Innocence (a Dark Mafia Romance)

by Stasia Black

  “Fine,” she said, smiling timidly. “I slept fine.”

  She moved down towards him, still looking around. The room stretched out in shadow. The penthouse must take up one whole side of the building, she realized. There was a kitchen and bar, sunken areas for lounging, TVs and, in one corner, a baby grand piano. Everything was in grey or black, with touches of cream.

  “Do you like the place?” Marcus Ubeli stood with his hands in his pockets, the shadows grey on his face and under his eyes as he watched her.

  Right. She was probably staring like a country bumpkin. “It’s nice,” she said and inwardly cringed. Nice? “I mean, it’s really fancy.” Gods, fancy was worse than nice. “Elegant, I mean. Really elegantly decorated.”

  Shoot her now.

  To get into the lowered seating area, she passed a statue, a contorted figure in white marble.

  “That one’s mine,” he commented, and she paused politely to stare at it. “The hotel lets me furnish this place to my tastes.”

  The statue was of a woman, a body and thin cloth all finely sculpted. It looked Greek, and well done, but the figure’s face unsettled her—a sweet youth’s features twisted as if in some horror or fear. She moved on, descending into the sunken area where her host stood.

  “So you live here?” Cora asked.

  Marcus Ubeli chuckled. “No, I keep it in case I want to get away.”

  Of course he did. Drawing in her breath, she nodded as if this was normal. But holy crap, what must a place like this cost? And he kept it as what, a place to crash when he was up late in this part of the city?

  Or a place to bring women. Her cheeks heated at the thought.

  “Would you like a drink?” He approached, and she shrank away from his tall, dark figure, suddenly imposing. But he only turned and went up the steps to the bar.

  “No, thank you.” She shook her head, still feeling a little sluggish. At the bar, glass clinked and then he was back. “How long did I sleep?”

  Again, a small chuckle. It wasn’t unkind, but it made her feel like she missed the joke. “I just watched the sunset.”

  “What?” She was horrified. “No way.” She went to the window. “Can you turn these clear?”

  “Of course.” He reached for a remote control and with the tap of a button, the dark windows became transparent. Cora gasped as the view became bright with rows of light that outlined skyscrapers, artificial and multicolored against a black velvet sky. She really had slept for an entire day.

  “Oh, no,” she said, lifting a hand to her forehead and feeling completely disoriented. She turned back to her host, who was now standing, his figure cut half through with black, half in grey.

  “Forgive me,” he said, and she was startled again. He didn’t look like a man who would apologize. “I let you sleep as long as you could.”

  Shadow shrouded his face; she couldn’t make out any expression beyond what was in his voice. “I made sure you were okay. Someone stayed here, in case you woke. But when I returned you were still asleep.” His voice dropped and became softer. “I figured you needed it.”

  “It’s okay,” Cora said, although she felt weak. “I mean, thank you.” She’d slept a whole day! And someone had stayed with her—she wondered who, and hoped it wasn’t the muscular bouncer she had seen in the club. She had so many questions—who was this man? Why was he being so nice?—but she bit them back, feeling his dark gaze on her.

  “You hungry?”

  She shook her head sharply, remembering the pitch of her stomach during the chase. The memory didn’t seem a day old.

  Too late, she thought of her manners. This obviously wealthy man had taken time out of his day to check in on her when she was sure he had a million more important things to be doing.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll get out of your hair. And I really should be getting home.”

  She didn’t even cringe as she said it. Well, not too much. But whatever her problems were, she was done foisting them on this man.

  He tilted his head sideways, examining her in a way that made her mouth go dry again. “Last night you said you didn’t have a home.”

  Cora felt her eyes go wide. “Oh.” Shoot her now. She knew she talked sometimes in her sleep. She tried to laugh it off. “Well I was working as a live-in nanny.”

  “And?”

  Cora opened her mouth and a helpless little noise came out. How could she even begin to— And it wasn’t like it was his problem—

  But Marcus Ubeli arched a dark eyebrow in a way that demanded the truth.

  “Well, I sort of quit.”

  “Sort of quit? Either you did or you didn’t.”

  She let out a breath in a rush of air. “I did quit. But I still need to go back and get my last paycheck and all my stuff.”

  She couldn’t help her frown thinking about what sort of scene that might be. But all the money she’d made in the last six weeks was there, and her backpack full of clothes and the few other things she’d brought from Kansas—

  “I’ll have your things picked up. You can stay here until you’re back on your feet again.”

  “What?” Cora’s back went stiff. “No!”

  Dang it, she was being rude again when this man had only been kind to her. “No, I mean, thank you. That’s very nice. But I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I’ll go by and pick up my things and go to my friend’s house.”

  He didn’t have to know she was speaking about a hypothetical friend. Especially since her phone was gone. That creep from last night had kept it after he’d picked it up and she hadn’t memorized Europa or Helena’s numbers.

  But the Donahues paid well. She’d have almost fifteen hundred dollars all together once they paid the half of this month’s paycheck she was owed. Maybe she’d catch a bus and find somewhere cheaper to live. The big city was the best place to hide from her mother, but it was too expensive.

  “Sounds like you’ve got it all worked out,” he said. “I’ll have my driver drop you wherever you want to go.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and touched a button. “Sharo. Yes. Bring the car around. You’ll be escorting Miss…” Marcus’s eyes came Cora’s way.

  “Vestian. Cora Vestian.”

  “…Miss Vestian wherever she’d like to go.”

  He hung up the phone and slid it back in his jacket pocket in one fluid gesture. “It’s nine p.m. I’d be happy for you to stay here another night and let all your responsibilities rest until daylight. What can you really accomplish tonight?”

  Cora clutched yesterday’s dress to her stomach. “Oh, it’s fine. I’m a night owl. So are my friends.” Lies. All lies. She was usually in bed before the evening news.

  If Marcus could tell she was lying, he didn’t call her on it. He merely inclined his head and held a hand out toward the door. “Sharo will be waiting by the time you get to the front of the hotel. May I walk you?”

  She blinked, then nodded. She’d never met anyone so… well, so courteous. Courtly, that was the perfect word for Marcus Ubeli. He was like some old timey knight with his chivalry, coming to her rescue when she was a damsel in distress.

  Books had been the one entertainment her mother allowed and she might have swooned over a knight or two throughout her adolescence.

  Marcus held out an arm. She shoved her dirty dress behind her back, more glad than ever that she’d balled up her dirty undies and bra inside it, and took his arm with her other hand. Electricity crackled through her body the moment they touched.

  Not to mention that the strength that emanated off his body was… wow. Just wow. She’d never felt anything like it. Being so near him made her feel a little light-headed all over again.

  He led her smoothly across the living room of the penthouse, out the door and to the elevator. Cora had never wanted an elevator to come faster and wished it would never show up at the same time.

  “So,” she said, hating the way her voice came out as little more than a squeak. Gods, she must seem like such a little girl to someone
like Marcus. “What do you do? Like, I mean, as a job?”

  She glanced up at his face.

  Bad idea. Really bad idea.

  She’d only seen him in dim lighting before. The hallway didn’t have fluorescents or anything but it was enough to see that, holy crap, Marcus was gorgeous. Freaking stunning from the top of his elegant cheek bones to the strong set of his jaw.

  And the way he smiled down at her, still all dark and broody but like she amused him at the same time—it took her breath away. Literally she was having a hard time remembering how to breathe.

  His grin deepened until a dimple popped in his cheek and she jerked back like she’d been struck.

  “I own many business and investment properties. You all right?” Marcus’s brow wrinkled. His eyelashes were black and long, a hint of beauty on a hard, masculine face.

  Of course his eyelashes were freakin’ perfect.

  “Cora?”

  “Yeah. Yes. Yep.” She bobbed her head like a fool and got hit with another smile. They say Cupid shot arrows, but this felt more like a punch, a battering ram, smashing her right in the gut, pushing her insides out and replacing them with a golden glow.

  Was this because she’d been completely deprived of male company her whole life and so now she was boy crazy, the first time she got to be this near a man?

  No, it couldn’t be that. She hadn’t felt anything but disgust when Paul tried hitting on her.

  She was pretty sure this was all Marcus.

  He didn’t move back. He stared down at her, the smile slowly falling away, replaced by an intensity that pinned her in place like a butterfly to a board.

  When the elevator pinged its arrival, she all but jumped out of her skin.

  The corner of Marcus’s mouth tipped up and he let go of her arm. “After you.”

  Feeling like an idiot, she stepped onto the elevator. She thought he’d leave her there but he stepped on with her. The space shrank and the air heated. Cora held her arms stiff beside her body. She was an awkward mannequin next to the tall, broad shouldered god filling the small box.

  The hairs on her arms rose where his suit coat brushed against her. The rich fabric felt like the suit coat he’d draped over her last night. She’d never been so aware of anyone in her whole life.

  She thought that surely it would pass but nope, the entire ride down, the electric awareness hummed under her skin. She about jumped off the elevator once they got to the lobby.

  “Thank you again,” she said. “You have no idea how much I appreciate what you did for me. I mean,” she shook her head as a shudder worked down her spine, “I can’t imagine what would have happened if it hadn’t been for—”

  She sucked in a deep breath and cut off her word barrage. She looked Marcus in the eyes, tried as hard as possible to ignore the way his intense gaze made her stomach go absolutely liquid, and said, “Just, thank you.”

  “All right, Cora,” he murmured. A flush came over her—she was freakin’ light headed at the sound of her name on his lips. “You ever need anything, you reach out to me, yeah? I’ll take care of you.”

  Gods, he was so nice. She reached out and gave his hand a quick squeeze.

  His nostrils flared at the touch and she immediately let go and spun on her heel, her own eyes wide. Oh gods, why had she touched him? What was she thinking?

  Glancing around, she saw all eyes in the lobby were on her and Marcus. And here she was, making a fool of herself. She squeezed her eyes shut briefly, horrified at how silly and naïve Marcus probably found her.

  But she shook it off. Oh well. It was done. For one shining night, okay, two shining nights, she’d been a brief blip on Marcus Ubeli’s passing radar, and that had been enough.

  She bit back the impulse to thank Marcus again and instead, kept her back to him and walked across the lobby. It felt like the longest walk of her life. She could feel every eye in the place on her. But was he still watching her?

  Duh, no, stupid. He probably turned around and went right back up to the penthouse. She’d likely never see him again.

  The huge bald-headed bouncer, Sharo, was waiting for her as she pushed through the revolving doors.

  Cora stopped up short at seeing him. Wow. She hadn’t realized quite how… large he was. All his proportions were normal, he just came in extra, extra-large. He must be six foot five and could have had a career as a linebacker. He wore a suit that had to have been specifically tailored for his frame and he had a small earpiece in his ear.

  He nodded at her and walked around to the back of the sleek, black expensive looking car. “Miss Vestian.”

  “Thank you.”

  She slid onto the cool leather bench seat and Sharo closed the door behind her. She clutched her old dress in her lap nervously.

  “Seatbelt,” Sharo said from the front seat.

  “Oh, right.” She finally relinquished her clothing to the seat beside her and pulled the seatbelt across her chest, clicking it into place.

  “Address?”

  She gave him the address and he plugged it into a screen on the dashboard. They pulled out of the hotel’s drive and the lights of the city slid over the car. Cora stared out the window like she always did when she was in a car or on the bus.

  Six weeks here and the city still awed her. She’d read books about cities and buildings so tall they scraped the sky but reading about them and seeing them for herself were two entirely different things.

  Cora had grown up surrounded by corn and sorghum crops. Rows and rows as far as the eye could see. And that was all. The idea of a place so packed with people they had to build upwards and stack them on top of each other to fit was something Cora hadn’t really even been able to comprehend before coming here.

  The ride was silent. Sharo didn’t say anything and Cora was glad because she was too intimidated to talk to the big man. If he didn’t talk, that meant she didn’t have to, either.

  And soon enough, she began to recognize the landmarks of the Donahue’s neighborhood.

  She sat up straighter and looked at the clock on the dashboard screen. Nine twenty. Okay, at least Timmy would be asleep. Her heart squeezed in her chest. She’d miss the little boy. He wouldn’t understand why she’d suddenly disappeared. It wasn’t fair to him. But there was no way she could stay. Not after what Paul had done.

  She took a deep breath as the car came to a stop.

  Okay. She’d go in, get her money and belongings, and move on from there. She could get a hotel for the night. She almost laughed thinking about the kind of hotel she could afford compared to where she’d stayed last night. She’d have to take the train to the outskirts of the city and look for the cheapest motel she could find, but at least it would get her through the night. Tomorrow she could look for another job and—

  “Miss Vestian?” Sharo questioned. “If you’re having second thoughts, I know Mr. Ubeli wouldn’t mind—”

  “No.” Cora’s attention snapped back to the present moment and she shoved her door open, hiking her feet to the pavement. She cringed, thinking of how the beautiful heels were probably already getting scratched. She’d wanted to return the clothing in perfect order to Mr. Ubeli along with her thanks.

  Oh well, she sighed. It wasn’t like he could return them to the store after she’d worn them.

  “Thank you. And thank Mr. Ubeli again for me.” She closed the car door before she could start babbling again.

  Sharo had gotten out of the car as well and she looked upwards at his face, so far above hers. “Mr. Ubeli asked me to give you this.” He held out a card. “If you ever have need of him for any reason, any reason at all, you give him a call. You understand?”

  She nodded quickly and took the card. She gave a quick smile and turned to hurry down the sidewalk toward the Donahue’s brownstone.

  She waited until the black car pulled away and drove down the road before knocking on the door. She didn’t ring the doorbell because she didn’t want to wake Timmy.

  It fel
t weird to knock on the front door rather than letting herself in with her key, but she hadn’t even had time to grab those before Paul had accosted her last night.

  She shook her head. Had that really only been last night? Because as much as she’d been shocked to find out that it was evening when she woke up today, the events of last night had already begun to feel very distant, like they’d happened to some other girl. A defense mechanism probably, but she didn’t have another moment to think about it because the door swung open.

  “Mrs. Donahue. Hi. I’m here to pick up my things. I don’t know if Paul— If Mr. Donahue told you, but I quit yester—”

  “Whore! How dare you show your face back here?”

  “Wha—”

  But before Cora could even get the word out, the middle-aged woman stepped out onto the front stoop and slapped Cora. Hard.

  Cora jerked back and lifted a hand to her face.

  Ow.

  For such a small lady, Mrs. Donahue packed a mean hit.

  “Wait,” Cora held up her hands, “there’s been some kind of misunderstanding here—”

  “Did you or did you not try to fuck my husband?” Mrs. Donahue sneered.

  “Of course not! I would never!”

  But it was clear by the expression on Diana Donahue’s face that she didn’t believe a word coming out of Cora’s mouth. And why would she? It was Cora’s word against Paul’s.

  “You’re way out of line,” Cora said, fists clenched, “but you’re never going to believe me and I get it. So just pay me the money you owe me and let me get my things and you never have to see me again.”

  Mrs. Donahue made a disbelieving noise. “You’re not stepping one foot inside my house, you homewrecking whore. I had to miss work today to stay home with Timmy. The gods only know what sort of influence you’ve had on my baby.” She shook her head and went to close the door.

  Cora shoved her foot in the way and pushed on the door. It startled Mrs. Donahue into stumbling several feet back into the foyer. But that only seemed to anger her more.

  “I’m calling the police,” she shrieked.

  “All I’m asking for is what you owe me,” Cora said, barely able to believe what was happening. “You have to pay me. I did the job. And I need my things.”