Page 194 of Malicious Claim

"She's wondering."

Without another word, Vasilis walked back into the party, cigar still unlit. Makros stayed behind, the city lights casting sharp lines across his face. He liked Vasilis, or at least he thought he was going to like him. Maybe someday when he was Don, he could make Vasilis an associate. Who knows?

When he returned to the table a few minutes later, Nicolai glanced at him curiously but said nothing.

Makros sat, picked up his wine glass, and swirled the red liquid inside. He wasn't thinking about shoes. Or sales. Or business.

He was thinking about threats. And how to avert them.

On the ride home, the night outside had deepened into a thick velvet sky, the streets quieter now. Nicolai was surprisingly quiet for once, focused on the road.

Makros broke the silence just as they turned into the villa's estate.

"Take tomorrow off, Nic."

Nicolai's brows furrowed. "What for?"

"It's your brother's death remembrance day, isn't it?"

Nicolai blinked, caught off guard. "Yeah. How'd you remember?"

"I remember everything that matters."

Nicolai didn't respond right away. He first fought the urge to park, pull out his M19 gun and just shoot Makros. A day off wouldn't bring back his brother. Makros should've not even breathed a word about his brother's remembrance.

"Thanks, boss," he said, finally.

Makros heard the underlying hatred beyond those fake gratitude but said nothing.

Chapter Seventy-Two

Spoiling Her Silly II

Makros promised Greece would be a combination of work and good times, and he upheld that promise like the mantle of a prophet.

The moment Leila walked into the villa after work, she was disarmed by what she saw. Red roses decorated and formed the words: Welcome Leila.

For a second, she hesitated on the threshold. It wasn't often someone did something sweet for her without strings attached. Her first instinct was to look for the catch, but all she saw was soft light and more roses.

"Yay, more roses."

Whatever made men think rose flowers was every girl's favourite flower needed to be studied.

Sofia, dressed in a radiant silk white robe, greeted her with a warm hug. "All of this is for you, milá mou. Now go and be spoiled."

"For me?" Leila asked, sounding a little bit cautious. "I don't understand."

"The boss wanted you to come back home to this beautiful surprise," Sofia said, dreaming, just for a second about being in Leila's place. There was warmth in her smile, but also something wistful beneath the surface, like someone watching a dream pass by with no intention of catching it.

"Haha, surprise," Leila said. "Isn't that cute?"

She allowed Sofia to hold her hand, guiding her.

White rose petals and scented candle lights led a trail down the hall, coaxing her toward the open patio doors. The scent of grilled chicken filled the air, distinct among the other mouth-watering aromas wafting from the kitchen.

Then they stepped outside onto the poolside, and a gasp escaped Leila's lips.

Lanterns flickered on tall stands. A small fire pit burned in the corner. Shirtless male dancers in tailored black pants lined the pool's edge, their bodies gleaming under the lights as they stood like statues waiting. Each one held a silver tray containing different things—chocolate, strawberries, chilled champagne, slices of pink watermelon.

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