Innocence (Tales of Olympus #1)(2)

“Chase me. Chase me, Co-wa!”

“Oh I’m coming.” She gave him a fair head start before rolling, her long blonde hair catching crazy static electricity the more she did it.

As she finished a roll and started to twist into another, she caught sight of a figure standing in the door and yelped.

“Daddy!” Timmy cried. “Daddy, come play wowy monsta with us!”

Cora yanked down the hem of her shirt that had ridden up and got to her feet.

Mr. Donahue was looking at her, not his son. He was in his mid-forties, an architect who was always well-dressed and put together, if a little overly fond of hair gel. He was holding a glass of scotch. “Looks like you can have the night off after all. I decided not to go out.”

“Oh.” Cora blinked. “Thanks.” She had asked for the night off a couple of days ago. Some of her friends, fellow nannies she’d met at the park when she took Timmy every day, had invited her out. But Mrs. Donahue told her no because her firm was having some celebratory dinner tonight. Which apparently Mr. Donahue had just begged off from. Eeek. As desperately as she needed this job, the family dynamics could get seriously weird sometimes.

But who was she to judge family dynamics? Her and her mom qualified for the screwed-up family Olympics.

“Daddy. Daddy!” Timmy ran up and started tugging on Mr. Donahue’s pants leg. “Come play.”

Cora looked between Timmy and Mr. Donahue. He was always asking her to call him Paul but she preferred Mr. Donahue.

“Are you sure it’d be okay?” she asked, eyes flicking toward the door. Mr. Donahue noticed and glowered, taking a swig of his scotch.

“Go. Have a good time. You’re young. You deserve a gods damned night off now and then.” She flinched at his tone and he paused and ran a hand down his face. “Jesus, I’m sorry. Seriously. I’ll put Timmy to bed.” He offered a tired smile. “You’re officially off duty.”

Cora bobbed her head. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

She hadn’t done much else other than work, aka, spend time with Timmy, since she got to the city six weeks ago.

As much as she loved the little guy, she’d come to the city because she wanted to live bigger. To see the world. To have friends.

To live free.

She bent down and gave Timmy a kiss on the head. “See you tomorrow, monster.”

He made a roaring noise and she made one back.

She snagged her phone and hurried out of the room and up the stairs to shower and get ready.

She texted Helena when she got to her room: I can come tonight after all!

It was several minutes before Helena texted back. We’re meeting at The Styx at 10.

Ten? She was usually in bed by ten. Timmy was usually jumping on her face at five-thirty in the morning. Some days earlier.

Her thumbs moved clumsily over her phone screen. Unlike her peers, she hadn’t grown up with a cell phone glued to her side. She was still getting used to all the marvels of technology. Back at the farm, they hadn’t even had TV. Much less internet or cell phones. No, mom wouldn’t dare have any of the outside world corrupt her daughter.

Cora shook her head angrily and hit send on the message. Sounds great. See you there.

She pushed play on the music again, leaving it on the Timmy playlist. Smashmouth’s All Star came on.

Let go of the past. She wasn’t on the farm anymore. She was in the big city. Living on her own. She had a job, a cell phone, friends and now a night out on the town. This was what life was supposed to be.

Her head started bopping along to the music. Then her hips. Then she was dancing around the room and laughing, arms spread wide.

She was free.

And tonight she’d go dancing and maybe meet a cute boy. The whole world was in front of her and she was ready to meet it, arms wide open.





Two





3 Hours Later



Oh gods, how had it all gone so wrong, so fast? Cora lifted a hand to her head as the lights of the club swirled and danced in a crazy pattern. She shook her head and staggered, sluggish and bleary in the rowdy pit.

Helena. She needed to find Helena. Or Europa.

She was supposed to ask them if she could sleep on their couch tonight.

Because she couldn’t go home.

Ha. Home. What a crock.

It had never been her home. And now she couldn’t go back there.

Not after Paul had waited up for her and accosted her at the bottom of the stairs when she tried to leave to meet her friends.

The house had been dark, Timmy asleep and Diana still out at her dinner.

Paul had been drunk, that much was clear. He’d leaned against the wall of the foyer, blocking the front door so she couldn’t leave.

“You’re so beautiful, Cora. I think it’s time to stop with all the pretending.”

Cora had tried to edge around him and get to the door.

“I need to go, Mr. Donahue. My friends are expecting me.”

“Paul,” he said, slamming his hand to the wall behind her head, boxing her in. “How many times do I have to tell you? Call me Paul.”

His breath had been sour from the scotch. He’d reached up a hand to touch her face and she’d shoved it away.

“Stop it!” she’d hissed incredulously. “What are you doing? You have a wife! And a beautiful little boy.”