One
Cora knew the moment her husband came through the grand doors. His power rolled forward, enveloping her.
Standing in the midst of the party, with her back to the entrance, she felt rather than saw him cross the threshold into the ballroom. Her hands immediately started shaking.
Not now. Gods, please, not now.
Along the edges of the gorgeous room, men in black suits took their places quietly, blending in with her serving staff. Marcus’s personal cadre of bodyguards. She recognized them because they’d once guarded her.
The guests mingling near the entrance all turned, the men bowing and women fluttering as they greeted the man who secretly ruled the Underworld of New Olympus. Marcus Ubeli.
It had been two months since she’d seen or spoken to him, beyond the text she’d sent telling him she was leaving him as she fled his Estate. Of course she’d known that wouldn’t be the end of it. This was Marcus Ubeli they were talking about.
She’d spent the last two months laying low, knowing he could come for her at any moment. He hadn’t, though. He’d respected her wishes…
Or it had been some sort of game to him. One she didn’t want to play. She was tired of games. Done with them. Done with him and his world of shadows and violence.
Marcus’s dark head was still barely in the ballroom. He was surrounded by people, couples in tuxes and ballgowns who would pay homage to the King of the Underworld, men with solemn faces who wanted to shake his hand and whisper in his ear. Same as always.
Of course she’d known that eventually they’d run into each other. It was inevitable. She’d tried to brace herself for this moment. She’d gone over it a hundred times in her head. A thousand times.
She thought she’d be ready.
She’d been wrong. So, so wrong.
Marcus raised his head. His storm colored eyes swept over the crowded room. He was still surrounded by people, but he hadn’t forgotten her.
He’d never forget. He was on the hunt.
Goosebumps rose all over her skin and her heart raced. He was more gorgeous than ever and even a ballroom away, she could feel the wash of power that always preceded his intimidating presence.
Get out. She had to get out of here now.
She glanced around, feeling frantic as she looked for an escape. But she was surrounded on all sides by beautiful, glittering people who were all but caging her in between the giant bouquets of peacock feathers and tables laden with crab and puff pastries.
Armand had opened another spa, and, to celebrate, talked one of his many admirers into opening their house for the extravaganza. The party was totally lush. He’d told Cora to spare no expense and she hadn’t. But now the excess was completely screwing with her need for a quick escape.
There was the staircase on the far side of the ballroom; she could probably wind her way through the partiers to get there…but it would leave her exposed. Marcus might be able to approach her before she could get away. Still, she had to try. She couldn’t stand here like a lamb waiting for the slaughter.
She looked up at the tall guest in a white tux who’d been talking to her. “I’m sorry,” she interrupted him, having no idea what he’d been saying.
She’d passed off the behind-the-scenes responsibilities to Sasha, her assistant, about an hour ago and had been out among the guests ever since, at Armand’s insistence.
The tall black man smiled, showing perfect white teeth. He was bald and cut an unusual figure in the party. He reminded her of Sharo, the dangerous underboss in her husband’s business.
“No apologies necessary,” the man said in a light tenor voice that belied his height. “I’ve been babbling far too long. I was excited to meet the woman who made all this happen.” He frowned down at her in concern. “Are you cold?”
“No.” Cora wanted to rub her arms to quell the goosebumps but instead lifted her hand self-consciously to her hair. Did she look as harried as she felt? Her hair was a shade lighter than it had been two months ago, worked into an intricate braid around her head. Would Marcus like it? She wanted to kick herself the second she had the thought, but still couldn’t shake it.
Tendrils were already escaping around her face. Her fingers smoothed them back, and drifted to her ears. She was wearing the diamond earrings Marcus had given her. The studs hadn’t seen the light of day for two months, but Armand had given her the dress and she’d wanted something to match.
Of course, she’d picked the one night Marcus showed up and would see her wearing his gift. Sighing, she pressed her hand to her temple. At least she wasn’t still wearing her wedding ring.
“You sure you’re alright?” the guest in white asked.
On the far side of the ballroom, the DJ on the dais started a song the crowd recognized. A flock of the younger crowd rushed past, knocking Cora into the giant man. His large dark hands reached out to steady her.
Cora smiled weakly as she looked up into the guest’s concerned eyes and tried to remember his name.
“Philip Waters!” Armand swooped in, looking dashing in a black velvet tux that contrasted nicely with his dancing black eyes and swarthy skin. “So glad you could come to our party.” The boyish designer and spa owner threw his arm around Cora, cutting off her escape. “Are you enjoying it?”
“I am, thank you,” Philip rumbled. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been to a party off ship.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right one. Cora helped pull it off.” Armand squeezed her. “Have you heard of her new event planning company? She just started it. It’s called Perceptions. A lovely name, if I say so myself.”
Cora resisted rolling her eyes. Armand had thought up the name. He’d also called her up weeks ago and strong-armed her into starting the business, helping her file the right paperwork, and loaning her a generous amount of start-up capital.
“Tonight’s her inaugural event,” Armand was telling Philip Waters.
“Is it?” Philip rumbled, his eyes crinkling as he looked down at her. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” Cora forced a smile. She was happy, she really was.
Or maybe not happy. Content. Happiness was a lie. It seemed to her that everyone was simply trying to get by the best they could. So she did, too. And she stayed busy. That was key. When she was busy, she didn’t have time to think. Which was why this event had been perfect.
She barely slept the past week and had almost had a heart attack when the caterers tried to change the menu on her at the last moment. But she’d called around to every fish market in the area and gotten them enough fresh salmon to make their piccata bites right in time. And then she had to fight with the florists to get the arrangements she wanted even though they’d agreed a week ago—
Cora shook her head to clear her thoughts. “I should probably check on the buffet…”
She started to pull away but Armand shook his head. “Cora, darling, the buffet is fine. Quit acting like Cinderella and enjoy the ball. Champagne!”
A waitress wearing little more than a purple bikini and headdress of peacock feathers sashayed by and offered her tray out to them. Cora had a glass pressed into her hand before she could protest.
“A toast—” Armand hesitated.