by Lee Savino
He frowned and dropped his suitcase by the door. He needed a fucking drink.
But instead of going to the bar at the far end of the room, he found his feet heading towards his bedroom. Because no matter how he tried, he couldn’t rid himself of thoughts of her. And she’d never been more present than when she’d given herself to him completely in his bedroom.
He pushed open the door slowly intending to linger in the memories.
But then he threw it open with a bang. “What the fuck?”
He pulled out his gun from the holster beneath his jacket and swung around, looking for intruders. After confirming the bedroom and ensuite were clear, he closed the door and called Sharo.
“Yes, boss?”
“Security team to the penthouse. Now.”
“Sending them.” Sharo was immediately at attention. “What’s happening?”
“Intruders. They or may not be still on premises,” Marcus said, keeping his voice low.
“Team is on their way. What tipped you off? Did they ransack the place?”
Marcus looked at his bed again and the gruesome tableau that had been laid out there. Three bloody, severed dog heads were arranged as if all belonging to a three-headed dog, a likely reference to Cerberus, guard-dog to the Underworld.
“Looks like the Titans have finally decided to respond to our message from a couple months ago. Either that or Waters has decided to up the stakes.”
Seven
Cora sat on the balcony seats while The Orphan’s voice rang out in the hall. It was beautiful. Pure. Perfect. At the same time, everything was wrong. So wrong.
She clutched the railing, shaking her head. No, she had to stop it. She looked around frantically for someone to help but there was no one.
“If you die before I wake,” Chris sang, “I’ll give my soul; it’s theirs to take—”
“No!” Cora screamed but her voice made no sound even as a monstrous darkness rose behind Chris. “Run!”
Iris stumbled out from the other side of the stage, looking dazed and confused. She was clutching her stomach and when she brought her hands away, they were covered in blood.
“Iris,” Chris shouted, throwing his guitar to the ground and sprinting towards her.
But the darkness, the monster behind him, it was faster. Cora screamed as it swallowed him up, a title wave of blood drenching Iris as she fell to her knees and—
Cora sat up in bed, hand flying to her mouth to stifle her scream as sweat poured down her temples and her heart raced.
On the side table, her phone was buzzing insistently. It must have woken her. Thank the Fates. Sometimes she was stuck in the nightmare world for what felt like an eternity.
Cora wiped her forehead with her forearm and reached for the phone, fumbling for the angry little device.
Missed call…four thirty-two pm. She groaned. She’d gotten only an hour of sleep after getting back from the spa.
Her fingers hit the button to listen to the voicemail.
“Mrs. Ubeli,” said a familiar voice, and she started at hearing her married name. “This is Philip Waters; Mr. Merche gave me your number. Please call me when you get a chance.” He gave his number.
She blinked in confusion for a moment but then remembered her earlier conversation with Armand.
He’d come in while she and Anna were at Metamorphosis, before they’d gone in to get their massages. “Don’t mean to interrupt girl’s day out. I wanted to let you know I gave Perceptions a referral. You remember the big black guy in the white tux?”
She remembered the intense stare down between the tall man and her husband. “Philip Waters…uh, yes.”
“Well, Waters called trying to get in touch with you. Cora, he is raving about how great the party was last night. I sent him to your website but I’ll send you his number, too. This is huge! He owns a huge company—I bet he wants you to do something corporate. That’s big money right there. I’ll help you, of course. We’ll get some sub-contractors.” Armand’s voice had buzzed with excitement but Cora had been beyond exhausted at that point. She’d hoped she’d fall asleep during the massage, but no such luck.
Saving the voicemail, she dropped her phone on the bedside table with a groan. How long could a person go without sleep before they went crazy?
Hauling herself out of bed, she went tiredly to the bedroom door to stare at the rest of the apartment. No one was home. Olivia would probably work through the night with Pig. Where Olivia was a devil, stubborn and driven, Pig—Cora didn’t know his real name—was an angel, sweet and talented. His ideas were cutting edge, Olivia had told her once, but he’d give them away if it wasn’t for her push to get them patented, designed, and distributed properly. Olivia was a fiend when it came to business.
Anna was probably getting a private tour of the studio by her new boy toy, Max Mars.
Meanwhile, Cora thought, I’m slowly going mad. Grabbing a laundry basket, she started picking up the place.
When she went to clean her purse, the baggie of white pills Armand had given her fell out, and she paused, considering. She hated taking medicine for anything. Even when she was little, her mother would let the fever burn out or feed her chicken soup for a cold. She frowned. Her mom was scarcely a role model, though, considering she was a murderous crime lord. Then Cora laughed humorously. She had a lot of those in her life.
She pulled out one of the little pills. It weighed heavily in her palm, a fair trade for a night’s rest.
After swallowing it with a glass of water, she waited a few minutes, then kept packing for her upcoming move.
She was rummaging around in her suitcase when she heard a clink. Checking the small pockets, she pulled out her wedding rings, the plain white gold band and matching engagement ring, unique with both diamonds and red stones. She slid it on her finger, watching the diamonds and garnets catch the light.
She remembered the night Marcus had first but it on her finger. That had been another lifetime. She’d been another woman. A girl, really. She hadn’t even known who or what Marcus was yet. She’d been so naïve. And if she could go back in time and warn her former self? She flopped back on the couch and stared at the ceiling fan. If she could do it all differently…would she?
A knock at the door startled her out of her thoughts.
She glided across the small apartment and opened it, expecting Armand or even one of her roommates who’d forgotten their keys. She didn’t expect the familiar dark-haired form, with tall, broad shoulders filling the narrow frame.
“Marcus,” she whispered numbly.
The next second he was on her, his large hands cradling her face with infinite care as his mouth closed over hers. Firm lips pressing, pulling, dominating hers until they parted.
She closed her eyes, her breath leaving her in a rush. What was she doing? She couldn’t just let him— Marcus’s hands caressed her cheeks, her shoulders, her hips, guiding her backwards. And she let him. His scent washed over her.
She clutched his shoulders for balance at first, then harder, her fingers digging in and grabbing him. Yes. She missed him. She needed him.
He swung her up and her legs locked around his waist. Then they were in her bedroom. On the bed.
Her hips arched upwards, juddering, begging as Marcus braced his big body over hers. His mouth, his hands, were everywhere. His stubble scraped the inner curve of her breast and she cried out in shock at the abrasive pleasure.
Fabric tore and she kicked free of her ruined sleep shorts. Her hands turned to claws, digging into the solid muscle of her husband’s back.
Please, I need—
He reared up, a massive shadow over her. In a moment he’d fill her and all would be well. Everything in the world swirled away. It was only Marcus, Marcus, Marcus. She couldn’t see his face, but as her body convulsed in painful pleasure, the light silhouetted the curve of his cheek, cruel and confident and everything she’d longed for in the eternity they’d been apart...
Cora woke up wit
h her body shuddering in the throes of her orgasm. Her hand flew to her naked chest as if she could still her pounding heart.
She looked around in confusion even as she checked the sum of her naked limbs. In the cool bedroom light she couldn’t tell whether it was night or day. Marcus was nowhere to be seen. Had it been…a dream?
What the hell? She pushed her hair back from her face and tentatively felt herself down there. No, she hadn’t had sex. Sex with Marcus, especially after going so long without—she’d definitely feel it afterwards.
She flopped backwards on her pillow. She wasn’t sure which was more unsettling, the sex dream or the nightmares.
Her phone chirped at her from an unruly pile of pillows on the floor. 7:56 a.m., the glowing light told her, over twelve hours since she’d taken the sleeping pill. She didn’t remember anything—taking off her clothes, climbing into bed—nothing except for the dream.
It had been a dream, right? Though she didn’t feel sore, it had still felt so real.
Blushing hard, she gathered the bedspread around her naked form and peeked out of the bedroom. No one was in the apartment, and there was no way to tell whether or not someone had been there.
Except that the air in the bedroom held the heady smell of sex.
Okay. Enough. Cora jumped off the bed and ripped off all the sheets, throwing them in a pile for laundry before taking the coldest shower of her life.
Eight
Gods, she was beautiful. No, it went beyond simple beauty, Marcus thought as he stared at his wife sitting in one of her favorite coffee shops. She often came here to work on her laptop. Considering the state of things, Marcus had a Shade assigned to her at all times. He didn’t care if she found it stifling. Her safety was a nonnegotiable.
She looked to be working through her receipts, and each of her movements was so graceful, it was like an unrehearsed dance. Her fingertips glided along the laptop keys and her arms were fluid as she moved receipts from one pile to another. Her intelligent eyes were so focused, she seemed lost to the world. It was like that with everything she did. Even when she only volunteered at an animal shelter, she gave it her all. In friendships, she never held back.
And when she loved, she loved so effusively that being on the receiving end was the most incredible and addictive thing in the world.
Marcus was just about to head her way when a young man, maybe college-aged, approached her and put his hand on the chair opposite. “Is this seat taken?” He flashed a smile that Marcus wanted to shove down his throat.
“It’s mine,” Marcus growled, covering the distance between them in only a few strides. The little prick turned and stiffened. He took one look up at Marcus and showed he had an ounce of brains in his head by taking off without a word.
Marcus sat down across from Cora. A deep sense of relief and rightness washed through him at being so near her again.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed. Her flashing eyes had him smiling. He loved it when she was feisty.
“We need to talk.” Marcus gave a gesture with his hand. Behind him in the coffee shop, his Shades moved, escorting customers out and even going behind the counter to send the green-aproned baristas into their own storeroom.
“What the—” Cora watched his men clear the coffee shop and then snapped her gaze back to Marcus “I told you I’d call.”
“This isn’t a social call.” His tone went grim as he remembered the not so subtle message that had been left in his bed. No one had been found in the apartment but his men also hadn’t discovered how anyone had been able to break in in the first place. The lock hadn’t been jimmied and nothing was broken. If they were able to get in like that, why not wait and try to assassinate him? Too many questions without answers. He didn’t like it.
“It’s business, not pleasure.” He tossed a black phone onto her bag. “When you do call me, make sure you use this.”
Cora stared at the burner phone. “Is this really necessary?”
“I’m receiving death threats. Not the usual ones I get, either. These messages are…targeted. Serious. The kind that let me know the people sending them are knowledgeable enough to carry them out.”
Her eyes went wide. “Death threats?”
“I’m handling it. But you need to be aware.” He nodded towards the phone. “And take precautions.”
She stared at him for a moment. Her eyes dropped in the most beautiful submission as she reached for the phone. Marcus couldn’t deny the triumph roaring through his chest.
“I got it,” she murmured as she slid the burner into her purse. “If I call you, I’ll use this.”
“When,” he corrected. If she thought she could retreat now, she was out of her mind. Not after giving that little taste reminding him of how delicious it was when she submitted.
“What?”
“When you call me.”
She glared at him and he couldn’t help his smile. “After this display I may not want to call you.”
He genuinely had no idea what she was talking about. “What display?”
“This.” She waved her hand around.
“Neutral ground.” He shrugged. “I chose a place where you’d feel comfortable.”
“Normally people come in and order drinks. But you come in and get your ninjas or whatever to scare off the barista and block the door with your bodyguards to keep out all the customers.”
Marcus just looked at her. She threw up her hands, her voice rising. “You did a hostile takeover of this coffee shop.”
“You understand I’m here on your turf for your sake. But I also need to feel comfortable. My enemies won’t hesitate to target me.”
“I got that when we got shot up at the restaurant where we were having dinner.”
“We’re not speaking of that here.” Marcus’s jaw went stiff. If he thought of that day, he’d need to break something.
“I thought you were here to speak to me. This is me talking.” She threw open her arms. “I’d hate for you to clear out a coffee shop for nothing.”
He bit back a smile. Gods, she was spectacular. She’d grown so much from the naïve ingénue he’d first met. Now she was a firecracker. Bold. Explosive.
He wanted to toss her laptop to the floor and lay her out over the table right here. One thing that had never changed, and Marcus hoped never would, was the fact that her every emotion played out on her face.
And like always, he felt his desire reciprocated in the crackling electricity between them. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. So why was she denying it?
He leaned in. “I have to disappear for a while.” He registered the surprise on her face but kept going. “Come with me. A week of lying low. We’d be able to talk, see if we can work things out.”
Emotions darted one after the other across her face and she sputtered, “What? You can’t just…you’re asking me to…”
“I have no reason to believe you’re in danger. That’s why you have a choice. But I would like us to talk. Cora, I want you back. I want us to be together.”
“Marcus,” she began, and sighed. “I’ve started a life. I know it sounds stupid. It’s only been two months, but…”
She bit her lip in the way that drove him crazy. And she kept talking instead of shutting him out, which was progress. “I’ve started a business and I think it’ll work. Perceptions is more than a model placement service. I want to be an advocate for these young women. I know what this industry can do to them.”
“You know predators exist.”
She nodded and leaned forward. “I help get these women legitimate jobs. Maybe not the most glamorous or highest paying jobs, yet,” she admitted. “But it’s starting to come together. Young women come to make it in the big city and get sucked down and destroyed. Perceptions could be a life line.”
Of course she would make something like this her life’s work. And this was only the beginning, he had no doubt. Her heart had no bounds.
“And now I’ve got clients lining
up,” she continued excitedly. “Armand already gave one of the guests my number; he said the man was so impressed with what I’d done and Armand told him about my business.”
“I’m proud of you.”
Her breath caught. She flushed, and looked away.
“Which guest?”
She paused and for a moment he thought she wouldn’t tell him but she arched an eyebrow. “The big man in the white suit. Philip Waters.”
What?
“Philip Waters is asking about you?” Marcus didn’t try to hide his fury. That bastard knew the Code. Families were left out of business.
“Um, yeah,” Cora said, sounding less sure of herself. “He met me at the party and got my number from Armand. He called me for a consultation—”
Marcus picked her phone up off the table and started scrolling. He saw Waters’ number and that he’d left a voicemail. Feeling even more pissed than when he’d found the dog’s heads in his bed, he pressed the button to listen to the message.
“Hey!” Cora cried as he raised the phone to his ear. Frowning, he listened to Waters’ putting on a friendly voice as he asked for a consultation, as Cora said. Marcus swore.
“What are you doing?” she asked as he pressed more buttons. She made a move to reach for it and he halted her with a gesture.
“Blocked him.” Marcus tossed the phone onto her bag. “If he tries to call again or finds another way, use the burner and contact the emergency number. It comes straight to me or Sharo. You remember the emergency number?”
Cora was still staring open mouthed at her phone. “I can’t believe you did that. You blocked my first real client.”
“Cora, run from everything I’ve said today but understand this—” Marcus reached forward and grasped her hand, ensuring that she was looking him in the eye. “You need to stay away from Waters. I’ll talk to Armand, let him know the deal.”
But Cora only looked pissed. “Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head and pushing her chair back from the table. “You don’t get to order me around anymore.”
