Page 117 of Malicious Claim

Makros glared into the mirror for the final time before moving away from it. "One of the many bonuses of the Mafia life, Dragon."

Dragon's dry laughter echoed, and he flinched as pain spiked in his shoulder. "Yeah, well I can give you some more bonuses to add, like getting shot for a piece of bloody jewelry."

Makros grinned wryly. "True, we live for the bullet wounds."

Dragon sneered. "What's the wining and dining for?"

Makros fidgeted with his cufflinks. "Petrov's daughter is having a birthday celebration."

Dragon's voice grew more serious. "Oh man. The way Petrov's moving, it seems this is more about matchmaking than birthday at this point."

Makros exhaled slowly, gazing at the door. "I am married, Dragon."

Dragon chuckled. "Yeah? That never once stopped guys like you, ever?"

Dragon was right. Weddings in their world were as much a matter of convenience than as they were emotions. But he had Leila. And she was all he wanted.

Makros eventually broke his silence. "It stops me."

Dragon hesitated. "Well, damn. Something about you has changed since you got back from America."

Makros's lips trembled, but he didn't bite. "Find the woman, Dragon. I want to know who she is before she finds me."

Dragon let out a breath. "Yeah, yeah. I'll call you when I have something."

Makros ended the call and shrugged his shoulders, getting himself together before going into the banqueting hall.

The hall was as intimidating as one would expect from a man of Petrov power. High ceilings, gold chandeliers dripping with crystals, and very long tables heavy with more food and wine than any man could possibly eat.

Makros entered with father at his side. The room was silent for an instant at their entrance before conversation resumed, though now with a faint undertone of curiosity.

Petrov rose from the head of the table, holding up a glass. "To the Cretes. I'm glad you honored my invitation on a moment's notice."

Matteo nodded slightly, advancing. "It was a lengthy journey to Moscow. I believe this makes the trip worthwhile."

Petrov smiled, inviting them to sit. “Perhaps we can do a survey after to find out, eh, old friend."

"Perhaps we can."

Matteo sat beside Petrov and Makros sat beside him. A waiter poured each of their glasses full of dark red wine. Makros swirled the liquid idly, looking at Petrov with the patient silence of a man who had suffered enough betrayals never to rush into trust.

After a minute or so of chit-chat, Petrov leaned in, lowering his voice just enough to make Makros nervous. "You know, Makros, if our factions merged, we'd be invincible."

Makros didn't flinch. "Is that so?"

Petrov's lip curled into a sneer. "Of course. Alone, the power we each wield is tremendous. Together? No one would be able to resist us."

Makros set his glass down on the table. "True, but I'm married."

Petrov grinned, shaking his head. "Come on, my boy. You and I both know that marriage in our world is not always a matter of the heart."

Makros's eyes turned cold. "Mine is."

Petrov regarded him for a moment, then simply smiled. "Then I commend your dedication. However, you should meet her."

Makros didn't inquire as to who. He already knew.

Petrov beckoned to a woman who sat further down the table. "Come, Ekaterina. Join us."

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