Marcel Gerard Novels & Stories

Mr Valentino whom they were here to meet sat on a sofa with a glass of expensive wine in his hands, he got up his seat when he sighted them, welcoming them with an handshake. He was in his fourties with brown hairs slicked to the back. He had a grey suit on. One man who'd looked like his excort stood behind him clad in black from head to toe. "Benvenuti, signori. Andiamo al sodo." Marcellus spoke when they all sat down. "Signor Marcel, non ci vediamo da molto tempo. Sono arrivato dopo aver ricevuto la tua proposta dalla signorina Shannon." He replied politely.

Main branch: Marcel Delacourt, Viale Maria Cristina di savoia 16 Pontasserchio, Pisa, Italy. So he is an Italian guy.

, he knew I was checking him out. “You seem to find me really attractive Renee.” He teased. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I just remembered you didn’t tell me your name, I’m getting tired of calling you Military guy.” I lied, succeeding in changing the topic. He chuckled, “you are right. My name is Marcelo .” I furrowed my brows, “Marcelo?, that sounds like French.” He nodded, “it’s because I’m from France, well my mother is Italian, but my father is french.”

Marcel suggested “That’d make me look like I do not know what I am doing or what I want” I reasoned still continuing the conversation even though I wanted to end it. “Look Marcel, let’s end this here, I’d come up with something” I said trying to discard him. “Fine then” Marcel let out defeatedly, “Call me if you need me to invite her over, I will gladly do so” he ended. “Oh and Gertrude said she’d be here in the evening so get ready” he shouted leaving me at the poolside.

"Mango told Tessa's matters to Genevie with a smile as if it was some funny gossips. In the end, she said, ""Oh, that's right, this woman actually has the same surname as the Soo family. Her name is Tessa. It seems that the man she married back then was an aristocrat, who is known as Marcelo. He is really a sc*mbag.""" Genevieve frowned slightly as she listened quietly. "Well, I called just to tell you about this interesting thing that I've come across. Did you just wake up?"

her eyes narrowed with incredulity, a scoff escaping her lips at that moment. “I have been trying to get across to you since that day, and it has been very difficult without my father or brother's help,” his remorseful eyes mirrored his desperation, “I am truly sorry, and I know that I have been the worst. I have been a dirtbag and I agree. I know I was out of line, acting in a crude manner to a dignified lady like you which I regret deeply,” Marcel's head bowed slightly in humility as he spoke. She knew he had been coming over and over but ordered that he was never allowed entry, and even instructed his emails to be discarded. He seemed determined though.

A face burns brightly in my head, because I know just the person. Marcus Gerard, a man known outside Vieuti for revealing secrets that their owners would rather keep concealed. I know from whispers that he has worked for some of the city's elite with a notable skill for staying in the shadows while doing so, his name mentioned only in a certain circle. Seeing that I know few better, I decide that if anyone could look into Vincent's schemes without raising suspicion, he could. He seems the best option for me.

replied Marcel “oh, sorry. My name is Kim and the dude with me is Bradley” Kim, a girl of average height with a good looking face and pony tail hair, she was wearing Jean trousers and a black shirt with the words ‘bitch' written on it, Marcel stared a bit longer on her chest area before he looked away so as not to be seen as a pervert Marcel looked at the man called Bradley, he could tell by his bald head and cold stare that he wasn’t much of a talker, Bradley was wearing some faded Jean’s and black T-shirt with his arms folded. ‘he could pass for a biker gang dude' thought Marcel

Marcel’s POV “Time waits for no one, Marcel…” His finger tapped softly on his wheelchair, his eyes squinted as he stared at me keenly. “You need an heir…” “I am working towards it—” He burst into a long throaty laughter. “Work? Never thought that was a chore. Get over that girl, she’s gone. Stop going to fucking France when you need to calm your head… everything makes you weak and unfit for the next line of Storms groups that would come to you.”

I didn't want to ask him what it was about so I wouldn't come off as rude but when he started vocalising his multiple 'what the hecks and what the fuck' I just had to come in. "What's wrong Frank?" I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. "It's strange but it's an email from a verified Marcello brand." He said. "I don't understand." "Marcello is one of the biggest and oldest names in the fashion industry and for some reason, according to this email, I'm Marcello's biological son and he wants to meet with me as soon as today if I can make that happen."