The call ended.
It was dawn when Sam arrived at the private home of the ambassador. Security came to life, scanning the faces in the car before automatically opening the gates.
The ambassador came out almost immediately. He'd been waiting all night. He pulled Vanessa into a hug, but she did not respond because she was still very much drowsy.
His gaze went up to Sam. "What is it?"
"I'd like to quit and go work for the Cretes."
"But Sam, you're our best bodyguard."
“It’s just...the Cretes are more dangerous to cross. And my wife doesn’t want me risking my life for something we can walk away from.”
The Ambassador hesitated, then nodded. "Tell Makros that I thank him. He helped me make the right choice. And I won't forget it."
A favor. That was something. But Makros would not see it that way.
He sat in his office, staring at the whiskey glass in his hand but not drinking from it. The deal had been made. The girl returned. But Aleksei was still out there, and no one knew who had helped him.
Makros never left anything to luck. So why did it feel like someone was playing him behind his back?
He thought of the Crete family. His people. And for the first time, the idea crossed his mind that someone from the inside could be trying to sabotage him.
The glass in his hand creaked slightly under his grip.
He would find out, and if he did, there would be a hell of a price to pay.
Makros poured himself another glass.
A single knock on his door interrupted his thoughts. Then the gentle voice of one of his maids called out. "SignorMakros, your father wants to see you. Now."
Makros closed his eyes briefly. This had been expected. The old man would not be pleased.
Makros stood in front of his father's study door, his nerves taut as a string on a violin. When he entered, Don Matteo did not lift up his head. Instead, he sat behind his massive desk, his fingers mechanically turning the pages of a book.
"You lost him," said the Don, his voice chilly, flat, devoid of feeling.
Makros stood up straight, his shoulders squared. He would not be made to appear weak. "I gained the ambassador's favor."
"A favor," Don Matteo echoed, his tone almost sarcastic. "And what about the guns? What about the prisoner? What about the fact that someone in our midst is working against us? For all the effort you put into your plans, Makros, youstill managed to screw everything up. You never missed, what’s happening with you?”
Chapter Twenty Five
The Foe of My Foe Is My Ally
LEILA'S POV
I awoke to the gentle, persistent, hum of the air conditioner. Its chill on my skin was appreciated because the heat of the sunlight was streaming in through the open balcony doors.
For a second, I stayed still, staring at the ceiling, bewildered. Then it all came rushing back–my family's massacre–but only for a fleeting moment before I shut it out. When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in Makros's bed. Makros's world.
I expected to turn over and find him lying beside me. But to my disappointment, the bed was empty. I had been thinking of strangling him while he slept.
The night before, I had dared to tell him that submission was an illusion. My own words terrified me then. He had been shocked for a moment—before he threw his head back and laughed, challenging it.
There was a soft knock at the door and I started. A maid with a tray in hand, stepped inside a second later. She moved quietly, head ducked as she put it down on the bedside table. I gazed at the plate. Scrambled eggs, bread toast, sliced fruits, coffee. The fragrance of roasted beans hung in the air and my stomach rumbled faintly in anticipation. The scent of coffee enticed my senses.
"Signoreinstructed you to eat."
