by Lee Savino
“I’m sorry.” Armand caught up with her, sounding sober again.
“You told me he wouldn’t be here,” she said through gritted teeth.
“I know,” Armand sighed, and she almost stumbled.
He steadied her, then held her back as she snapped at him. “You knew? You knew he was coming, and you told me…”
“Look, I didn’t know he was actually going to show up. I may have let it slip that you were working on this event with me. I didn’t invite him.”
“You dangled me like bait in front of him! That’s an open invitation to a man like him.”
She glanced back, and, sure enough, Marcus was on his way towards the ballroom, moving closer to them. People seemed to magically clear out of his way. Shit.
“It’s been two months, Cora belle. Don’t you think you should at least talk to him?”
“I have talked to him.” Okay, she’d texted. She couldn’t bear to hear his voice, although she’d saved his voicemails.
“I mean face to face.” Armand sighed again. Cora felt a twinge of guilt. Her friends hadn’t been anything but supportive, although they did point out, gently, that talking to her husband might be a teensy bit better than just ranting behind his back.
They didn’t understand, though. And they never would because she’d never tell them about that night.
Keeping busy was the only alternative to curling up in the fetal position underneath her bedspread. Over and over, waking and sleeping, she heard the BANG of AJ’s gun going off and the endless images assaulted her—the blood, those brief moments between life and death when she’d bowed over Iris’s prone body and begged her to hang on, still believing that true love conquered all.
But it didn’t. True love and happy endings were a lie. Iris’s eyes had gone glassy and that was only the beginning of that night’s violence and bloodshed.
So yes, Cora had run.
And in the last two months, she tried to build a life for herself. One she could actually call her own for the first time, not dictated by her mother or her husband. She was finally doing what she dreamed of all her life—she was living independently and starting to make her own way in the world. But gods, none of that mattered because Marcus was here. She couldn’t avoid thinking about him anymore. He’d force a confrontation. It was his way.
“I can’t,” she said, pushing Armand away and rising up onto the first step of the staircase. He frowned but let her go.
“It’s too much tonight. I can’t. I won’t.” She was now talking to herself, climbing the stairs carefully because of the damn heels.
Halfway up, though, she made a mistake. She looked down.
Marcus was standing amid the crowd, looking right at her. Was there sadness in the beautiful hollows of his face, in the shadows under his eyes? She’d expected anger.
Too late, Cora realized she’d been staring. Marcus saw her hesitation, and it was enough. Oh shit. He made his living among the criminals of the underworld, where the slightest weakness could be exploited. So of course he read hers. And, like a siren’s call, it moved him.
Holding onto the banister with both hands, Cora watched him prowl through the glittering masses. He kept his eyes on her, and she read in them a promise. He was the hunter; she was the prey. And Marcus Ubeli always got what he wanted.
Under her beautiful dress, her knees wobbled. With what—fear, desire, anticipation?—she didn’t know. All she knew was that she was glad she had the banister to steady herself.
Run. Get the hell out of here.
But she stayed rooted in place. Because maybe, secretly, she wanted him to get what he wanted.
A wild card saved her. A curvy young woman walked in, her golden skin glowing against her outfit of pure white. Anna. The people around her formed an admiring circle and Anna smiled, basking in the light of their attention. But behind her, a server lifted a full tray of drinks and staggered under their weight. Cora gasped as she saw what would happen.
The server stumbled and the glasses crashed down, sending liquid in a shining arc, splashing all over Anna’s white clad form. Anna paused for a brief moment, looking down as the yellow stain spread all over her white outfit.
But Cora should have known Anna could roll with any situation.
Further in the ballroom, the DJ had taken a break and the music was quiet, so people were turning to see this new entertainment. No one else would be able to pull this off, but Anna was a performer, and now she had an audience. She threw back her head and laughed.
With a practiced movement, she let the bolero slide off her shoulders, and tossed the garment onto the surprised server’s tray. Every movement was part of the dance, and it was hard to look away. Her undershirt, a complicated camisole done up her front with little hooks was next. With quick flicks of Anna’s fingers, her top started to split down the middle as the audience held their breath.
She sashayed her hips, stepping forward. The people around her cleared away as she moved towards a buffet table. Her hands busy with her top, she still managed to step lightly up onto the table.
Now most of the room was watching. Anna remained mostly in place, moving her hips to a silent song.
The DJ filled the room with a throbbing beat. Now some of the younger and rowdier crowd came around the table, and Anna worked with them, blowing a kiss to her new admirers. A few fans started to holler.
Her top came off slowly, teasingly, until Anna dropped it and revealed a pale bra holding up an amazing pair of breasts. If the crowd hadn’t been excited before, they certainly were now, and someone clued the DJ in. He turned up the music, bellowing into the mike, “Ladies and gentleman, please welcome—Venus!”
Anna was down to her heels, a sexy thong, and a half slip made of tulle that had underwired the poofy skirt she’d been wearing. Not much more than she wore to work at the strip club where she had her show. Even half-naked, she looked elegant, the mesh skirt around her hips flaring out like a ballerina’s.
On the edge of the ballroom, Max Mars left his throng of admirers and glided across the parquet to the stage where Anna was dancing. He stepped up, the spotlight gilding his famous profile.
He held out his hand. Anna took it.
Cora sucked in a breath. Her roommate was laughing, holding hands with the biggest star in New Olympus, and blowing kisses over her shoulder to her adoring fans as Max Mars stole her away.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Cora’s staff cleaned the champagne and wet clothes away. Crisis averted.
Not quite. All that commotion, and Marcus was still looking at her. Cora staggered backwards, nearly falling on the steps under the weight of his stare. The promise in the stormy depths of his eyes.
Fate had one more ace up his sleeve. While his eyes had been locked with hers, Marcus had forgotten to survey the crowd. The DJ’s music ended and the crowd crush forward to cheer. And amid the waves of people, as if pulled by some magic tide, Philip Waters washed into Marcus’s path.
From her vantage point, Cora could see her husband’s sober expression falter as he looked up at the man who blocked his progression to her. She waited long enough to see the recognition flicker across Marcus’s features as he stared at the giant in white.
Another second and surprise left Marcus’s face and hatred flooded in.
Cora didn’t wait to see what happened next. Slipping out of her shoes, she whirled and ran up the stairs.
Two
The house was a mini palace, big as a hotel. At the top of the stairs, Cora slipped past the sign marking the hall beyond as “Private.”
Oh well, she’d ask Armand later who owned the palace so she could beg forgiveness for trespassing. Escape was more important at the moment. She hurried down the hall, testing a few of the doors to see if one could lead to a safe hiding place.
None of the doorknobs turned. Cora ran barefoot from one to another, imagining Marcus stalking up the stairs, the victor (of course) of whatever faceoff he might have had with Philip Waters.
He’d pause at the top of the stairs, order his Shades to wait, and come for her.
Finally, the door at the end of the hallway opened and Cora walked out onto a balcony. The air was cold and crisp but did little to cool her overheated skin. Hurrying to the balustrade, she leaned over and looked out over the garden, heaving in a deep breath.
Second floor. No way down. Nowhere else to run.
She blinked rapidly as her heart raced, looking over her shoulder. Maybe he wouldn’t find her? But there’d been that look in his eye. He was done waiting.
Two months ago, riding in Maeve’s car away from the Ubeli Estate, she’d texted him: I’ve left you. I’m somewhere safe. Please don’t come after me.
She’d turned her phone off, and Maeve had dropped her off at Olivia’s apartment. After kissing Brutus goodbye (and getting a doggy lick in return), Cora had gone inside to Olivia and Anna, to hug and cry. Armand had shown up an hour later bearing wine. Armand hadn’t chastised her, but hugged her until tears came to her eyes. They drank until dawn.
The next day, she turned on her phone and stared at the six voicemails Marcus left her. And one text: We need to talk.
After saving the voicemails without listening to them, she’d texted him back. She was a coward, but she was resigned to being one.
I can’t right now but we will soon. I promise. I need time.
She’d left out what she really wanted to say. His reply said it for her. I’ll wait. I love you.
He’d kept his word. He hadn’t sought her out for two months. Oh, Cora knew he checked up on her, and every week flowers were delivered to Olivia’s apartment that Anna and Olivia swore weren’t from any of their admirers. But no phone calls, no texts. No showing up on her doorstep. Nothing until tonight. His patience had run out.
Cora took her now freezing hands away from the stone and rubbed them together. The truth was, as much as she’d been dreading this day, she knew it needed to happen. Closure, right? Everyone said it was important. If only she was strong enough.
She and Marcus were wrong for each other. From the beginning they’d sparked like fire but what was it worth if it burned the whole world down?
She’d told herself that she needed the past two months to think. But the truth was, sticking her head in the sand was the only way she knew to become deaf and blind to his charms. Seeing him again now, she knew the truth.
She wanted him. She…liked succumbing to the pull he had over her. If she was being honest with herself, and this was very, very hard to admit…she always had. She wanted his overwhelming strength to roll over her and fill her with desire. She wanted him too much.
And she hated herself for that. Her desire for him, her weakness. She wanted to be able to stand up to him and prove she was strong enough to live her own life.
She had to break the cycle. It was up to her.
Footsteps sounded behind her.
And now was her chance.
Three
Finally, she was here in front of him. Marcus stepped through the grand doors and out onto the balcony with her. His wife. They were reunited at last.
The last two months had been hell. Ask anyone who’d been around Marcus. Sharo, the Shades. They’d all learned to steer clear of him other than when absolutely necessary.
Cora’s back was to Marcus but he knew she felt him. She always could. They were connected, no matter the miles that might separate them. Nothing could sever their bond.
So he’d given her the time she asked for. She’d been scared. Everything that had gone down…it was bad. She thought she needed space, so okay. Every single day he’d wanted to drive over, tear down the door to her friend’s apartment, and drag her back to the Estate where she belonged. At his side.
For her, though, he’d fought his less evolved nature and let her be.
But enough was enough. She was his wife and it was time for her to come home.
“Cora.” Her name was a sensuous caress on his tongue. He’d never wanted anything as much as he wanted her.
She turned and the string of connection between them pulled taut.
She was so fucking gorgeous, he almost lost his breath. She was statuesque and beautiful, delicate, with pale skin that glowed in the moonlight. The dress she wore molded to her curves but it also highlighted the fact that she’d lost weight.
A hundred disjointed thoughts ran through Marcus’s head. He wanted to punish her for leaving him. He wanted to fall at her feet and beg her forgiveness. He wanted to grab her, flip her against the wall, and fuck all the frustration of the past two months out between her quivering thighs.
Her hands fisted at her sides as if she could read his thoughts and was forcing herself not to reach for him. He all but growled in satisfaction at the sight. He affected her as much as she did him.
Her eyes narrowed and she squared her bare shoulders, lifting her chin. Whatever statement she hoped to make by the posture was undercut by the fact that her nipples had clearly hardened, completely visible through the tight fabric that clung to her breasts. It was a good thing she’d retreated here for their reunion to take place because now Marcus could enjoy the sight all for himself instead of concerning himself with blinding any fucker who dared to stare at what was his.
“Leaving the party so soon?” he finally fired the first volley.
Her eyes flared and she crossed her arms over her chest. More was the pity. “I’m not much of a party person.”
He couldn’t help smiling at that. “I remember.”
He lifted his hand, holding out her ridiculous shoes that she’d abandoned midflight.
“You left these on the stairs.”
Her eyes went wide for a moment and little pink spots appeared on her cheeks. “Yes, well. I’ve had a long night.”
He stalked forward, his eyes capturing and keeping hers. She backed up until her legs hit the balustrade. He knelt. So it was to be bowing at her feet after all. He lifted up the silky material of her dress and exposed her perfect ankle. Gods, to touch her skin again…
“Marcus,” she breathed, and he looked up the length of her. Her chest was heaving and he grinned. She seemed to lose track of whatever she’d been about to say. Oh yes, her body remembered his command over it and soon the rest of her would too. He’d make sure of it.
But even as he thought it, he knew he wanted more. He didn’t want unthinking obedience. Not from her. No, what he wanted from her was so much more complex.
Lifting her foot, he slipped the first shoe on and fastened it, caressing her ankle and her calf. The chance to get his hands on her again was too tempting to pass up.
He worked on the other one while Cora leaned on the balustrade. She was silent, but by the occasional hitch in her breath, his touch was affecting her.
When he finally straightened and stood, she swallowed hard before finally managing a tremulous, “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” Their eyes caught and held a moment before she dropped hers and took a small step back from him. As if any amount of distance could stop the blazing furnace of their chemistry.
“Armand tells me you helped him with most of the preparations,” he said. She was like a skittish bird and she’d flee if he wasn’t careful. “He says you’re indispensable. Your company is taking off.”
“Well,” she croaked before clearing her throat and trying again. “I’ve been working hard.”
“Not too hard, I hope. You need to remember to sleep and eat.”
Cora let out a brittle chuckle. “You should take your own advice. I learned my business habits from you.”
“I want to apologize.” It was suddenly out of his mouth and she looked taken aback.
He might not be on his knees anymore but hell, he realized only now that this was what he’d come here to say. This and more, but it had to begin here. He had so much to atone for where his wife was concerned.
“I need to ask forgiveness for the violence at the restaurant.”
Her eyebrow raised, maybe at
the bare description of the shooting that had blown out the windows and terrorized at least a dozen guests, killing three and wounding another handful.
“I never thought AJ would be so bold. I underestimated him and put you in a dangerous position. I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” Her eyebrows were drawn together. “But, if it makes you feel better, I forgive you. I never thought you were to blame.”
“Then I apologize for leaving you alone at the Estate the next day.”
She looked down at the fabric pooling around her feet. “It’s alright. You would’ve stayed if you could’ve.” She took a deep breath. “I accept your apology.”
Did she? Did she really?
He still didn’t know how AJ had gotten to her the night everything had gone to shit, but in the end it didn’t matter. The responsibility was Marcus’s. If he hadn’t left her alone, she never would’ve been taken. She was his wife and his business was never meant to touch her.
He wouldn’t say more on the subject, though. He would never put her in that position again. He would protect her and keep her safe. Something he could only do when she was by his side where she belonged.
“Good.” He couldn’t help looking her up and down again in admiration. “You look beautiful.”
“So do you,” she said, and Marcus grinned outright. “Marcus—”
“Cora, we need to talk things out. I’ve given you time.”
“Almost two months,” she said softly.
“Have you been keeping track? Counting the days?”
“No,” she lied. He didn’t need her words, just her expression, to know the truth.
Their gaze locked. She looked both a little lost and a little like she hoped she’d been finally found. So much was said, and unsaid, in one simple look. She was his and she always would be.
“I’ve given you space, as you requested,” Marcus said again.