Innocence (Tales of Olympus #1)(25)

Cora knew Maeve felt a matronly affection for her but it wasn’t necessary. “I’m a big girl. I know what I’m doing.”

Maeve didn’t look convinced. “Did you see today’s paper?”

Cora frowned. “No,” she said but Maeve was already holding out the paper she’d had under her arm.

“I was using the paper to line the cages and the headline caught my eye. How well do you really know him?”

Cora stared down at the New Olympian Times. Known Crime Boss Surfaces at Club. The picture was grainy but she’d recognize Marcus anywhere.

Cora averted her eyes from the paper and scrubbed violently at the corner of the cage for a moment while she tried to gather her thoughts.

Crime boss.

Was it true?

But then she thought of how Marcus was treated everywhere they went. The bowed heads, the fearful, surreptitious glances. The power she knew he wielded, even if she hadn’t understood why. And the darkness in him. If she was being honest, she’d suspected it was something like this, hadn’t she? But being honest with herself wasn’t her forte lately.

Because what she was feeling wasn’t surprise. It was the queasy uneasiness of confirmation. She’d never asked Marcus too closely about his business because she hadn’t wanted to know.

But here it was in black and white. Printed on the front page.

She glanced back at the paper Maeve was still holding out and her eyes skimmed the first paragraph. They called Marcus the Lord of the Underworld. She looked away again but Maeve obviously wasn’t going to drop the issue so easily.

“How well do you know him?” she asked again.

Cora stopped scrubbing and tossed the sponge back into the bucket of soapy water. She scooted out of the cage and pulled off her second glove, then pushed back wisps of hair that had escaped her ponytail.

“He’s a good man, Maeve.”

She pulled the newspaper out of Maeve’s hands and tossed it to the floor of the cage she’d cleaned. She liked Maeve, she really did. They’d hit it off ever since she’d come in to volunteer, but Cora didn’t need another mother trying to tell her what she could and couldn’t do.

Still, she respected Maeve. She was nothing like Cora’s real mother. She wasn’t pushy or overbearing and it was unfair to lump the two into the same category, so Cora reached out and squeezed the older woman’s hand.

“Trust me,” Cora said. “The paper always sensationalizes things. Marcus is a good man.” She didn’t know what else to say, but of that she was sure. He was good.

Maeve looked unconvinced but she nodded and squeezed Cora’s hand in return. “Promise me you won’t let yourself get swallowed up in him. You left home to find yourself and be free of your family.” Cora had told Maeve a truncated version of why she’d left home, and she nodded at Maeve’s assessment. “So don’t let him steamroll over you. There’s no need to rush things. And if you ever need help, remember you can always come to me.”

Cora smiled in appreciation at her friend’s concern. After months in the city, she did count this woman as a friend, the first she’d made apart from Marcus. Did it say something about her that the two people she’d gotten close to were both over a decade her senior, with Maeve make that two decades? Her mom had always said she had an old soul.

“All right,” Cora dusted off her jeans as she stood up. “I have to go. I’ll see you on Thursday.”

Maeve nodded and Cora headed for the bathroom. She changed quickly out of her work clothes and into a clingy black dress with a daring slit up the thigh. She put on some mascara and lip-gloss, and headed to the front, which was a little shop for pet goods.

Sharo was waiting. “Miss Vestian,” he said, holding open the door for her.

Marcus worked so much, she only got to see him every few days. But whenever they were together, it was like no time at all had passed. They picked up right where they’d left off.

Sharo drove her to the club where she’d met Marcus the very first night. Walking the steps she’d run down so fearfully gave her the oddest sense of déjà vu. She could remember the fear so vividly.

Sharo pushed through the door at the bottom of the stairs and held it open for her. She swallowed. It was just the echo of that fear that was giving her goosebumps right now. It had nothing to do with the newspaper article. Right? Right. She took a deep breath and followed Sharo through the door.

She walked back to Marcus’s office, knocked lightly, and pushed the door open. And immediately relaxed upon seeing Marcus’s familiar and beloved face.

He kept his office so dark his face was as shadowed as it was the first night she’d met him, all hard lines and harsh angles. But that was the air that Marcus liked to project, wasn’t it? He was cold and scary to everyone but her.

...or was she just deluding herself? Was she actually special? When it came down to it, how well did she really know Marcus? She knew how he made her feel but that wasn’t quite the same thing.

“Hi,” she said shyly.

His head came up from the papers he was looking over and he paused, obviously taking her in. He did that fairly often, unabashedly checking her out and if the heated look in his eyes was anything to go by, appreciating what he saw.

He pushed his chair back from the desk and held out an arm for her, beckoning her closer.