Innocence (Tales of Olympus #1)(6)

She was finally safe.

It was over.

She sank back into the chair. She hoped her wet dress wouldn’t ruin the red leather but she couldn’t give it more than a moment’s thought. It was so warm in here. Warmth and safety felt like everything that mattered in the world.

Stupid, really. She was still out of a job. And since the job had been a live-in nannying gig, she was also out of a place to live. She drew the coat even tighter around herself.

“You were his girl?”

It took a second to register his meaning, but as soon as it did— “No,” Cora said violently, shaking her head and shuddering, “No. I didn’t know him before tonight. He put something in my drink. And he—he—”

“Hey,” he said softly, his eyebrows furrowed. “I’ll make sure he never shows his face around here again.”

Who was this man, to make such a promise? But the way he stated it, with such authority, made her believe it. It should have disconcerted her maybe.

Instead all she felt was relief.

Relief and warmth.

She nuzzled her head into the plush leather of the wing-backed chair. Gods she was tired. More tired than she’d ever been in her whole life.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Cora,” she said automatically, and then pressed her lips together. Should she have told him her name? Strangers are dangerous, her mother’s words rang through her head. The outside world is treacherous. It’s only safe here on the farm. I’m the only one you can trust.

“Nice to meet you Cora. I’m Marcus. Marcus Ubeli.”

She nodded sleepily.

“Nice…to meet you…too.”

Her eyes kept falling shut. It was rude and she struggled to blink them open. She really did. Well maybe she’d rest them. But only for a moment.

Only…a…moment.

But the warmth folded her under and she fell asleep.





Three





When Cora woke up, she remembered the drink—the red liquid, shining jewel-like in the glass. She startled awake, her heartbeat racing like a terrified rabbit’s.

But she wasn’t in the backseat of a car. She sat up and looked around, head swinging back and forth, her messy hair falling about her face.

She was in a hotel room. A really, really fancy hotel room, judging from what she could make out by the light of the single dim lamp.

Was she still dreaming? She scrubbed groggily at her eyes but slowly, she started to remember the night before. Paul, the club, her so-called friends, the man who’d bought her the drink. The backseat of the car. Wet pavement as she ran away, down the street until she found the basement stairs, and the door, and everything that lay behind it.

That part seemed like a dream, and she would deny it happened, except she was lying between the smooth sheets and the velvety soft pillow of a five-star hotel bed.

And she was still in her dress from last night.

She blew out a sigh of relief.

Good gods, what had she gotten herself into?

Well you can’t stay here in bed all day. Time to go face the mess that is your life.

“But I don’t wanna,” she groaned and coughed. Gods, her throat was dry.

As she got up, she noticed a glass of water on the bedside table. She almost reached for it but stopped at the last moment. She was done accepting drinks from strangers, no matter that her throat felt drier than the Mojave Desert. She yawned and stuck her tongue out as she stretched.

Ugh, her muscles ached like she’d been run over by a truck. And her head hurt. A lot. She groaned as she stumbled out of bed. She headed towards the bathroom adjacent to the room, clawing back the tangled fall of her wheat-colored hair.

How long had she slept? She’d have to look for a clock when she went back to the bedroom. The cool marble of the bathroom stung her tender feet. Squinting over the two sinks—both made out of a striking black marble—she saw the color had returned to her cheeks. She must have slept for a long time.

She yanked hard on the knobs on the bathroom sink so the water blasted and cupped her hands underneath it, and then she drank swallow after swallow.

She washed her face afterwards. The cool water washed her clammy skin clean and by the time she was finished and toweled off her face, she felt marginally better.

Especially when she saw a new toothbrush and tube of toothpaste arranged beside the sink.

“Thank the Fates,” she moaned and grabbed both. She brushed long and hard, not caring if she was taking off the top coat of enamel, she was so determined to wash last night off of her. Especially when she remembered Paul trying to kiss her. Shudder.

A shower was up next.

She felt slightly more human after she finished and stepped out. The headache was dissipating with the more water she drank.

As she toweled off her hair and walked back into the bedroom, she found that someone had left a shopping bag on a chair near the door of the hotel room. The skirt and top she found inside were her size. Along with some underthings. She paused, not sure how to feel about that. Was it considerate, or creepy? Probably considerate seeing as the only other clothing she had was the little black dress she’d gotten at a thrift store for ten dollars. And it wasn’t like she wanted to put dirty underwear back on after her shower.

Was it the man from last night who’d bought her these things?