by Stasia Black
“Easy, Mrs. Ubeli, I’m here on your husband’s orders.” The man courteously averted his eyes towards the wall. He was identical to every other Shade—black slacks, black shirt and dark shades, sitting right in her living room. Meanwhile her hair was a mess and she was wearing nothing but one of Marcus’s oversized undershirts.
“I thought you guys were supposed to wait outside.” A thought hit her and she asked with not a little bit of horror, “How long have you been in here?”
“Since about sunrise.”
Was that when Marcus had left the apartment? Gods, so obviously these guys knew she’d been sleeping over at his place. Biting her lip, she warred over whether to turn and shower, or go make coffee. She didn’t have time, like really didn’t have time.
But in the end, she couldn’t imagine facing the day without caffeine. Maybe it would help with this damn headache. Ignoring the man, she crossed the room and started a pot, feeding Brutus while it brewed.
“I’ll take him out, if you want,” the Shade offered. “I like dogs.”
“Uh, thanks. If it’s not too much trouble.”
“My partner Fats will be in to wait in the living room while you get ready,” he warned her. “You’re to have a man with you at all times.”
“Ok,” she mumbled, rolling her eyes. At least they hadn’t been ordered to wait in the bedroom.
The man waited until Brutus was done eating, clipped his leash on and walked him outside. A tall, gangly man walked in.
“Fats?” she asked, eyebrows going up.
The man grinned. Grabbing a mug of coffee, she went to hide in the bedroom.
She showered and dressed in record time, putting on only a light dusting of makeup. When she was ready, the Shades were waiting to walk her to Marcus’s car.
Marcus himself got out to hold the door for her. Cora’s breath caught at the sight of his handsome figure, broad shoulders and narrow waist with a suit tailored to show them off perfectly.
And every moment from last night came back in vivid, high-res detail. Shamelessly grinding against him right in the doorway. Begging him to fuck her. Cumming around his fingers. His cock. Begging for him in her ass—
“You need a robe,” Marcus said after they’d slid into the back seat.
“I know,” she said, blushing. The Shade must have turned in a report.
“Come here,” he demanded.
Shit. Because the other thing she remembered from last night?
Other than orgasm after orgasm after orgasm?
I’m yours, Marcus. I always will be. You know it and I know it.
What. The. Hell. Was. Wrong. With. Her?
More like, what was wrong with those pills? She was never taking another one again, that was for damn sure. She should never have taken two, she got that, but damn—couldn’t Armand have warned her about possible side effects? And what the hell kind of side effects were those anyway??
And now here Marcus was, gray eyes expectant. And she had to go face the mayor and try to get him to give up information about the shipment—
She scooted a little closer to Marcus but not too close, pulling her dress down as she did so. Her outfit was professional, yet flirty, the dress a coral color with a scoop neck that skimmed the top of her cleavage. It showed off her figure perfectly and the color made her skin glow. Marcus’s eyes swept over her and they narrowed, but he didn’t say anything.
“You sure you’re ok this morning?”
Now her face was really red. “Coffee’s helping the headache.” She held up the travel mug she’d brought from home, crossing her legs, reversing the movement once she realized what she’d done.
Marcus mistook her unease as nervousness. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
“You got a meeting with the mayor in less than twelve hours. I think it’s too late for me to back out now. How did you manage that, by the way?”
“Called in favors. Armand helped.”
“Armand?” Cora wanted to ask how her friend had an in with the mayor, but of course, Armand was a Merche. His last name carried all sorts of weight with the highest echelon, disowned son or not.
Marcus started drilling her again on what to say. They spent the next fifteen minutes as they crept through morning traffic going over it.
“The mayor will toy with you. And he’s good at reading people—it’s probably his number one skill. But you, more than anyone of us, have nothing to hide.”
Cora nodded, thinking of the phone call she made to the detective before she ran from the Estate and set all this mess in motion. Right. Nothing to hide…
Her husband was still talking. “…and relax. Stick to the script and remember, you have an advantage.”
“What advantage?” Cora asked, worry starting to gnaw at her.
“Your legs look fucking great in that dress.”
“Marcus,” she protested, and tugged at her hem.
His dark head darted close to hers. “As soon as this business is done, we’re settling things between us once and for all.”
If she looked at him anymore, she’d drown. She stared out the window for the rest of the ride, running over the script in her head.
“Mrs. Ubeli? This way please.” A young man in a navy suit motioned Cora to go into the office.
Inside Zeke Sturm stood, the leader of the most powerful city in the world, with his short blond curls, bouncing with boyish energy.
“Please call me Zeke.” He took Cora’s hand and kissed it, guiding her into a seat as his gaze raked up and down her body.
“Thanks for meeting me on such short notice.” She flashed him a smile.
“No trouble at all,” he said smoothly, even though Cora knew it must have been a lot of trouble. Between nine and noon was prime time for a politician, and they’d arranged the meet twelve hours prior. If he was annoyed, though, he didn’t show it.
“Please, help yourself.” Zeke gestured to the silver coffee and tea service on the desk. She waited, but instead of going back to sit in his chair, he leaned against the desk and looked down at her.
His position offered him a perfect view of her cleavage, she realized, but his smile was mild and nothing more than friendly.
“So,” he started, “you’re here to talk me into being the guest of honor at the fundraiser for the animal shelters?”
“A fashion show.” Cora leaned forward in her seat. She and Maeve had come up with the idea ages ago, and last night Marcus and Sharo decided it was a good enough cover for her to meet with Zeke. “Models and pooches. And Armand and his team at Fortune are in charge of the designs.”
Zeke grinned. “Fashion is going to the dogs,” he quipped and she laughed.
“Exactly. Just show up to cut the ribbon for the new dog park, and a quick photo op. Your constituents will love it.”
“Never hurts to support a good cause. Alright,” he said, slapping the side of the desk. “I’ll do it.”
“Really? That’s great…Thank you.”
Zeke’s face also held a smile, but it looked wrong somehow. “Is that it? Your husband pulled every string to get you in front of me and that’s all you want?”
She flushed under his piercing gaze and he spread his hands apologetically. “I’m a busy man, Mrs. Ubeli. No sense beating around the bush.”
She cleared her throat. “He did have a question for you. Some property was collected from the docks a while ago. He’d like his personal effects returned to him.”
Now Zeke looked amused but he stayed quiet as she went on.
“He thinks the boxes have been tampered with and the contents removed.” Before continuing, she glanced into the corner, where a mounted camera fixed her with its glossy eye. Under its impassive watch, she tried to remember everything Marcus and Sharo had drilled her on this morning.
“She’s walking into a lion’s den,” Marcus had said, almost calling the whole thing off right before she’d gotten out of the car.
“In the daylight
, the lion’s muzzled.” Sharo had responded, looking for all the world like he was at ease. Cora knew better.
“Ezekiel Sturm does not do business in the daylight, never forget that. Most of his shit is buried deep, like an iceberg. But it’s there,” Marcus said, and answered her question before she asked. “I’ve known him a long time.”
Now, staring into the mayor’s cutting blue eyes, she told herself to breathe. “Can you help us?”
Zeke paused, letting his gaze drift over her. “They were smart, sending you,” he said finally. “I like a new sweet little thing in a sundress, every spring.” He picked up a pen off his desk and pretended to study it. “How far did your husband tell you to go to soften me up?”
Cora stiffened and, gripping the hem of her dress, drew it down.
He laughed at her. “Relax. I don’t want you.”
Lion’s den, she reminded herself.
“Good, because you can’t have me,” she bit out.
Zeke tossed the pen he’d been toying with on his desk. “Tell Ubeli that I can’t do anything to return his personal effects. They’re part of a police investigation. If he submits a claim I’m sure it will be filled in…a few years.”
She stood. The conversation was obviously over. He wasn’t going to give them anything. “See you at the fundraiser.”
He inclined his head, his blond curls falling attractively into his face. “I hear you and Ubeli were separated. Are you working something out?”
Cora wanted to tell him it was none of his business. “We’re talking.”
He studied her with quick, cutting blue eyes. “If you want to divorce him, I can protect you.”
“Thank you,” she said politely. “I’ll let you know.” She didn’t tell him that she’d been with her husband long enough to know that protection came with a price.
“Practicing your husband’s poker face?” Zeke seemed amused and she’d had it.
“Thank you for your time. I also appreciate you giving us the use of your penthouse suite at the Crown Hotel. We do so enjoy it.”
Anger flashed on his face; she turned on her heel and hurried out, frightened and elated to have scored at least one hit.
Seventeen
Marcus sat, tense and on edge inside the back of the SUV outside the mayor’s office waiting for Cora. He glared up at the building.
“She’s been in there too long,” he growled.
Sharo glanced back at him in the rearview mirror. “Only been 45 minutes. And you know Sturm. He probably had her wait outside an extra half hour because he could.”
“I’ve had about enough of Mayor Zeke Sturm flexing his muscles. It’s time to remind him of who is really in charge of this city.”
Sharo raised a brow. “Maybe don’t declare war on the mayor’s office until you heard what he’s gotta say. And maybe when you don’t got a target on your own forehead.”
Marcus grumbled under his breath and glared back out the window.
Finally. There she was. Cora was pushing through the exit. Marcus took a deep breath, the first it felt like he’d taken in 45 minutes.
He should never have let her go in there alone. Never again. He didn’t care what sort of sense it made. It was his job to be her shield and he couldn’t do that if he was outside waiting in the Fucking car.
She hurried down the steps, looking as beautiful as ever in her sharp, knee-length pencil skirt and tailored vest that was buttoned to accentuate her narrow waist and womanly curves. She’d been wearing a coat on the way in. Probably a good thing because if he’d seen that outfit, no way would he have even let her out of the car.
Sharo jumped out and moved around swiftly to open the door for her.
She slid gracefully into the car, staying near the door as Sharo closed it. As if she thought Marcus would allow her to put distance between them. After last night? He didn’t think so.
He quickly disabused her of the notion by grabbing her around her tiny waist and sliding her across the seat until she was flush by his side.
She let out a little squeak but that was her only protest.
“How’d it go?” asked Sharo.
Cora frowned, still wiggling to put distance between herself and Marcus. “Not well. He won’t help us.”
Marcus was far from surprised. There was a reason Zeke had been ducking meeting with him. Something was wrong. Either Zeke had double-crossed him and sold the shipment to someone else—a fatal mistake, Zeke would soon find if Marcus discovered it was true—or something else had happened that Zeke was trying to hide. Either way, Marcus would get to the bottom of it. With or without the mayor’s help.
“Tell me what he said. Don’t leave out a single detail.”
So Cora did, replaying the conversation blow-by-blow. She looked nervous as she came to the end of her story, like she expected Marcus to lose his shit. She ought to know him better by now. He valued control far too much to lose it over someone like Zeke Sturm
“It’s okay, babe.” Marcus patted her thigh. “We’ll get the shipment back; we have other ways.”
She didn’t look convinced. “What if you don’t by the end of the week? What will Waters do?”
“Worried about me?” Marcus grinned.
She sniffed and looked away. “Making sure that I get alimony.”
Marcus laughed and, hooking her close, kissed the top of her head. He cupped her cheek and slowly turned her face back toward his. “But things are getting serious now. I need to go back to the safe house. And you need to come with me.”
Her head immediately started shaking no.
Not this again.
He lifted his other hand so that now he cupped both cheeks, holding her face still as he dropped his forehead to hers. “Stop denying what we have. Who you are. You are my wife and you belong by my side. Last night proved that. You said it yourself.”
She pulled back from him, quick enough that he lost hold of her. “Last night didn’t change anything. It was…” She shook her head and threw her hands up in the air. “Okay, well, I don’t know exactly what last night was. A timeout from the real world. Two adults blowing off steam, I guess.”
What. The. Fuck?
A timeout? “Blowing off steam?” He got right in her face. “You saying that you’re mine forever and begging me to claim your pussy and your ass was blowing off fucking steam?”
Her cheeks went pink and she tried to look away but he cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. “Why did I know you were gonna try to pull this shit?”
“Marcus, I wasn’t myself. I’d taken some sleeping medication and—”
“What the hell are you taking sleeping medication for? And who prescribed it? Because they should lose their license. It was irresponsible and—”
“Stop it. Stop it!” She jerked away from him. “You don’t get to control every little thing in my life anymore. I’m my own person. I can go to whatever doctor I want to. You don’t own me. I can do what I want, when I want—”
Marcus glared at her, his chest in a vice, her words from the night before ringing in his ears about how any cock would do. “You better not be blowing off steam with any other adults.”
“Of course I’m not!” She looked appalled and his stomach unclenched, but only a little.
“Then come with me.”
“No. How many times do I have to tell you that it’s over?”
He got right in her face again. “As many times as it takes for you to get it through your head that it’ll never be over between us. And deep down, you know it too. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have ended up on my doorstep at two in the morning begging me to fuck you.”
Her head jerked quickly back and forth in the negative. “I— I wasn’t— That wasn’t like me. I couldn’t sleep and I was in bed and I got to thinking about you—”
“Please, do go on.”
Her cheeks flushed and she stopped, her lips hardening into a thin line. “You know why I’ll never go with you? Never be with you again? Because yo
u’re an ass!”
“You certainly seemed to like my ass last night,” he leaned in and hissed in her ear, “the way you were grabbing it and demanding, ‘harder, Marcus, fuck me harder.’ I have the fingernail scratches to prove it.”
If he thought her cheeks were bright pink before, they were nothing to the cherry red they went now.
“I did not.”
“I’ll turn around and drop my drawers right here, right now. It’s nothing Sharo hasn’t seen before.” It was true, since Sharo had once helped to dig fragments from a ricochet bullet out of Marcus’s ass. Marcus would be proud to add Cora’s marks to his other scars.
“Don’t you dare,” Cora bit out, her tiny hand batting at his bicep.
He grinned at her. “So it’s settled. You’re coming to the safe house with me.”
“Sharo?” Cora knocked on the glass partition Sharo had raised once they’d gotten on the road. “Sharo!” Cora yelled when he didn’t respond at first.
Marcus could imagine the wary sigh as Sharo finally pushed a button and the partition began to retract. “Thanks Sharo. Could you drop me off at my apartment?”
Okay, now she was really pissing him off.
“This isn’t a game, Cora.” Marcus gripped her thigh. “People have died.”
Her head spun his direction. “You think I don’t know that?” She said it so forcefully, almost like she was accusing him of something.
It felt like being doused with ice. Was she thinking of his mother? Of Chiara? Was she thinking of how women in his family had a habit of dying, because of their proximity to Ubeli men?
My father always kept my mother out of it.
And look how well that turned out for her!
Marcus sat back hard in his seat. Was she right? Was the safest place for her far away from him?
“You heard her,” Marcus barked to Sharo. “Take her to her apartment.”
He ignored her surprise. Sharo merely said, “You got it, boss,” and turned the SUV to go uptown instead of toward the south side.
Cora didn’t say a thing for the ten-minute drive it took to get there and neither did Marcus. He did feel her eyes on him occasionally. He wanted to growl at her to keep her eyes to herself because he was three seconds away from changing his mind, dragging her to the safe house with him, and chaining her to a bed again. Every mile they drove it sounded like a better and better idea.
