Romans & histoires Marc X Nathaniel

"Do you think he might be working with Anderson?" "It won't be surprising if he is," Nathaniel said to Gabriel as they had all turned towards the man who was still wearing a smile that especially sickened Chloe. "What could he possibly be looking for here? Searching for evidence?" Amir asked, anger evident in his voice. "Who knows?" Nathaniel pocketed his hands and had his eyes trained almost dangerously on the man. “It is so good to run into each other this way,” Markings excitedly said, his shoes doing a good job of announcing his presence even more. “Don’t you feel like the universe is trying to tell us something?”

“Nicholas Spark.” “What?” I asked coming out of my lethargy. “Yeah... That’s the only logical answer I can give to you.” Eli said with a thoughtful look. “About what?” Now besides my nerves, I was also confused, because in one hand, there was the fact that I had slept with Mark, my Mark! And on the other one was my friend with her ramblings about writers. “That beef of a man who did a better scene than those girls on America's Next Top Model was the Mark of your teenage years?”

“Of course.” “About… Alexandro.” Martha’s hands slowed for a moment, but she didn’t stop. “What about him?” “His marriage,” Nivera said. “His wife. What do you know about her?” Martha finally turned to face her. “Why?” “I think… I think I saw her.” Martha’s brows lifted. “I was at the river. She was on the other side. Watching me,” Nivera whispered, her voice barely audible. “I didn’t expect anyone to be there. And when I surfaced… I saw her face. She looked surprised. But not afraid.”

Jace says closing his laptop and heading toward the door. “I get it, thanks, man, Tell Chrissy I say Hi” I'd be lying if I said seeing a she-wolf come under assault didn't make me think about Audrie...she wasn't my mate or not that I knew. We'll see when her birthday rolls around. He nods and heads out. I decide to follow his lead and call it a night too. *** Mother Selene, this guy was a creep. He has spent more time staring at she-wolf asses than anything, his personality sucked, and to top it off, following around an accountant was mind-numbingly boring. Math was not anything resembling fun for me.

Marcus didn't interrupt,he never did instead he simply waited. “I don't even know why I'm crying anymore,” I whispered. “Is it because Nathaniel thinks I'm having an affair? Or because after everything... after everything he's done... it still hurts that he'd rather believe the worst of me than ask me the truth.” Marcus looked down at the blanket covering his legs. “It isn't about trust.” “What do you mean?” I asked. “Nathaniel doesn't know how to trust,” Marcus said quietly. “He spent two years convincing himself you didn't matter but the second he thought someone else might love you... he couldn't stand it.”

In a way that was almost worse. Nathalia was cross-referencing a vendor contract at eleven fifteen when Nathan Cross appeared at her desk. Not unusual — Nathan came to the floor regularly, moved through it with the quiet authority of someone who existed slightly outside the normal hierarchy, spoke to her when he needed something and otherwise didn't. She'd developed a working respect for him. He was precise and unsentimental and she understood both of those things. He sat down in Marcus's chair the chair she'd started thinking of as Marcus's chair — and looked at her with an expression that had something careful in it.

Nathaniel's POV Dana found me in the office at seven the next morning with the particular expression she reserves for news she has already decided I won't like. "Marcus had breakfast with Halloran yesterday," she said, setting a folder on my desk that was, I noted grimly, becoming the week's theme. "And dinner with Chen the night before that. Two board members in two days is not a coincidence, Nathaniel. It's a campaign." "Using the marriage story."

The man obeyed quickly, pulled the wallet from the man’s pocket, and handed it over. Nathan snatched it and flipped it open. His eyes narrowed. “Tom Xander,” he read aloud. “Occupation: Artist.” He turned slowly to Marcel. “I thought your man said this is the bastard’s address, yeah?” His voice was controlled but laced with anger. Marcel stepped closer, confused. “That’s what he said. Look—” He pulled out his phone and showed Nathan the photo the investigator had sent. “See? It’s the same man!”

"I'm a busy man. I don't have time to hesitate with you like this. Hurry up and make your decision. You might be able to wait, but Mr. Nathan can't." Marc was devastated. At last, he made his decision. He was about to put his signature down when he heard a fierce and deep voice that shouted, "Hold up!" That voice resounded like a church bell ringing in a quiet cathedral, giving him a wake-up call.

However, he did not show his displeasure. Mr. Nathaniel replied grimly, “I didn’t expect Eric to be affiliated with Mark Tremont. Moreover, they’re good friends. Mark’s wife is a designer in the company as well. I’ve miscalculated this time. I don’t know if he’s trying to trick us, but if it’s true, we can forget about establishing a connection with Mark.”