The Marlow Novels & Stories

I'd deal with everything tomorrow. Tonight I just needed to survive. The first night as Mrs. Marlowe. The first night of three years. The first night of my beautiful cage.

Marrow stood near the long glass table with his back turned toward the entrance, his tall silhouette framed by the enormous windows overlooking the city lights. He did not look surprised when the doors closed behind Lysander and Adrian. In fact, he did not even turn around immediately. Instead he finished pouring a glass of dark wine from a crystal decanter resting on the table, swirling it gently before lifting the glass toward the skyline as though admiring a painting. “You are punctual,” he said calmly. Only then did he turn to face them. The faint smile resting on his lips carried the unsettling calm of a man who had already played several moves ahead in a game no one else fully underst

Marlow pleaded, "She's already gone insane! If you come back with me, I'll make her disappear for good, then we can get married! I was wrong. Believe me, I can't live without you." A trace of emotion finally appeared on Ameera's face, but it was utter disgust. "Marlow, you disgust me." Disgust? Marlow staggered two steps back as if he had been shot in the heart. He was having trouble catching his breath. Ameera had called him disgusting. Tears fell uncontrollably. He looked at Ameera, whose figure had become blurry from his tears, and tried to speak, but no sound would escape his lips.

Dawn came slowly, dragging gray light across a forest that reeked of ash and blood. The fires from the caravan still smoldered, a black scar through the valley. Wolves moved quietly, shoulders heavy, voices muted as though speaking too loudly might tear open wounds they weren’t ready to face. At the center of it all, Marrow’s body lay wrapped in dark cloth, guarded by two warriors who had once trained under him. His absence was already a chasm no one dared to measure.

“Yeah. I need to ask about the time you had Venus tailed. Did your men report anything strange? Anyone else watching her?” I heard the rustle of fabric, a sigh. “No. If they did, they would’ve told me. What’s this about?” “Gerald Marlowe. Ring any bells?” “No.” “You sure?” “Positive. The Marlowes are a name, yeah. But nothing came up about him.” “I think he was stalking her. He showed up in Rome the same week we eloped. He was at that gala. At the club. Always there.” Colton was quiet. Then:

"I can manage, Mr. Wolfie. Just… let me off here." "Miss Marlowe," the way her name rolled off his tongue in a low, deliberate murmur that left no room for argument. "Just tell me where to drop you." She exhaled slowly, the humid air thick with the scent of rain-soaked asphalt and distant city life. The neon lights flickered outside the car window, casting a kaleidoscope of colors onto the dashboard as they raced through the heart of the metropolis. "East Elm Street," she finally said, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of the engine.

“I think it’s just well-written.” They watched the magnolias sway, full and white against the dark. “You remind me of myself,” Marvella said after a moment. “Before I started protecting instead of living.” Ava looked at her gently. “Then maybe you came here to remember.” Marvella smiled, a rare, human smile. “Perhaps I did.” Inside, Marcus and Rory clinked glasses over plans and Theo danced with Mabel to a slow horn on the speaker. Genevieve was telling the dessert like it owed her gossip.

Marlowe International, the premier global hospitality company renowned for luxury hotels and resorts around the world, had been featured in the same magazine I appeared in last month. It finally sank in. “You’re a Marlowe,” I whispered, disbelief and awe lacing my voice. “You actually own this hotel.”

"That's Daniel," Marlowe said with a satisfied smile. "But don't worry, he won't bother that kid again. If I didn't feel like he was rotting meat that would poison me, I'd probably have chewed off one of his legs already." Old Bernard scratched his head, which didn't itch. "I thought you'd gone somewhere," Old Bernard said. "Yes," Marlowe replied cheerfully. "I went into the bushes to change and watch that guy named Daniel wandering around in front of your shop, peeking, then going around and coming back."

They put him in the hall like a rat in a room full of dogs, and he sat down in the good chair without being offered it and crossed his ankles. Sloane stood. "Talk." "No coffee? No. Fine." Marlowe looked around the hall, at the smoke-dark rafters, at forty wolves who all wanted to open his throat. "You know, I've never actually been inside this house. Eleven years of dealing with that man and he always met me at the gate. Like a farmer."