Page 77 of Malicious Claim

He reached for the case, fingers tracing over the metal handle as if he were inspecting a fine bottle of wine. Then, without breaking eye contact, he rose, taking the case with him.

"Come on, bella. Not here."

Leila hesitated only a heartbeat before trailing after him.

He led her through the booths with velvet curtains, through the private casinos where men rolled and played for stakes which were more valuable than money. They climbed a staircase, the beat of music below vibrating the walls. Salvatore pushed open the door to his office at the end of the corridor.

Salvatore's office was a contrast to the club in every way—dark mahogany furniture, bookcases full of leather-boundbooks, a bar full of pricey whiskey, and a single desk in the center.

Salvatore set the case on the desk.

But he didn't open it.

Instead, he leaned against the edge, tilting his head as he studied her. "I'll need to fetch the key," he said smoothly. "Take your time, bella."

And then he left.

Leila exhaled slowly.

She looked around the room warily. There were no cameras visible, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Guys like Salvatore always had eyes where you didn't see them.

Her gaze dropped to the case.

Her fists clenched.

All of her nerves were yelling at her to open it. It wasn't a case of sheer morbid curiosity—it was all the years of relying on her survival instinct knocking. Information was power. Knowing what was inside could be relevant as far as her death or survival.

But Matteo hadn't sent her here to dig around. He'd instructed her clearly to deliver the package, confirm, and leave.

Leila clenched her fists, pulling herself away from the temptation to pry.

Minutes passed.

Then the door creaked open.

Salvatore reappeared, his smile easy. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

Leila said nothing, watching as he stepped behind the desk, a small silver key glinting between his fingers.

He jammed it into the lock. A soft click. The top came off. The case contained neatly stacked papers.

Leila's stomach twisted. She couldn't help the thought that those were not just ordinary papers.

Salvatore flipped through them, whistling his appreciation. Then, hesitating for a moment, nodded.

"Perfect. It's all here."

Leila let out her pent breath. The mission was complete.

Or so she thought.

Because then, he reached into his pocket and slid something across the table.

A photo.

Leila's blood turned to ice.

Her breath caught as she gazed at the photo.

---