Page 63 of Malicious Claim

Nicolai sighed, shaking his head. "Stubborn." And then, without any hesitation whatsoever, he forced open her jaw.

A sharp gasp escaped her throat as he shoved the toast in. Not enough to strangle, but enough to force her to chew or spit it out.

Her eyes flashed to me, furious with anger. I held my own stare on hers, waiting.

For a moment, I thought she'd spew it right back in his face. But then, achingly slowly, it disappeared behind her teeth.

She chewed. Swallowed.

A small, inconsequential thing. And it was as near to victory as I ever tasted.

Nicolai released her, stepping away from her as she coughed once, stiffening into a rigid form.

Leila massaged her lips with the heel of her hand, panting for air. "You son of a—"

"Stop it," I broke in, my voice silky smooth but adamant. "You lost this hand,dolcezza. Learn to lose gracefully."

She jumped to her feet, fire brewing in her eyes, but I'd already turned to go.

I'd gotten what I wanted.

She would eat.

Eventually.

Chapter Twenty Seven

The Burden of a Name

Makros was at his desk in his office, scanning the thick dossier in front of him, going over the pages with deliberate concentration. Reports, budgets, surveillance transcripts, seemed like jigsaw pieces. It was not that he was unaware of the broad sweep of things, but it was the minute details, the nuances, that took work.

Effort which no one may ever be able to comprehend.

His fingers curled into fist around the page before he could force himself to relax. All that lay before him needed strict examination. There could be no mistakes.

A quiet knock on the door broke his concentration. He exhaled and slammed the folder shut silently.

"Come in."

The door creaked open and the Crete family's accountant, Luigi, stepped in. His posture was stiff. He was a fastidious man, reserved and methodical. Makros had never been a huge admirer of him.

"Sir," the man said, his tone even, though his eyes flickered for a moment to the side. "I apologize for intruding. There is a small issue with the documents you signed previously."

Makros raised his brow, annoyance flashing for a moment in him. “What problem?”

The accountant hesitated, reaching into his leather binder and pulling out a few crisp pages. He laid them on the desk with careful precision.

"Initially, I thought the signatures had been signed off in haste," he said. "But when I examined them more closely... they don't match, sir. I—I thought it was prudent to bring them to your attention before processing."

Makros's gaze fell on the papers. He had known it before the accountant had even spoken.

His jaw clenched, but he quickly went stoic again. He eased back into his chair, tapping his fingers on the armrest. "You're telling me I didn't sign these?"

The accountant hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "I'm saying they seem forged. Off. Different.”

Silence.

Makros let the moment drag on, observing the man, allowing the intensity of his gaze to bear down on him. Then he sighed, shaking his head.

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