Innocence (5 page)

“Wait,” she struggled to understand, “You took me to the car. You were going to—" She broke off because her informant/stalker/ former-would-be-rapist was shaking his head vigorously.

“There was a plan. They wanted you drugged, scared up, and brought in.” The wheezing around his words was cruel. “I didn’t think you’d run. But it still turned out, all according to plan.”

“Plan,” she said carefully, still holding on to disbelief. She looked up at the man for something dishonest, untrustworthy. All she saw there was a quiet pity, directed towards her.

“Thank you,” she said, and stepped backwards. The newspaper was still in her hands, she held it between them like a shield.

“Believe me,” the man said, looking worried. “I’ve got to go, but I wanted to make sure I told you the truth.”

Cora nodded but didn’t answer. She didn’t feel like she had answers. Just a million more questions. The man wasn’t satisfied.

“He’s dangerous. Don’t trust him. Don’t say yes. Once you’re in, you’re in forever.”

“You should go,” she said, looking at the storefront. A long, black car had just pulled up to the curb. “The boss is here.”  She turned back, but the man had gone. The door to the back was swinging back closed.

Sharo found her there, still clutching the newspaper among the aisles of dog food. “Ready to go?” he asked, looking her up and down.

“I need to change,” she said, fighting the urge to back away. He seemed to sense this, and stayed close, hovering, protective.             

“You can do that at the club.” He turned, stiffening, when the back door opened, but it was only Maeve, frowning for some reason.

“You nearly forgot this,” she said in her low, no nonsense voice, handing over Cora’s rucksack. Sharo held out a hand for it, and Maeve pulled it back out of his reach. The older redhead gave him a level glance. “Excuse me.”

“It’s okay, Maeve,” Cora said. “I trust him.” She blinked suddenly, surprised at how quickly she said those words, wondering if they were lies. She needed to think.

Maeve looked at her with an unhappy expression, but gave Sharo the pack. Cora turned to go, but the man stopped her. He had seen the paper Cora still held.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” he said, and looked at her, black eyes glinting. “He won’t like it. Boss has been looking at it all day.”

Cora handed the paper back to her fellow volunteer. Maeve took it. The redhead looked like she wanted to say something more, but Cora cut her off.

“Good night.” The young woman’s small smile must have helped Maeve hold her thoughts in, but the older woman’s expression was fierce and worried as she watched the two get in the black car and drive away.

*

Cora survived the drive in silence. She was still thinking about what the man had said.
Warn me?
She felt numb, stunned. When Sharo guided her down the steps to the club where she had run to, that night long ago, she did not struggle. A minute later she was alone with a man in his office. Marcus. Mr. Ubeli. The shadows still cut across his face among the mahogany and rich carpet. From the first night nothing had changed.
No, everything has.

“Hey, babe,” he said, and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. With one hand he scrubbed his hair out of his face; the other reached out, calling her towards him. She had planned to be strong, but something in the way he pushed the dark spikes of his hair away from his eyes reminded her of a little boy, up past his bed time. She went to him.

“Long day?” She asked, and he didn’t reply, simply put his hands on her hips and pushed her back so that she was leaning on the desk. His fingers stroked her arms, wrists, hands, and finally, the fine silver chain on her left arm, pushing it and pulling it back. And she let him, remaining still, heart hardly daring to beat, as if even a breath might break the moment.

“I should have done this a long time ago,” he murmured.

“What?” she started to say, and leaned forward to hear the answer, but at that moment he looked up, and caught her mouth on his, and then it was all over. Every thought went out of her head, all but Marcus, Marcus, and he was standing now with his arms around her and body pressing hers over the desk.

“Marcus,” she gasped, when he let her lips. He was still standing close, however, and his arms still held her.

“It shouldn’t have taken me so long. With no other girl, would it have taken me so long.”

“So long to do what?” she asked, her thoughts still swirling.

“This,” he said, and kissed her again. Now she came alive, responding, and her hand came up to stop him but, no, it simply took the plane of his cheek as if she would hold him to her, and then her fingers raked through his hair, her breath coming out in a shudder now that he had let her go again—

“Hey, kid,” he said softly, his hand on her cheek, “you’re crying.”

She was. Her sobs were such that her body was shaking. He folded her into himself, almost lifting her onto his lap, lips still hovering close, him crooning, “Hey, hey.”

The sobs left her, and they kissed again. Then he held her quiet, her head against his chest. She listened for his heart beat again, and soon, realized he was speaking, telling his love to her over and over again.

“I’ll keep you safe, babe, you know it. You won’t ever need a thing, or have to get wise. You’re my goddess, and I won’t let you go—”             

“Marcus,” she sat up, her whole body shuddering in the aftermath of the sobs. He let her lean away from him, to get some distance so she could face him. “I don’t know. I’m not sure of anything.”

“Shhh, shhh. I’m with you. You don’t have to be.”

“But I—”

“I know you’re scared, babe.” The dark eyes never left hers. “But you’re with me. You’re going to be okay. I know that dick turned up again,” his face grew sober. “Sharo saw him in the shop. But babe,” his voice was reassuring, “he won’t ever bother you again.”

Cora could feel the shudders starting to come back; her whole sanity was slipping away. “He won’t?” she whispered.

“No.” Marcus’ face, cut from the dark, held a smile. “Don’t worry, babe. I told you I’d take care of you.”

They rode through the streets to the restaurant. Marcus had his arm around her; he held her close as if afraid of losing her. But she had already escaped, her mind swirling with thoughts—of newspapers with Marcus, of her aunt, of the man who stalked her, of that first long night. She had been drugged, scared, and completely alone. Perhaps she still was.

Once she said, “Marcus—“

“Yeah, kid?” his fingers paused where they were, playing with the strap of her dress and her hair.

“What was happening last night—at the club?”

“You don’t want to know,” he said. She took a deep breath and turned to look at him, forcing herself to wait for an answer even though she could see a glint of anger in his eyes. He took his arm from around her, and she became frightened. After a moment, something like a smile quirked in his mouth, though the coldness didn’t leave his face.

“But you’re my girl, and you’re beautiful, so I’ll tell you.”

She submitted to his kiss, then listened without comment.

“Couple of weeks back two friends of mine decided to go in on a club. They bought the old theater, renamed it, set it up real nice. Big project like that, they needed some help.” He paused as if wondering how much he should share with her. “I helped them.

“But rumors were circling—you know, people talk. Someone thinks something’s up, and the press hooks on it like it’s the only story in town. There were stories going around even before the place opened. Then last night,” a large sigh, “the press showed up.”

She waited a moment after he stopped, then said, “And?”

“They took pictures and jumped to conclusions. They slandered my friends, and tried to shut them down. And, because they can print whatever trash they want, it got smeared on the front page. All my friends wanted to do was open a club. Who’s business is it how they run it? And the stuff they said—drug and dirty money—none of that’s been proven. Those accusations belong in court. To slap it on a front page to sell papers—that’s what’s illegal.”

From where she felt, Cora could feel him getting angrier, though his voice never rose. She could feel it through the small distance between them, waves of cold fury, kept tightly clenched under the suit and silken tie. “It’s one thing to come after me directly. It’s another to use my friends.” He stared forward at the rearview mirror; he and Sharo’s eyes met there.

The car glided through the streets. The windows were thick, keeping out sound, so it seemed silent outside and in. Cora studied Marcus’ face, afraid of what she saw there. He was distant, cold.

Without thinking, she shivered, and with a murmur—“you, okay, babe?”—he put his arm around her, and she rode on with the heavy weight across her shoulders. And, though the questions screamed inside her—
who are you? Are the stories true?
— she found she couldn’t say any more.

So deep was the silence, it took them both a moment to realize the car had stopped.

Then Sharo opened the door and she found herself looking up at a tall building, with many stairs leading up to its large doors.

“Go on,” Marcus pushed her gently, and she dutifully she climbed out.

“Is this the restaurant?” she asked, teeth chattering with the sudden cold wind. Marcus, having stopped to speak with Sharo, came and took her under his arm and coat jacket, ushering her forward.

“Babe, you don’t know the half of it.” Her questions seemed to be forgotten, but he still hovered close. They went up the steps, she close to being carried, it seemed. She could barely see beyond his sheltering arms. Then they were inside.

The humid heat rolled over Cora, lapping at her arms and face like an ocean wave. She relaxed; stopped resisting, walking into the darkness without being afraid. Marcus held back, a smile on his face as he watched her.

“What is this place?” She breathed. A flashlight switched on, and the beam danced: over palms and fern, flowers and green—a whole host of growing things, sheltered in the building of glass.

“A green house!” she said, and he laughed as he came forward to show her around. They traipsed the narrow paths, feeling the beckoning, soft branches, and finding their way through the dark with only a single flashlight.

“I see something up ahead,” she pressed forward, he obligingly following with the light, until they pushed past one great frond and found it: a little table and some wine, lit by a small, flickering candle. Going around her, he pulled out one of the chairs.

“Welcome to paradise, kid.”

Speechless, she sat quiet while he poured the champagne, and took a glass without a word.

“A toast,” he said, “To our new favorite place.”

She couldn’t help it; she laughed. His eyes sparkled over the glass as he drank first. She was still waiting, wide eyed, when he finished. He toyed with his glass before placing it down decisively.

“I told you, babe, I should have done this a long time ago.”

“Done what?” she asked, feeling stupid. He came over to her, and she looked up at him, afraid. He might kiss her again; she wouldn’t know how to tell him to stop, or worse, she would like it.

“When I first saw you, Cora,” he said, “I knew we would be together. Forever.”

Cora was mute. He came near her and cupped her cheek. “So lovely, so innocent. I need you, Cora.” He knelt down before her. “You’re the only woman who’s made me feel this way.” He reached into his pocket, keeping his eyes on hers.

“Marcus?” she started to ask, but then he opened the jewelry box, and she found she couldn’t speak. It was a ring to match the jewelry she already wore.

“Marry me,” he said. He was smiling at her shock.

“Oh, Marcus,” she said, and then her breath was gone; she was mute. Instead, she reached forward to touch the ring. The metal was silver colored, but she knew it would be white gold. There were tiny diamonds, cut to sparkle. But the main gem was red. Mesmerized, she realized he was speaking.

“I almost get you a diamond, a real nice rock. But you look so great with red.” He looked at her suddenly in such a way that she blushed. She leaned back in her chair, away from both him and the ring, hoping she could hide the fear that had pierced through her.

“So?” He prompted, after a moment of silence.

“What if I’m not ready?” She didn’t know where the words came from. Dark fire flashed through Marcus’ eyes, but otherwise he hid his anger well.

“I think you’re ready,” and he stood up, towering over her, until he drew her to her feet. He moved his face close, as if he would kiss her, and she was frozen, watching his lips, “I think you want to say yes.” And he did kiss her, “Say yes,” and whispered while his lips played over her skin, “Say yes.”

It was difficult to breathe. “I need … time.”

“You have as long as you want.” Marcus’ dark eyes were unfathomable. But his lips murmured against her skin, “Just don’t make me wait too long.”

*

Dawn found Cora still awake, standing at her window. When Marcus had dropped her off, she had gone straight to the window, and stayed there all night, without turning on the lights. When the light started to come in, she moved back, staying in darkness. She didn’t want the men watching to see her face, tired after keeping vigil through the night.