by Stasia Black
Finally the SUV stopped in front of her apartment building. She paused before opening the door and Marcus clenched his fists to stop himself from reaching for her.
“Marcus—”
“Don’t,” he cut her off. The only way he was making it out of here at all was if he left right this second. “Stay safe. Don’t go anywhere without the Shades.”
He didn’t wait for her acknowledgment. The second she’d stepped from the car, he ordered Sharo, “Drive.”
Eighteen
Marcus had definitely been pissed at her when he dropped her at her apartment two days ago. And Cora understood. She really did. After their night together, for her to turn so cold and bitchy…ugh, she didn’t want to think about it anymore.
But thinking about it was all she’d been doing nonstop ever since she’d last seen him. She felt horrible. To raise his hopes like that was cruel.
She hadn’t been completely in control of her faculties when she’d sleepwalked to his door, though! Okay, so she remembered almost everything that happened that night. In far too great of detail. She didn’t even know how to describe the overwhelming, all-consuming need and desperation she’d felt.
And when Marcus had finally given in… Cora’s eyes fell closed, a shiver running through her at the memory.
It was like her deepest and filthiest desires had bubbled up and she had to have them fulfilled, no matter what. No matter what she had to say, how she had to manipulate or… She wished she could say, no matter how she had to lie.
But that was the thing. Other than the one off comment about going out and looking for another man if Marcus didn’t satisfy her, she was afraid that everything else she’d said had been the truth.
It was like some damn truth serum had been poured down her throat. Things she’d never even admitted to herself had popped right out of her mouth. Thank the Fates but she’d been too concerned with servicing her libido to make any other confessions…
And when Marcus had cornered her in the car after the meeting with the mayor, what was she supposed to do? Go hole up with him at a safe house? The two of them, alone?
No. The night before had been a temporary madness.
It was unfair to keep sending Marcus such mixed messages, she knew that. Jumping him one moment and telling him to stay away the next—first in the back of the club and then again the next night? Gods, sometimes she didn’t even know her own mind.
Because she couldn’t want him. She wanted the light. She wanted nothing to do with the darkness Marcus’s life was drenched in.
So she couldn’t let herself be swallowed back up by him, by his world. No matter how tempting. No matter that some pills had mixed up her head for a little while. No matter that she couldn’t stop thinking about his strong hands on her body, the commanding bass of his voice, the taste of his lips on hers…
All of it kept her awake at night. And after the sleepwalking incident, she didn’t dare take the last sleeping pill. She flushed it down the toilet. Wednesday rolled into Thursday rolled into Friday with her imagining more and more horrible things. What would happen on Monday when Waters’ countdown clock wound down?
If she came clean and told them all everything—both Marcus and Waters—would it help? Or was it too late for it to make a difference?
A stronger woman would have come clean, no matter the consequences. A stronger woman would have tried.
The couple of hours she actually managed to sleep at night were always filled with nightmares. She woke each morning feeling heavy and sluggish, like her body was full of concrete. Even walking Brutus didn’t limber her up much; her torso ached and she had a headache that wouldn’t quit.
With no end to the tension in sight, and no word from Marcus, she took some painkillers and puttered around her house trying to focus on getting back to normal. Maybe if she settled into her normal routine and relaxed with her friends like she used to, she’d think of a solution.
Which was how she found herself wearing a little black dress, her hair teased around her face with smoky makeup, walking into a large row house on Park Avenue. Two Shades tailed her, looking unhappy.
Armand met her at the door, in his signature rock star look—tousled hair, Fortune jeans, black band tee, and bare feet. He looked effortlessly sexy, and not for the first time Cora wondered if she would’ve dated him if she hadn’t met her husband first.
“Darling, you look fabulous,” he said. “This little get together isn’t as elegant as the party Perceptions put on, but the canapés are to die for and the booze is free.”
“Sounds perfect,” she mumbled. She was so tired. She’d slept maybe a total of three hours in the last three days. But Armand had called and enticed her, saying Anna would be attending.
“You okay?”
“I’m tired.” She didn’t quite know how to describe the achy, horny malaise that had settled in her bones, but she was chalking it up to worry and missing Marcus.
“You sleeping?”
“Sometimes.” Right now probably wasn’t the time to ask him what the hell was in those pills. She was likely in the minority who had extreme side effects, anyway.
“Who are the suits?” Armand looked over her shoulder.
“My bodyguards. Fats and Slim.”
“Nice to meet you.” Armand grinned big at them.
“No fraternizing with the muscle,” Cora ordered, taking Armand’s arm and steering him into the house.
“Darling, I wasn’t going to stop at fraternizing…” Armand craned his neck to watch the two men follow them in before hurrying along as she swatted him. The back of his t-shirt was ripped a little so the tops of his angel wing’s tattoo peeked out.
As Armand rounded the corner, a demanding female voice boomed his name. “Armand, there you are. The caterers ran out of ice, and I can’t find Buddy. Without him they’re too stupid to know what to do.”
Cora peeked around Armand to see the tall woman who’d stopped him. She wore a long white and gold caftan that swirled around her arms and legs, allowing a peek of light brown skin. She stopped short once Cora rounded the corner. “Hello, I didn’t know we had new company.”
She didn’t smile, though, as her eyes swept over Cora. Her dark hair was pulled back taut from her face and only made her look more severe.
Shrinking a little under the woman’s frowning perusal, Cora felt like a child playing dress up in her mother’s clothes: weighed in the balance and found wanting.
“I’ll find Buddy,” Armand promised, putting his arm around Cora. “Olympia, meet my friend Cora. Cora, this is Olympia Leone, the lady of the house.”
“Cora? As in Cora Ubeli?” Olympia fixed Cora with a hawk-like stare and Cora’s greeting died in her throat. “I’ve know all about your husband.” The look on her face told Cora that she didn’t approve of Marcus Ubeli at all.
“We’re separated,” Cora blurted out, quailing under the woman’s glare, and giving thanks that it was technically true. Olivia always told her she couldn’t lie “for beans.”
Armand, however, seemed impervious. “Come on, Cora belle, let’s round up the head caterer and I’ll introduce you to the people here.”
“Wait,” Olympia said. “Who are they?” She pointed to the Shades. “Ubeli’s men aren’t welcome in my home. Not now, not ever.”
“Relax, they’re Cora’s bodyguards. I have my eye on them.” Armand grinned impishly. He pulled Cora past Olympia, slipping in a quick cheek kiss that seemed to soften Olivia’s harsh countenance a hair.
“Right, let’s check on the ice situation,” Armand said, leading the way through the long, open living room/dining room into the back kitchen. A few guests already milled around the table laden with food.
“Is Anna here yet?” Cora asked. It was so weird, going from living with Anna and Olivia, seeing them every day, to now having little idea what was going on with her good friends. She missed both of them, badly.
“Supposed to be arriving soon. With Max Mars. Are they
a thing?”
“I saw them together at the studio where they are filming their movie. They are most definitely a thing.” Cora smiled as she gave this piece of juicy gossip, watching Armand’s eyes flash happily as he devoured it.
It felt good to be here, talking about frivolous things, forgetting her heavy reality for a moment. It made her feel young, like she could reverse the hands on the clock and go back, back to before…
“Let’s hope they ditch the paparazzi before coming here,” Armand said. “The rest of us would rather not be so famous.”
Cora shook off her melancholic thoughts and threw herself fully into the moment. “Who else here is famous?”
“Olympia used to be the DA of the city. She’s thinking of running for mayor now.”
“Against Zeke Sturm?”
“Yep.
Cora remembered that her meeting with the mayor the day before had been Armand’s doing. “Wait, how do you know Zeke so well?”
“I met him through Olympia.”
Cora’s head went back a beat before she put two and two together. “Ok, right, she was the DA.”
Armand shrugged. “That, and she used to be married to him.”
Cora put a hand to her head, rubbing it. “I need a drink. It’s been a long week and New Olympus is one big incestuous pool.”
Armand barked a laugh. “You got that right. Incestuous pit of sin.” He slid up to the drinks table, getting her a white wine. He took a cocktail, raising it to salute someone across the room.
“Olympia is cool. She took me in when I was homeless, and made it clear that I’d always have a home here.”
“Ok.” Cora felt a little better about the stern-faced matron. “She didn’t seem to like me or Marcus very much.”
“Oh, she hates Marcus. With a passion. District attorney, remember?” Armand swigged his drink. “Of course, don’t take it personally. Olympia hates everyone at first. By the way, how did the meet with our fair Mayor go?”
“Not great. Like I said, it’s been a loooong week.” She looked around at all the people laughing and having a good time. She felt envious.
It would be so lovely to get away from it all, even for one night. She wished she could be young and silly and get drunk off of neon colored drinks with umbrellas in them. But after her experience with the sleeping pills, she was not in the mood for anything even slightly mind-altering. “I don’t suppose there’s any coffee?”
“Coffee?” Armand barked out a laugh. He tossed back the rest of his drink. “Girl, you have got to learn how to party.”
Two hours later, Cora wandered into the backyard, feeling so tired she was edging on delirious. The grass felt nice under her feet. If she lay down, would she finally be able to sleep? She twirled around, her arms out. She’d never realized before that you could reach a point of exhaustion where your limbs were so heavy they felt light again. A little like she was floating.
Anna and Armand stood on the patio, and Armand started clapping. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you: our friend plus a single glass of wine.” Armand flung out an arm towards Cora.
Anna giggled. “That’s it? I guess she really isn’t used to drinking. It’s not even midnight and she’s wasted.”
What they didn’t know: she hadn’t even drunk that single glass of wine. She’d been sticking to bottled water all night. Her exhaustion was just finally catching up with her.
Fats and Slim stood on either side of the small garden space, looking even less happy than they had a few hours ago, but Cora didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything. She was so damn tired. Tired didn’t even begin to cover it. She was exhausted. Worn out. Pooped. Obliterated. Smashed. There weren’t enough words in the thesaurus for how tired she felt.
Cora teetered to the edge of the garden and leaned against a tree.
Anna stepped off the edge of the stone patio and her five-inch spike heels sank right into the grass. She came towards Cora anyway.
“Hey, are you okay, babe?” Anna’s brow furrowed with concern. “You’ve barely said two words tonight. You look tired.”
Cora started giggling as Anna’s thumbs ghosted over the bags that were undoubtedly underneath her eyes.
“I’m so exhausted,” she confessed.
“Oh, honey,” Anna said, pulling her into a hug. “It’s gonna be okay. Let’s get you somewhere you can sit down. Maybe lay down.”
“No, I don’t want to leave,” Cora protested. “I never get to see you guys.” And going back to her empty apartment was the last thing she wanted.
“How about a nap?” Armand said, joining them. “There are rooms upstairs. Take a little power nap.”
Cora nodded. A power nap. Perfect.
“We can take care of her,” the two Shades moved forward. Cora stepped to follow them but stumbled and almost face planted.
“Whoa, I’ve got ya,” Slim said, and the next thing Cora knew, Slim had her over his shoulder and the whole world went topsy-turvy.
She went limp over his back. It actually felt nice not to have to hold herself upright anymore. She really, really needed that nap.
“Marcus is going to kill me,” Armand muttered. Anna patted his shoulder.
“I’ll be back soon,” Cora mumbled, her eyelids already falling shut.
“We should take her home.” Fats stepped forward, light from the tiki torches glinting off his shades.
“You’re wearing sunglasses, at night.” Cora giggled, pointing. It all suddenly seemed so absurd.
“What did you give her?” Fats demanded, getting up in Armand’s face.
Cora eyes watered and she felt dizzy as she looked between Fats and Armand. Armand was taller, but skinny compared to Fat’s shorter, compact form. She didn’t want them fighting over her. Thankfully Armand backed down from Fat’s challenging stance.
“Nothing but a glass of wine, I swear. And she only sipped at it. She didn’t eat but it still shouldn’t have affected her this badly.”
“I’m just really tired, guys,” Cora tried to explain.
“Get her upstairs.” Olympia appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, in her regal looking robe. “Now. You—” She pointed to Fats, “Out. You’ve overstayed your welcome.”
“Go take care of Brutus,” Armand muttered. “Cora will be safe, we’ll all be here to watch her.”
Olympia kept giving orders. “Get her upstairs, put her to bed in the peacock room. There’s a private bathroom in that one. You—” She pointed to Slim with a look on her face like she’d seen a cockroach. “Can stay. But don’t cause trouble.”
Olympia shook her head, obviously frustrated. “Andrea Doria just arrived and she brought a bunch of security with her, too. There are more bodyguards than guests.” Olympia turned away, still muttering.
Slim nodded to Fats and carried Cora down the hall with Armand leading the way.
She dropped her head against Slim’s chest, suddenly feeling more exhausted than she ever had before in her life. The good news was that she was pretty sure she’d be able to sleep the second she laid her head down on any kind of pillow.
In the upstairs hallway, she caught a glimpse of another tall black woman standing in a bedroom doorway, a giant blonde wig on her head and fabulous makeup highlighting her midnight skin. She stared in surprise down at Cora in Slim’s arms.
“So sorry, Andrea.” Armand sidled up to the woman as Cora was carried on by. “Novice drinker.”
“No problem, we’ve all been there,” the tall woman laughed. Cora craned her neck to stare at Andrea’s heavily made up face under the outrageous blonde wig. She looked vaguely familiar, and Cora almost had figured out why, but the thought escaped her when Slim put her in bed.
“I don’t think coming out tonight was the best idea,” Cora murmured to him before the darkness of the room closed in on her and, exhausted, she finally slept.
Nineteen
In the Mayor’s mansion, Zeke Sturm strode back from his study, tossing his cell phone to an aide. With hi
s usual exuberance, he threw open the doors to the dining room and looked down the long table at the assembled guests.
Every night the same, like a boring joke, Zeke thought as he viewed their expectant faces. A visiting dignitary, a decorated war hero, and a kiss-ass aide walk into a bar… Out loud he said, “Apologies for my tardiness. I hope the first course was to your liking.”
Polite murmurs came from up and down the table. Zeke made sure to share his smile all around. People could be so petty if they felt not enough attention had been directed their way.
“I’m told the chef received a gift from one of the ships docking in our ports,” Zeke said as he sat down. “So tonight we dine on fresh sea bass. It was imported specifically for a particular shipping tycoon’s meals, now graciously gifted to us.”
The guests all expressed their appreciation.
“Please, enjoy.” Zeke smiled and gestured, and took his first bite as everyone would wait on him. “Mmm,” he said. “Much better than the way my ex-wife used to char it.”
The guests around the table laughed, right on cue.
“What we call a sea bass is actually two species of toothfish, renamed to sound more palatable,” said a man from midway down the table in a heavily accented voice. He had a neatly trimmed salt and pepper beard, and piercing blue eyes. He was a professor, if Zeke recalled correctly. Professor Wagner or Ziegler? Something like that.
“A fish by any other name…is still delicious.” Zeke savored a forkful and motioned to the servers, calling for more wine around the table.
A round, bald headed man bustled up to the table. “My apologies for being so late.”
“Commissioner,” Zeke greeted the newcomer, and only the very astute would pick up the slight twitch of his lips, a micro-expression of annoyance. Zeke thought the bearded professor had noticed, though. Observant, that one.