Ekaterina Petrov was, no doubt, beautiful. High cheekbones, striking blue eyes, and a confidence that preceded her with each step as she walked toward him. She was in a black gown, the slit high enough to be an open suggestion.
"This is Makros Crete," Petrov announced. "He's a tiger, this one."
Makros resisted the urge to correct the man by saying he was a dragon.
She extended her hand, and Makros accepted it briefly, more because of manners than anything else.
"It's my pleasure to meet you," she said smoothly, sitting beside him.
Petrov lifted his glass and set it down after a moment of consideration. "Why don't you give Makros a tour?"
Makros glanced at his father, who watched the exchange with silence.
Ekaterina smiled brightly. "Shall we stroll?"
Makros hesitated, but knew that a flat-out refusal would be impolite to Petrov. He nodded slowly. "You lead the way."
The halls of the estate were quiet, intimate. Ekaterina led him by a side hall, stopping at a dimly lit sitting room. She swung back, expression unreadable.
"So, the negotiations with my father were to your liking?" she breathed, drawing nearer.
Makros didn't move, not yielding any sign as to how her nearness affected him. "I wasn't in charge of the negotiations. Left alone, there'd not even be one."
She tilted her head. "What? Don't you enjoy offers?"
He smiled weakly. "Depends on what's being offered."
Her hand trailed lightly along the lapel of his suit. "I could be offering you something very... nice."
Makros caught her wrist, his fingers hard but not unkind. His voice was deep, even. "You're beautiful, Ekaterina. But I don't do business with my dick."
Surprise flitted over her face before she let out a soft laugh, moving back. "Wow," she said. "That's odd."
Makros adjusted his cufflinks, his mind already on Leila. "It's not for sale."
Ekaterina looked at him a moment longer before letting out a sigh. "Too bad. We could've been a good pair."
Makros glanced at her. "I already have a queen."
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, watching him go.
Chapter Forty Five
Leila's Power Play
LEILA'S POV
It was a new day in the Crete prison as I call it, and Makros and his father were still in Moscow.
And I might never have such an opportunity again.
I had been compliant for weeks, measuring each step I took quietly, choosing my words with care. I played the role they wanted, bending when necessary, appearing to submit when it was convenient for me. It was a delicate balance between deference and opposition, not too soft to be disrespected and not too hot headed to risk my goal.
But by far Stefanos had been the easiest to play.
I wore down his pride, stoked the embers of his ego, made him believe that I looked at him as something more than a Crete I wanted to kill. Every flirtatious glance, every well-placed compliment, every inch of my body I allowed him to lust over—it was all for one thing.
To destroy him. And now that my plan for revenge was beginning to take shape, it was time to risk even more.
