Page 8 of Malicious Claim

grinned. “Go ahead. Just know that you're a storm, Leila. And I’m the darkness that follows.”

My head snapped up, and my voice was pure venom. “It’s not a plan. I will kill you.”

He let out a low whistle. “Hope I get to taste you before that happens.”

A wink. A damn wink.

How was he so casual about this? He had slaughtered my family. Destroyed my life. And yet, he stood there, making jokes like it was nothing.

I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms.

The rage boiled in my throat, but I pushed it down. Now wasn’t the time.

I would make him pay. But first, I had to survive.

“You haven't even told me your name,” I muttered. “Shouldn’t that come before a marriage proposal?”

He smirked. “Makros Crete.”

Oh, shit.

I had heard of him. The Italian Don who turned blood into an empire. The man whose name made even the most ruthless criminals hesitate.

Now, it was all making sense.

I scoffed. “Well, Makros, don’t call me ‘sunshine.’ I will never be your sunshine. My name is Leila Crawford. You do well to remember that last name.”

He stepped closer, offering his hand. I glared at it before looking away.

“I know who you are, Leila Crawford,” he murmured, dropping his hand. “I must say, you're not what I expected.”

I glanced at him, wary. “And what exactly did you expect?”

He shrugged. “Something... gothic. Leather pants, thick mascara, a cigarette in one hand, and a gun in the other.”

I almost threw up.

Me? Leather pants? Thick mascara? Lady Jenner would have killed me herself. I liked girly things. I liked pink so much, and I made ginger, and my gun was pink too. I liked flowery perfumes and listened to Ed Sheeran.

I shuddered. “God, no.”

He chuckled. “Glad to know I was wrong.”

Then, his expression shifted. “Now, go and freshen up.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“We leave for Italy tonight.”

I laughed in disbelief. “You think I’m going to follow you like some obedient wife?”

“You are my wife now,” he said simply. “And wives obey their husbands.”

I gritted my teeth. “That’s the most sexist bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

He smirked. “Would it help if I said please?”

“No.”