by Stasia Black
His hand retreated. She almost gasped at the loss.
Marcus pushed his chair back from the table. “If you’ll excuse us,” he said crisply. He held out a hand to Cora. “Darling?”
It was not a request, Cora could tell by the fire burning in his eyes. Her hand trembling, she lifted it and took his. He pulled her up from the table, his fingers interlocking with hers. Cora briefly shot a wobbly smile in the direction of everyone at the table. Armand looked back knowingly. Oh God, had everyone at the table realized what was happening?
Marcus didn’t say anything as he pulled her through the crowded tables and Cora didn’t dare either.
Out of the ballroom, they went. All the way to the coat check.
“Your ticket number, sir?” asked the attendant.
“Do you know who I am?” Marcus asked.
The attendant’s eyes widened and he swallowed. “Yes sir, Mr. Ubeli, sir.”
“Give us the room,” Marcus demanded. “Twenty minutes.”
The attendant pushed open the half door he stood behind and scurried out without another question.
Cora shook her head at Marcus’s heavy handedness but the next second, he was dragging her into the room and closing both the bottom and top half of the door as well as locking it.
Then he pushed her up against the rack of coats.
“I don’t appreciate being contradicted in public,” he growled, his eyes dark. “By anyone but especially not by my wife.”
His wife? Cora couldn’t help scoffing. “Let’s not pretend I’m anything more than a convenient...what did that despicable woman call me? A fuck toy? And every time you fuck me, you’re getting revenge on my father, so I guess I’m a two-for-one special.”
If it was possible, Marcus’s gaze got even darker. His voice was dangerous when he said, “What woman?”
“I didn’t catch her name and she wasn’t wearing a collar, but apparently you like to have threesomes with her, so I hope you at least know her name.”
“Lucinda.”
Stupidly, hearing her name on his lips hurt. Because Cora was a stupid, stupid girl.
But apparently Marcus was moving on without any more comment on his former or perhaps still current fuck toy. “If you think telling that reporter that I’m keeping you against your will will help you—”
Cora laughed bitterly. “If you have the New Olympian Police Department under your thumb, I’m pretty sure you’d handle the third most popular newspaper in the city without much effort.” She leveled her gaze with his, which unfortunately meant she was still looking up to him, a disadvantage not even her three-inch heels could help.
“I want to see my friend, Maeve. She’s got to be worried about me since I haven’t even spoken to her since the wedding.”
Even talking about the wedding hurt, remembering how hopeful and excited she’d been on that day.
Cora lifted her chin defiantly. “Besides, surely a mobster like you will take any good press he could get because that’s how it works, right? The hypocrisy of this city? Everyone knows what’s actually going on but you all come to parties like this and rub elbows and smile at each other and pretend you care about charities when it’s all a smokescreen for the terrible reality?”
“Careful,” Marcus barked and his hand came to her throat.
Cora kept glaring at him. “Lock me back up. Starve me. Hit me if you want to. It’s nothing I haven’t had before. I told you, I survived before and I’ll survive you.”
Something flickered in his eyes but before she could try to figure out what, Marcus grabbed her by her waist and twirled her so she was facing away from him. He dragged up the skirt of her dress and the next second, had her panties down.
There was the noise of a zipper and he pulled her back against himself. She felt the heat of his long shaft against her buttocks and her sex clenched in anticipation.
Such a stupid girl.
He bent his head over her shoulder so that his five o’clock shadow bristled against her ear.
“You will never disrespect me in public like that again. You’ll do as I say. When I say.”
He thrust inside her drenched sex. Her eyes all but rolled back in her head at the fullness of him. His fingers had felt good but this, oh gods, this—
“Sorry if I’m not your usual mindless bimbo fuck.”
His arm circled around her chest and curved up until his hand was at her throat again. “Language,” he growled.
And as if for good measure, he gave her ass a sound smack.
Cora let out a hiss of outrage even as her sex clenched around him. His other arm that was a bar around her waist dropped until his fingers were strumming her clit and immediately the pleasure started to rise again. It was always like this, she’d noticed. After having one orgasm, the second was easier and quicker to rise, as well as often being harder and more fulfilling.
“This doesn’t change anything,” she panted even as her hips bucked back against him in pleasure. Oh gods. “I still,” gasp, “hate,” gasp, “you.”
“It’s time to shut that pretty mouth of yours,” he barked.
When he’d taken her virginity, he’d been gentle and patient.
It appeared that patience was at an end. He clutched her to him with both arms and he thrust deep and wild and violently.
Cora stopped thinking. She only felt with all her senses.
The wet sound and feel of his thick cock sawing in and out of her. The harsh noise of his breath in her ear. The smell of his sweat mixed with cologne. Looking down and seeing his strong, manly hands clutching and working her.
He was usually so in control. So studied and cold. But his thrusts were wild and his noises animal as he took her. He couldn’t hold himself back any more than she could. This thing was bigger than the both of them.
Cora couldn’t help the cry of pleasure that escaped her mouth when the climax hit this time and Marcus’s hand moved from her throat to her mouth to muffle her noises. Somehow that made it even sexier, him fucking her so hard in this coat closet, hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. She clenched on him as the spasms rolled through her, involuntarily at first and then voluntarily as he swore in her ear and pumped even harder still.
He crushed his face into the hollow of her neck and thrust the deepest he ever had yet as she felt him, the heat of him as he spilled inside her and she felt a high beyond that of climax, of womanly triumph.
He pulled out and thrust in again, and again and he stilled, like he was unwilling to let go of the moment. He stayed there a long time, his breathing ragged and Cora clutched around him with every ounce of strength she had.
She didn’t let the thoughts back in yet. Not yet. Not yet.
There was only Marcus and her in this moment, so perfectly connected.
She didn’t know how long they stayed like that. A full minute? Two?
Before he finally pulled out and she felt his seed begin to slide out and down her inner thighs. Her sex clenched again, involuntarily, as if to keep him inside her.
She was glad she was faced away from him because she didn’t know what he would have seen on her face in that moment.
She was only sure of one thing as she stared forward at the rack of coats, exhilarated and horrified by all that had just happened.
That had so not been part of the plan.
Twenty
Three days later, Cora entered the dog shelter. A pause and she ran, flinging herself into Maeve’s arms.
Maeve squeezed her close but only for a little bit before pulling back and holding Cora’s shoulders. “Let me get a look at you.” She’d been grinning, but her smile dimmed at looking Cora up and down. “Sweetie, are you all right?”
Cora’s bottom lip trembled and she fought back tears as she nodded. She hugged Maeve again, hard.
“Oh, sweetie,” Maeve said, rubbing Cora’s back soothingly.
Cora closed her eyes and sank into her friend. Gods. She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed a friendly
face. Tears crested and fell down her cheeks but she didn’t make a noise. She clung to Maeve. For a long time.
When she finally let go, she swiped at her eyes and gave a short somewhat false laugh. “I don’t know what’s come over me. So much has happened since I’ve seen you.” She reached out and grabbed Maeve’s hands, giving them a squeeze. “I’m sorry I didn’t reach out sooner.”
Maeve squeezed her hands back. “It’s okay, I understand. I remember what it was like being a newlywed.” Then her eyebrows furrowed. “But honey, seriously, are you okay?”
Cora swallowed hard and nodded.
Marcus had made it more than clear at breakfast that she wasn’t to disclose any of the truth of their situation to her friend. He hadn’t gone so far as to threaten Maeve’s safety should she not comply but Cora wasn’t about to put her in that position. Maybe it was selfish to even come back here. Marcus was dangerous. Putting Maeve anywhere on his or his Shades’ radar wasn’t doing her any favors.
But things between her and Marcus had continued to thaw even more since the gala. He was still letting her move freely throughout the apartment and they discussed letting her volunteer again at the shelter on a temporary basis, once a week. Today was the trial run.
Well, by discussed, she meant Marcus had decreed it, with a long list of conditions, including having his Shades guarding the front and back of the building and Sharo escorting her at all times.
Marcus worked all day and sometimes nights but they had meals together at least once a day, though they never did much in the way of talking. Sometimes he read to her, though. First from the newspaper. And without discussion, he’d plucked a book from the bookshelf and started reading it aloud. It was a Thomas Hardy novel and it was very beautiful and very sad.
And every night, without fail, he came to her room. He took his time with her. Sometimes it got a little rough, but it was never quick and, as much as she hated to admit it, it was never unwanted.
She’d begun to look forward to him coming home with an excitement that disturbed her.
He was the enemy. Wasn’t he?
She. Was. So. Confused.
All that to say, Cora could use a friend now more than ever.
“I’m all right,” Cora said and her smile was a little less tremulous this time. “I mean it.”
The bell over the door jingled and the man from the gala walked in, the reporter, this time not in a tux but in jeans and an attractive gray Henley. He smiled as soon as he saw Cora and she waved.
“Maeve, this is the reporter I called you about, who wants to do a story on the shelter.”
Maeve looked briefly at the man but her eyes came back to Cora. “We’ll talk more later, okay?” Her eyes searched Cora’s and Cora nodded.
“Definitely,” Cora said.
Cora showed the reporter, Joe Garcia, around the shelter and explained how things worked as she went from cage to cage, feeding the dogs.
“We accept any and all strays and drop-offs, no matter what. Maeve has committed to this being a no kill shelter, which means that other than for dogs that are simply too old or too ill for us to care for, no animals are euthanized here. But that puts a huge burden on us to get these animals adopted and to continue caring and housing the ones that remain. We depend on donations and volunteers to stay afloat.”
Joe nodded and made a couple of notes on the small pad he had with him. “And how long have you been volunteering here?”
“For about two and a half months, ever since I came to the city.”
“Where did you live before that?”
Cora stopped in front of Puggles’ cage as she opened his door and scooped in his food. “Out West,” Cora said noncommittally. “We work hard to walk the dogs at least once a day, depending on how many volunteers come in. And when we can, we advertise our adoptive services. The more we’re able to get the word out about this place, the more dogs we can save.”
“Have you always had a love for animals?”
Cora saw what he was doing. He obviously wanted this to be an article more about her than the shelter, and no doubt any reporter worth his salt would try to dig to get what scoop he could.
Cora smiled sweetly at him. “This is Boris,” she introduced him to a large German Shepherd. She opened the cage and poured in his dog food, giving him a belly scratch before closing it again. “Now I have a soft spot for him. He’s big and intimidating looking, but once you get to know him, he’s really a sweetheart.” She leaned in. “A little like my husband.”
Joe’s eyebrows went up at that. “Oh really? Are you saying that Marcus Ubeli has a soft underbelly?”
Cora laughed. “Oh I wouldn’t go that far. Marcus is many, many things but I wouldn’t call him soft. Let’s say he can be a perfect gentleman when he’s of a mind to be.”
Joe scribbled furiously at his pad, no doubt trying to record the quote.
Cora moved on. “A lot of people think adopting a dog from an animal shelter means getting an older animal, but that’s a misconception. We have a lot of puppies, as you can see. It’s unfortunate, but too many people take on animals they simply aren’t ready for.”
“But we work hard here to match potential owners to pets that are compatible with exactly what they’re looking for. We don’t want to see a dog back here in several weeks any more than an owner wants to bring them back. So we talk to people and have them fill out questionnaires. We spent time with the dogs to learn their quirks and habits, all so that we can make the best and most long-lasting matches.”
Joe nodded and made a few notes, but not nearly with as much enthusiasm. “So how did you and Mr. Ubeli meet? Obviously you had a short engagement if you only came to the city two and a half months ago.”
Cora gave a slight, enigmatic smile. “Something like that.”
“Oh come on,” Joe said. “Give me something for my readers. Marcus Ubeli, consummate bachelor, suddenly ties the knot after knowing you only a few months? The news set New Olympus buzzing. Surely you can give our readers some insight into your whirlwind romance. Did your families know one another?”
Cora stopped at that and turned her back to him. Did he know something? Did he know she was a Titan?
She worked to suck in an even breath as she took another scoop of dog food from the plate and poured it into the bowl of a stray border collie Jack Russell mix. No, there was no way he could know about who her parents were, otherwise the news would’ve been splashed all over the headlines long before now. She’d seen unpleasant headlines about Marcus before, and news that big… Even Marcus with all his power and influence might not be able to suppress it.
But most likely, Joe Garcia was shooting into the dark, hoping something would land.
Cora dragged the bucket over to the next cage and felt Joe follow behind.
Still not looking at him, she said, “I don’t really know how to explain Marcus and me.” Ha. That was the understatement of the century. “It was raining one night and I ran into his club to get out of the storm.”
She finally looked back at Joe. “He dazzled me.” More truth, even though the pang in her chest was more like an ax blade.
“And I guess I made an impression on him too. Have you ever experienced a moment and known, with everything inside you, that it was going to change the rest of your life? That’s what meeting Marcus was like. There was my life before meeting him and my life after. And that’s the way it’ll be defined until the day I die. Before and after.”
Joe had stopped scribbling. He stared at Cora, absorbed, as she told him the simple truth.
“I’m starting to see why Mr. Ubeli might have been dazzled in return,” he said.
Cora tilted her head and smiled at him. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Garcia. Now come this way, I want to show you the puppies.”
“That went well, I think,” Maeve said, looking at Cora over her steaming cup of tea. Maeve always said there was nothing that couldn’t be solved over a good cup of tea. But Maeve had o
nly met Marcus once, and briefly, at the wedding.
“Hopefully the publicity will bring in more people to the shelter looking to adopt,” Cora said.
“I was eavesdropping,” Maeve admitted, making Cora smile.
“I would expect nothing less.”
Maeve’s face went serious. “But how are you really?”
She reached out and squeezed Cora’s knee. They were sitting in the back of the shelter in Maeve’s cramped office on stools beside the tiny rest area where a microwave, coffee, and tea station had been set up in a corner.
Cora tipped her head back and let out a heavy sigh.
“That bad?”
Cora looked back at her friend. “Not bad, necessarily,” Cora said. She wondered how much she could say without revealing the true extent of it.
“Marriage is… Well, marriage to a man like Marcus is…more complex and intense than I was maybe prepared for.”
“Honey, you’re only what, nineteen? I’d be shocked if it wasn’t, though I wish the honeymoon phase would’ve lasted a little longer.”
Cora smiled. “Marcus works long hours and he’s not always the best communicator.” That was putting it mildly. “And I guess I worry that…” How to put this? “I came to the city to try to find myself. To be free of my controlling mother and now…”
“Now you’re married to a controlling man?”
Cora nodded. Again, an understatement.
“It’s not that surprising, honey,” Maeve said gently. “It was what you were used to all your life. And it’s true what they say, unfortunately. We are attracted to partners like our parents because it’s all we know.”
Cora dropped her face into her hand. “Gods, don’t say that,” she moaned. “The last person I want to be married to is someone like my mother.”
Maeve laughed. But then she got serious again. “Is he good to you? Is he kind?”
Cora stared at the floor for a long moment before finally admitting, “Yes.”
She looked up at Maeve. “He’s not like my mom. He’s not petty or mean for meanness sake.” Then she wondered if that was true. “I don’t know, it’s still early. What if he really is like my mom?”
