Markus Murphy Novels & Stories

I walked into the cozy room full of computers and took my seat at my gaming chair. I started working on my writing project in which I wrote about a person named Mark who wanted to belong in his new job but he couldn’t be himself in order to fit in. I was on page ninety-three and was really close to reaching the climax which was about Mark who finally snaps and realizes that he needs to stop acting this way, or he would be miserable. As I write, I feel someone walk in the room. I ignored it at first and kept writing. I then felt a touch on the shoulder and I turned to see who it was. It's Marcelo.

Today I will get married to the man I hate so much. The man who is known to be the most successful Businessman of New York .... James Russo…. The knock on the door made my tears halt and I quickly wiped them. Mason Ronaldo, my father, my seller, the reason why I sold my soul to devil, entered the room and tears welled up my eyes again. I wonder if mum was alive would she have let my father and brother emotionally blackmail me to marrying….. “Daughter, you look so beautiful....so so beautiful that it feels as if a angel has descended from the heavens” Je complemented as he moved my way and kissed me on my forehead.

I look at him from head to toe and somehow, I can feel that I saw him before, I just can't remember when and where was it. While thinking deep he then turn around and smiled at me. "I am Markus Alurious, Alpha of the rogues." He said. Shit!!! This is really a big shit!!!!

Then she crawled back to me, pulling me into her arms. “It’s over,” she whispered. “It’s over, Myles. We’re safe now…” But then.. A laugh, Low and Wet interrupted us and I looked up with my stomach dropping. Murphy! He was on his feet again, swaying with blood pouring from his back but his hand still gripped the pistol, shaking with his finger curled around the trigger. His grin split his broken face. “Not… fucking… over.” Before he could finish, another voice thundered..

I wrinkled my nose at their answers. "So, what're your thoughts? Darien…" June pointed to the creep himself as he laughed with some guys from the cabin he’s in charge of. " Marcus…" she smirked, pointing to Marcus, who was tuning a guitar. "Or the ever-mysterious Mister Logan,” she sighed, pointing to Logan. I'm sure if this was a cartoon, my jaw would have comically hit the ground. Logan had taken off his shirt while he swung an ax, chopping firewood. Thick dark brown hairs covered Logan’s chest just as I had glimpsed this morning.

Against the back of the wall stood a huge choir. Suddenly, a young man, maybe 20, with long, flowing black hair, dressed in a tux, strutted proudly onto the stage. He cut right through the aisle of performers, heading for the center. As he did, the entire audience rose to its feet and applauded. “Who’s he?” I asked. He reached the center and bowed repeatedly, smiling. Even from up here, I could see that he was startlingly attractive. “Sergei Rakov,” Jonah answered. “He’s one of the best vocalists in the world.”

Though the more terrifying thought- perhaps I was just doing better? It had been a while since I had been to a club myself. Perhaps I could do this with three birds and one stone instead. Perhaps I could get my d*ck wet while also being lectured and getting my questions answered. I found myself growing eager for tonight's events. While I wasn't exactly looking forward to my brother scolding me. I was looking forward to finding a hot new mark. I like to think of my conquests as marks. Similar to a hitman. I find the person I want, then make them want to come with me. I've never been denied once. I have fame and good looks to thank for that. I know I probably come off as being vain, but in act

“If you’ve got something to say, Markus, say it.” “I’m saying,” he said, lowering his voice like this was some big secret, “you’re in a prime position. Don’t let personal… attachments interfere with your game.” My jaw tightened. “You mean Tyler.” Markus didn’t confirm, but his silence was loud enough. “You don’t know anything about me and Tyler,” I said flatly. “I know you’re talented,” Markus said, still wearing that infuriating calm expression. “And I know the higher your profile gets, the more people will be watching. The more they’ll dig. And not everyone will be… understanding.”

"I feel stupid for trusting him and if I ever get out of this place I'm going to make him suffer." He nodded quietly. "What did you say was his name again?" He asked curiously. "Lain navier edevane." The mere mention of Lain's name made his eyes light up with excitement. "Do you know him?" "Not really but I've heard of him and I've got a score to settle with him." He offered me his hand. "My name is Tate Banos." I grasped his hand. "Freya Allan." I had a feeling that Tate and I were going to become very good friends.

I knew it’d destroy me and I couldn’t stumble more than once with the same stone, because, though I was now a professional and mature man, I knew the fall would be even more painful than eleven years ago, and I doubted I’ll be able to recover if Olivia took me again as a game. The meeting lasted forty-five minutes. They were determining the medias where the campaign would be exposed, the costs and budgets, dates of auditions for actors that will be starring the commercials and all those things, when my phone rang and it showed me the name of Alex, the head of my security. I knew wouldn’t like this conversation. “Mark, I need you to come to Las Vegas right now.” There was never a greeting wit