Innocence (Tales of Olympus #1)(18)

“Queen of the Dead, we’re ready for you—” a woman with a tablet came out, saw the two of them and took a step back. “Oh, Mr. Ubeli, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, no,” Marcus called back, “she’s ready.”

Cora was still feeling paralyzed but somehow she forced her feet to move forward anyway. Away from him. How, she wasn’t sure. But she even managed speech. “Queen of the Dead?” she asked the woman with the tablet. “Do you mean me?”

The woman nodded.

“Come find me at the after party,” Marcus called. “After the show. I’ll be waiting.”

Without looking back, Cora crossed through the door, into the lights.





Afterwards, her eyes remained dazzled by cameras. She couldn’t even remember walking the catwalk. All she could focus on was not tripping in the heels they’d put her in. She’d gotten to the end and posed like an assistant had instructed her, and the explosion of camera flashes had about blinded her. But she’d turned on cue and managed to get backstage without tripping herself or any other models so, win.

And now the afterparty. One of the assistants had brought Cora a dress to change into. The assistant said it was from Armand, but from the silent looks Cora got from all the other models, she guessed it was really from Marcus.

What are you doing? she asked herself as she walked with the group of models and Armand’s entourage and show attendees one block over to where the afterparty was being held. Do you really think he’s not going to expect something in return for all these so-called ‘gifts’?

Men were pathologically incapable of being trustworthy, her mother always told her. They always want one thing and one thing only. That’s why I keep you here where it’s safe.

But…would it be so bad if Marcus wanted her like that? She didn’t need gifts. It would be enough if he was interested in her. He didn’t need to do anything else.

And oh, the way she felt when he even looked at her…

And besides, he hadn’t tried anything. Nothing like the ‘one thing’ men supposedly only wanted. If Marcus were a bad man, he could have tried to force himself upon her a hundred times over when he had her alone in his penthouse.

But he hadn’t. Because he was honorable. He was a good man. And kind, and generous, and handsome and—

They got to the afterparty and if she thought the show and preparations for it had been overwhelming, she quickly realized it was nothing compared to when New Olympians really got down to party.

The party was held on a gorgeous rooftop terrace. The evening was cool but there were space heaters all throughout the terrace keeping it warm and everyone around her seemed to be in a jubilant mood. The show was apparently an unmitigated success according to early reviews and social media.

All around her people laughed and chatted and Cora smiled but she never seemed to be in on the jokes about this or that model or actor.

And all they served was champagne and other alcohol. Cora was parched and dying for a glass of water.

She went in search of one when she heard her name called.

“Cora! Darling!”

Armand came over to her and clasped her hand. “Our famous Queen of the Dead, in the flesh. I wondered where you’d gotten off to. Come, come, I have so many people I want to introduce you to.”

And for the next thirty minutes, Cora was whisked around in a whirlwind of introductions, names and faces Cora knew she’d never remember. She tried to object when Armand kept introducing her as Marcus’s girl but to no avail.

Finally, Cora managed to excuse herself from Armand’s side to go in look of the water she needed even more desperately now.

She’d asked for a cup from the bartender and taken her first amazing, refreshing, beautiful sip when a shadow loomed in front of her, making her almost choke on her last swallow.

“Hello, goddess.”

Marcus.

She rolled her eyes and coughed into her elbow, some of the water going down the wrong pipe in her surprise at seeing him.

How did he always sneak up on her like that?

“Not a goddess anymore,” she finally managed to say once she got her breathing under control. She snuck another sip of water. “Just regular old me.” She lifted her hands, ta da, here I am, like a dork.

“I beg to differ.”

She shook her head at him. She couldn’t even look him in the eye. It had only been hours since she’d last seen him, but she was overwhelmed all over again. Every time. How could she not be? He was the epitome of power and masculine beauty. Plato’s form of the perfect man, made flesh.

“Cora,” he called softly. “Look at me.”

She obeyed. She couldn’t tell him she couldn’t look at him directly or his perfection would scorch her like the sun. She met his grey eyes and welcomed the inner flutters, a thousand butterflies throwing a party in her middle.

“How do you like the party?” he asked, eyes crinkling. Like he knew how he affected her and he liked it.

The glittering terrace stretched before them. A jewel-blue pool was illuminated in the center and everywhere beautiful people stood gathered, chatting beautifully.

“Everything’s so lovely.” Cora tilted her head to the side.

“But?”

Cora blinked. She hadn’t meant to let any dissatisfaction show through. She knew this was all meant to be a treat. Getting to be a model. Coming here to this fancy afterparty. It was a Cinderella moment and she didn’t mean to be ungrateful—especially since she was getting paid on top of all of the rest of it.