Marvin Acme Novels & Stories

It was sleeveless with a base only around her chest and her waist snatched. Frozen, she stuttered an apology and received it. Before I could say anything else, the LEDs blared to life with Marcus all over the place. He was promoting his latest innovation— an electric engine. Marcus and I had been friends since our college days. After graduation, he went on to work a regular job while I tried to create something for myself. He made a decent amount, so he got married and even had a daughter but he was never satisfied with his job. Soon after, he created Monroe Motor Corporation and went on to see exponential success. By this time, my company Stone Corp, was already a million dollar company.

Rafael reached for the truffle sauce. Sidney helped and passed it instead, “Mmm”, he dropped his utensils and took a serviette to wipe his mouth, “I'll try and set up a meeting for you both” Rafael smiled softly and broadly revealing those attractive dimples, “After my trip” “No problem” *** MCCOY ESTATE MANSION GR Motorworks HL Officially: GRM Automotives (Former “Moltara Motorworks Company”) Headquarters in Detroit, United States.

He’d traded New York’s sharp edges for New Zealand’s soft green hills, but the game the real game still whispered in his blood. He poured coffee in his cramped kitchen, scrolling a burner phone for news out of habit. Vane Industries had rebranded twice, now a clean-tech powerhouse under Aiden and Silas’s co-leadership. No scandals. No whispers of the past. Marcus Martin smiled thinly. They thought he was gone. But ghosts don’t stay buried. A knock at the door. Sharp, insistent. He froze. No one knocked in this life. No friends, no family, no loose ends.

Marcus arrived at Palmer Group’s headquarters, stepping out of his trusted BMW X6. While the Palmers equated luxury with status, Marcus preferred to keep a low profile. For him, blending in was a far greater advantage. Inside the company, rumors buzzed. Maximus had ordered that Marcus Bartz be treated with the respect due to a CEO. The confusion was palpable—how could anyone rival Maximus’s position as sole owner and CEO? And now, apparently, someone was about to.

I smirked at him, wondering what he was going to say this time. ““Where are your passes boys? I assume you have a reason to be late, Mr. Marshall?” Mr. Jenkins asked. Obviously, he asked me because I was Alpha of the Crescent Pack. I was leader and I was supposed to take care of all the responsibilities. Oh well, I was only in high school. I’ll let Warren take care of it again. He was the most responsible one. I shook my head and smirked. “Mr. Jenkins, you know I’m not the responsible one.”

He knew that it would be dangerous for him to take any longer time over there. Right now, Aramis looked like a mountain that would erupt at any moment. *** Meanwhile, at MAC Capital Management. "I'm sure they got fire in their pants now." Maximilian Myers handed Alex a glass of whiskey. He was a handsome man with blonde hair and bright blue eyes. With Alex and Caleb Adams, Max was one of the three founders of MAC. "So, Alex. I don't think I need to question your plan, do I? Even though I'm quite doubtful about the funds, you're asking for this bid. Is Airland worth that much?"

Then a hand went up. “It’s y equals mx plus b.” I turned toward the voice. The guy sitting next to me was Hispanic. Sharp jawline. Curly hair. Blue eyes. Arms like tree trunks. “That’s correct,” Mrs. Payne said. “And your name?” “Marcelo,” he replied. “My name is Marcelo.”

As if he’s able to discern the direction my thoughts have taken, he says, “I’m a transplant—or, well, technically, I’m adopted into the pack since rogues destroyed my pack. Alpha Glendon and Luna Cherice allowed the family that I live with to take me in when I was just a pup and raise me as their own.” “I’m Maxon, by the way,” he says, holding out a dirt and blood-covered hand for me to shake. I glance at it with a raised eyebrow, and then back at him. “Oh, shit,” he says with a chuckle as he pulls his hand pack, dropping it to his side, and then wipes it against the leg of his jeans, which aren’t much cleaner than the hand itself. “It’s fine,” I say with a small chuckle of my own. “And my n

Micah shrugs. I giggle. Micah turns and pulls me close against his body. He gives me a mischievous look and begins to waltz. Micah is an amazing dancer. He is good at everything, to be honest. Fighting, schooling, especially maths and science, dancing, cooking. He is perfect at everything he does and perfect in every way. His kind, sweet personality. His face that the Gods must have chiselled themselves. His sable brown eyes which remind me of Autumn. His scent, oh Gods, his scent sends the cauldron inside me bubbling.

she finished and those amber eyes went to the place I was to also remain immobile before my incredulous gaze. “What did you say your name was?” I asked a few decibels above my regular voice. “Oh, Mark! So good you came, you were the only one missing.” I heard the voice of Kristopolis somewhere in the room, but my eyes were still locked with the woman’s who was a few meters from me, noting how pale she went when she heard my name. “Mark?” she said in a whisper. “Yes... Marcus Sanders.” confirmed Paul looking at her with worry eyes “he is the owner of the company and promoter of the campaign that you will develop… Are you okay?”