by Stasia Black
So deep was the silence, it took them both a moment to realize the car had stopped.
Sharo opened the door and she found herself looking up at a tall building, with many stairs leading up to its large doors.
“Go on.” Marcus pushed her gently, and she dutifully climbed out.
“Is this the restaurant?” she asked, teeth chattering with a sudden cold wind. Marcus, having stopped to speak with Sharo, came and took her under his arm and coat jacket, ushering her forward.
He gave her an enigmatic smile as they went up the steps. She could barely see beyond his sheltering arms as he pushed open the doors.
As soon as they stepped inside, humid heat rolled over Cora, lapping at her arms and face like an ocean wave. It was completely dark, though. But Cora relaxed anyway, walking into the darkness without being afraid. Marcus was at her side.
“What is this place?” she breathed.
A flashlight switched on, and the beam danced over palms and ferns, flowers and green—a whole host of growing things, sheltered in the building of glass.
“A greenhouse!” she cried, and Marcus chuckled as he came forward to show her around. They traipsed the narrow paths and found their way through the dark with only his single flashlight.
How did he know that this was exactly what she’d needed? As much as she admired the city, sometimes it got to be oppressive—so much concrete, pavement, brick, and steel, block after block in all directions. She missed growing things. She missed being able to walk out her front door and touch the earth, smell the soil, and watch the sun rise in the big open sky.
She held out her arms and laughed as her hands brushed the beckoning soft branches and leaves.
She squinted. “I see something up ahead.” She dropped her arms and pressed forward.
Marcus obligingly followed with the light, until they pushed past one great frond and found a little table and some wine, lit by a silver candelabra. Going around her, he pulled out one of the chairs.
“Welcome to paradise, goddess.”
Speechless, she sat quiet while he poured the champagne, and took a glass without a word.
“A toast,” he said, “to our new favorite place.”
She couldn’t help it; she laughed. His eyes sparkled over the glass as he drank first. She was still waiting, wide eyed, when he finished. He toyed with his glass before placing it down decisively.
“You aren’t like any other woman I’ve dated.”
“Oh?” she asked. He came over to her, and she looked up at him, heart beating so rapidly she lifted a hand to her chest like that might slow it down. Would he kiss her again? Every time he did was so overwhelming and exquisite, she thought she might die of the pleasure.
“When I first saw you, angel,” he said, “I knew you would be my wife.”
Cora lost her breath for the second time that night. He— He did? His wife?
Her mind was racing a million miles a minute as he came near her and cupped her cheek.
“So lovely, so innocent. You are exactly what I’ve been looking for and didn’t even know it.” He knelt down before her on one knee. “I need you to be mine, Cora.” He reached into his pocket, keeping his eyes on hers.
What was happening? This couldn’t be happening. Oh gods, was this happening?
“Marcus?” she started to ask, but he opened the jewelry box, and she found she couldn’t speak.
It was a ring. It was a freaking ring!
“Marry me,” he said, smiling at her shock.
“Oh, Marcus,” she mouthed. Her breath was gone; she was mute. Instead, she reached forward to touch the ring. The metal was silver colored, but she knew it would be white gold. There were tiny diamonds, cut to sparkle. But the main gem was red. Mesmerized, she realized he was speaking.
“I almost got you a diamond, a real nice rock. But you look so good in red.” He looked at her suddenly in such a way that she blushed. She leaned back in her chair, away from both him and the ring, hoping she could hide the fear that had pierced through her.
There was a darkness in Marcus. She still believed what she’d told Maeve earlier this afternoon. Marcus was a good man, but there was a darkness in him. Was she really ready to commit her life to a man she knew so little about? He was careful around her, showing her only the parts of himself he wanted her to see.
“So?” He prompted, after a moment of silence.
“What if I’m not ready?” She didn’t know where the words came from. Dark fire flashed through Marcus’s eyes, but otherwise he hid his frustration well. “It’s just so soon,” she hurried to say. “We’ve only known each other a couple of months.”
“I think you’re ready,” he said and he stood up, towering over her, until he drew her to her feet. He moved his face close, as if he would kiss her, and she was frozen, watching his lips, “I think you want to say yes.”
And then he did kiss her. “Say yes,” he murmured while his lips played over her skin, kissing down her throat in the most delicious way. “Say yes.”
She closed her eyes, wound her arms around his neck, and like always when it came to Marcus, gave in.
“Yes,” she whispered in the darkness. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Even as he smiled and kissed her, though, a small worried voice piped up in the back of her mind. The setting was romantic, yes. The ring was beautiful. He’d expressed more of his feelings tonight than she’d ever heard from him before.
But he hadn’t said a single thing about love.
Seven
“Now that’s a nice ring,” Maeve said in her quiet, matter-of-fact way when Cora came to volunteer that week. Marcus had frowned when Cora told him she’d be busy until dinner, but she was adamant to keep to her schedule. Not even planning a rush wedding to one of the wealthiest men in the city would make her bail on Maeve.
“Thank you,” Cora murmured, and removed the ‘nice ring,’ stringing it on her necklace before donning gloves. An hour cleaning cages wasn’t something most people would look forward to, but she jumped right in as if the dirty work would make her clean.
In a few weeks she’d be married. Married. To a man who intimidated and intoxicated her all at once. He came into her life, and now he was her life. Every part of her world belonged to Marcus.
Except this part. Was that how it would be after the wedding? Everything that was Marcus swallowing up everything Cora had been? Should she be fighting harder to retain some autonomy? But every time she was with Marcus, all she wanted was more of him.
Nothing else mattered. The rest of the world dropped away so it didn’t seem like a sacrifice. And it wasn’t as if he’d asked her to give anything up. He just slowly occupied more and more territory in her life, like a slow and not unwelcome invasion.
“Cora,” Maeve called a little while later, and she blinked as if awakening from a trance.
“There’s a man out here, looking for you.”
Cora got to her feet so fast the newspaper scattered. The clock above her head read seven o’clock. Sharo was already here.
“Oh,” a curse sprang to her lips. Maeve’s brows flew up. Although Maeve wouldn’t take offense at the word, she looked surprised to hear Cora use it. Cora knew she usually came off so prim and proper, and she covered her mouth with her right hand. Her other toyed with the ring on the chain.
“You okay?”
“Yes, I’m late, I’d better go.”
Maeve hesitated. “Are you sure? He’s kinda rough looking; I nearly sent him away. Are you sure you want to see him?”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” Cora mumbled, stripping off her apron. She headed out front, smoothing her hair with her fingers. She was in jeans and a t-shirt, but she’d have to change at the club.
She passed through the door that led to the pet store. Rounding the corner past a display of dog food, she stopped dead. The man had brown curly hair. It was him. His back was to her, but she recognized the man who roofied and tried to kidnap her.
Run!
There wasn’t a front door between them this time. They were all alone in the small shop.
But… I’m never alone. The wild thought comforted her even as her hands shook.
“If I scream, someone will come.” Marcus still had men watching her. They kept out of sight, and she didn’t mention or make a fuss about it because she could pretend everything was normal that way. So how did her former attacker get past them?
That didn’t matter. All that mattered was that if she called, they’d come. She knew it. She wasn’t a victim anymore. She was soon to be wife of Marcus Ubeli, the most powerful man in the city.
She crossed her arms in front of her to hide her tremor. “You need to leave and never come back again.”
The man raised his hands, still facing the front. “I’m not here to hurt you. I swear. Just want to talk.”
He finally turned and Cora gasped. Instead of moving back, she stepped forward. Holy— “What happened to you?”
The man’s face was misshapen, bruises covering his face in multi-colored patchwork. She should run, or speed-dial Marcus on the special cell phone he insisted she carry. But the man wasn’t making any move to come closer, so she stayed.
“Did Sharo do this?” she asked, her heart beating hard.
“Yeah,” the man’s words were a garbled mouthful of pain, spoken through all the bruises and swelling. “Boss don’t like it when a man oversteps his bounds.”
Boss?
“What?” she whispered.
“I came to warn you,” he said. “Boss won’t like it, but you gotta get wise. That way, you’ll be ready. I done wrong and I’m tryin’ to make it right. Makin’ amends is what they call it. So I’m tellin’ ya, you gotta be ready.”
“Ready for what?”
The man shook his head, and groaned as if the movement pained him. It could be a trap. He could be pretending to be hurt worse than he was. She stayed back, the aisle of dog food between them. But she couldn’t help asking, “Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?”
“No,” the man gasped. “Listen, I’m tryin’ to warn you.”
“Warn me?” Her attacker was beaten, weakened. The longer she looked at him, the more convinced she was he wasn’t faking it. Cora uncrossed her arms and rested her fists on her hips. “You come here after drugging my drink, trying to kidnap me—”
“It was them. It was all them. The boss and Sharo. They planned it. They laid it out. I’m down the chain, didn’t hear it straight from them, but they were behind it.”
“What?”
“Watching you. Scouting you. That night in the club, I saw a chance and took it. Figured the boss would be happy if I brought you in early. He wasn’t happy. He had a plan—”
“The boss…” Her mouth was dry and her heart beating what felt like a thousand times a minute. “...you mean Marcus?”
“Yes.” A car slid past the shop and the man startled, staring with the whites of his eyes.
“No.” Cora shook herself. “No, you’re wrong. Marcus helped me. He and Sharo protect me from...from you!”
The man jerked his head, teeth gritted. “They were watching you. They were planning to pick you up from the start. I was watching you. Those were my orders.”
“Orders,” Cora repeated, her head starting to throb.
“I gotta go. I gotta run. They won’t like it. Once you’re in, you’re in forever.” He was babbling. He was crazy. He’d had a blow to the head. Multiple blows to the head.
Behind him, a long black car pulled up to the curb. Her ride was here.
She turned, but the man had gone. The door to the back was swinging closed.
Sharo found her there, still clutching her arms to her chest among the aisles of dog food. “Ready to go?” he asked, looking her up and down.
“I need to change,” she said, fighting the urge to back away. Sharo seemed to sense this, and stayed close, hovering, protective.
“You can do that at the club.” He turned, stiffening when the back door opened, but it was only Maeve, frowning for some reason.
“You nearly forgot this,” she said in her low, no nonsense voice, handing over Cora’s purse. Sharo held out a hand for it, and Maeve pulled it out of his reach. The older redhead gave him a level glance. “Excuse me.”
“It’s okay, Maeve,” Cora said. “I trust him.” She blinked suddenly, surprised at how quickly she said those words, wondering if they were lies. Gods, she needed to think.
Maeve looked at her with an unhappy expression, but gave Sharo the bag.
“Good night.” Cora’s small smile must have helped Maeve hold her thoughts in, but lines still formed on the older woman’s forehead.
Cora survived the drive in silence. Warn me? She rubbed her bare arms.
Once you’re in, you’re in forever.
When Sharo guided her down the steps to the club where she had run to that night long ago, she didn’t struggle. But the illuminated door that had once seemed like such sanctuary now felt like… Cold shivered down her back as she crossed the threshold.
Her mind felt blank. It was all too much to process. Whenever a panicked thought tried to break through, she reminded herself that that man was crazy. He’d kidnapped her for gods’ sake and then had continued stalking her. Why should she trust anything he said?
But he’d been so beaten down, literally and figuratively. He’d said he wanted to make amends, like he was in some twelve-step program.
What if he wasn’t lying?
A minute later Cora was alone with Marcus in his office. Mr. Ubeli. The shadows still cut across his face among the mahogany and rich carpet. Nothing had changed from that first night.
No, everything has.
“Hey, babe,” he said, and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. With one hand he scrubbed his hair out of his face; the other reached out, calling her toward him. She had planned to be strong, but something in the way he pushed the dark spikes of his hair away from his eyes reminded her of a little boy, up past his bedtime. She went to him. Gods help her, she went to him.
“Long day?” she asked, and he didn’t reply, simply put his hands on her hips and pushed her back so that she was leaning on the desk. His fingers stroked her arms, wrists, and hands, before retreating.
As soon as they left her skin, Cora wanted them back. She was the one who needed a twelve-step program. She was addicted to Marcus.
“Where’s your ring?” Marcus’s voice didn’t sound cold, not quite. But his face was blank in a way she knew he wasn’t happy.
“Oh,” Cora grabbed the chain around her neck. The diamonds flashed in the light. The garnet was so dark it seemed to drink the light in. “I put it here so it wouldn’t get dirty.”
Marcus’s lips pressed together, and she quickly undid the delicate chain, freed the ring, and replaced it on her fourth finger.
She wiggled her fingers in Marcus’s direction. “All better. Did you think I’d lost it?” Just like always, when she was with him, everything else disappeared. She knew she’d been very upset before coming into the room, that she still should be, that there was a chance that man had been telling the truth—
“No.” Marcus captured her hand and toyed with the slim band. His touch ignited a wildfire, racing up her arm, turning her insides into an inferno. Oh—
“Don’t worry,” she breathed out, fighting to keep her voice normal as her pulse jumped, hammering a million times per minute, “I won’t forget I’m engaged to you.”
“Not you I’m worried about. It’s every guy who looks at you, sees an angel and thinks he can get close.”
“Possessive, much?” she joked, but the intensity in Marcus’s gaze seared her.
“You have no idea.”
She closed her eyes as his fingertips grazed her temples, then traced down her cheeks. Her universe expanded, and it was full of Marcus. Everywhere Marcus, Marcus, Marcus.
And she let him, remaining still, heart now hardly daring to beat,
as if even a breath might break the moment.
“I should have done this a long time ago,” he murmured.
“What?” she started to say and leaned forward to hear the answer, but at that moment he looked up, and caught her mouth with his. And then it was all over.
Every thought went out of her head, all but Marcus, and he was standing now with his arms around her, his body pressing hers against the desk.
“Marcus,” she gasped when he released her lips.
“It shouldn’t have taken me so long. With any other girl it wouldn’t have taken me so long.”
“So long to do what?” she asked, her thoughts still swirling.
“This,” he said, and again his mouth closed over hers. The breath rocketed out of her, her hands flying up and hovering by his face. But she didn’t dare touch him, terrified to break the spell. But she needn’t have worried.
His whole body got into the kiss, closing in, dominating. His heat and scent surrounded her, flooding her with fire. Her hands gripped his strong shoulders, clutching the bunched muscle, nails digging into the fine Italian fabric as if they would scratch the smooth olive skin underneath.
“That’s it, angel. Hold onto me,” Marcus ordered, propping her on the desk and drawing her head back by her hair as his lips seared a brand onto her skin. His large palm cradled her head as his mouth worked down her neck. Cora let her head loll back, her body arching as Marcus pushed up her shirt and covered her breast with his hot mouth.
“Marcus, Marcus,” she panted. Her body was dry tinder, a field baked in the sun all summer. One spark and everything went up in flame.
His large hand slid down her midriff, skimming over her soft skin into her jeans and panties, touching her where no one had ever touched her before. Her eyes flew open, lips parting. Only to catch Marcus’s wolfish gaze as he stared hungrily into her eyes.
“So sweet. Such an innocent. Cora,” he groaned against her mouth, his eyes becoming hooded as his finger swirled between her slippery folds. “You like this?”
Her eyelashes fluttered. She— It felt— She’d never— Oh!
“Answer me.”