Page 11 of Malicious Claim

As night fell, she finally spoke. “What’s your family like?”

I turned to her, caught off guard. “Pardon?”

She faced me with those big almond eyes, and for a fleeting second, I saw how young she was.

“If I brought a man out of nowhere and called him my husband, my brothers would wring his neck before he even introduced himself.”

I smirked. “Oh, you want to know what to expect?”

I reclined in my seat, giving it some thought.

What were the Cretes like? It depended. Were we talking about my immediate family or my empire? Either way, they would have to get used to seeing her around.

“Think of the Italian version of your family,” I mused. “Badder, though.”

"Bet," she muttered, looking down at her hands.

Her fingers curled into her palm again. Nervous. Or scared.

I did something that went against my very nature. I slipped my hand into hers, bringing it to my lap.

“What are you doing?” She tried to pull away.

“We’re here,” I murmured. “Act normal. You are my muse. That’s the only way to survive my family and me.”

The car rolled to a stop.

She raised her head, and a gasp left her throat. “What the hell is this? You monster! What is this?”

“What?” I followed her eyes as if I wasn't already aware of the spectacle.

“Oh, you mean my family?” I knew they were going to gather to witness my entrance firsthand, especially after I sent that message. I didn't just expect them to line up down to the house, like weirdo's.

“They're out to welcome you.”

The car door opened, and she stepped out. I followed immediately, gently interlacing my fingers with hers. We had barely taken a step forward when I heard the sound of a cane beating the floor. She tried to lead the walk, but I drew her back. She turned to me, her brows raised.

“Wait,” I mouthed, and she looked ahead.

As expected, Don Matteo, the oldest patriarch of the Crete family, came into view. Judging by the grimace on his wrinkled face, he wasn't a bit pleased.

Good.

I had finally managed to piss him off.

“Dragon, show my wife, Leila, to our room. I'll speak to my father briefly.”

I pulled my hands away from hers, intentionally refusing to look at her face. I knew she was confused, but she needed to learn as quickly as possible that there was no room for weakness here. That was the biggest difference between the family she came from, and mine. We were bloody bitches. The biggest thugs. Merciless gangsters, and we never hesitated.

The mumbling began. Soon it was audible enough for me to hear.

How does one wipe out an entire family and go ahead to claim their daughter for himself? Isn't that a surefire way to get killed? They would ask, not to my face of course, they wouldn't dare.

The Don stopped when I reached him. He gave me a quick once over and turned around. I could feel his rage, and it only fueled my rebellion the more.

“Maledizione Makros!” He suddenly screamed, stomping his cane to the ground. “Seguimi!”

I gladly followed him as instructed. I wanted to hear the bullshit he had to say now. He and everyone knew that no one could change my mind once it was set, but I would love to see them try.

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