My ears perked up at the sound of Marlon’s voice. A second later a heavy arm swung around my neck, yanking my head towards a hard chest decked in a bomber jacket and loose grunge tank top.
“Don’t, I’m sweaty,” I protested.
Marlon merely laughed as he drove his knuckles into my hair hard, teasing me like always. He had already forgotten about last night.
Figured.
He looked up and jerked his chin at Dylan. “Marlon da Silva.”
Dylan nodded back. “Dylan Cole.” He eyed Marlon’s arm around my neck with a raised eyebrow. “So you guys are…together?”
My face and neck heated immediately. “No, we’re—”
“We’re soulmates,” Marlon said solemnly.
I elbowed him so hard in the side that he let go of me with an oof.
“We’re just friends,” I told Dylan firmly. Then I swung a narrowed look at Marlon. “What are you doing here? You never wake before six. In the evening.”
Marlon folded his arms and grinned at me. “I happened to be up early today, so I decided to pay my favorite servant a visit.”
I believed that like I believed the earth was flat. Marlon was obviously here to spy on the mystery guy I was supposedly in love with.
It’s you, you idiot. You and the way you smile and tease and drive me crazy.
Marlon turned a cool gaze onto Dylan. “So you’re Emma’s student,” he said. “How long have you known her?”
To anyone looking on, Marlon looked just like your everyday, mind-numbingly hot hunk with a strangely aloof attitude.
But I knew him. For some reason, he was not in a good mood, and he might as well be waving a loaded gun in the air.
“Be nice,” I warned under my breath.
Dylan grinned at Marlon’s question while rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, just over two months. I’m attending her MMA and self-defence classes.”
Marlon nodded slowly, appearing to consider that.
Then suddenly, without any warning at all, he drew his fist and massive shoulder back.
My eyes widened in alarm.
Before I could blink, Marlon had thrown a vicious right hook straight for Dylan’s face.
Dylan dodged at the last second, but not before Marlon’s fist clipped his ear.
Hard.
Dylan’s wide-eyed, stunned expression matched the one on my face. “What the fuck?” he snapped.
And I wanted to tear at my freaking hair. “Jesus, what the hell are you doing!”
Marlon smiled pleasantly, as if he hadn’t just tried to KO a complete stranger.
“You don’t need self-defence lessons, amigo,” he told Dylan. “We both know that.”
Dylan was speechless as he stared at Marlon like he was some species he had never seen before.
“I’m so sorry,” I quickly said. “And he’s sorry too. Aren’t you?” I growled at Marlon.
“Nope. Come on, let’s get you to your class.” Marlon hooked his arm around my neck again, turning his back on the pissed off footballer who looked like he was about to start a fight.
Oh god, please don’t. I wasn’t worried about Marlon since he could hold his own, but this could cost me my part-time job.
Marlon looked completely carefree as he chivalrously escorted me the whole ten yards to the boxing ring that served as a makeshift stage for my lessons.
“Whatever you’re up to,” I hissed as we walked, “stop. Right fucking now. You can’t just come in here and attack my students.”
“Relax. I was just testing him, and he did okay.” Marlon chucked me under my chin, his hazel-green eyes twinkling. “I knew you were a great teacher.”
Fun fact, there were eyes out there that could twinkle. I didn’t believe it until I met Marlon.
“Nice try buttering me up,” I warned. “If you do anything funny again, I’m really gonna hit you.”
Marlon’s smile turned seductive, sending heat straight between my legs. “Are you trying to turn me on again, Emmaline?”
I tried not to notice that he used the word ‘again’, nor that his fingers were dangling just over my right boob. “Last warning, Marlon.”
“Tell me who your guy is, and I’ll stop flirting with you.”
“Ugh. Not a chance.” I threw his arm off and rolled under the ropes into boxing ring, trying to get my racing heart under control.
Instead of leaving like I wanted him to, Marlon strolled to the side of the gym.
And naturally, he picked the side with the windows, lounging in an incoming sunray like it was his own personal spotlight.
I squinted at him. Didn’t he have his club to manage, pasty-faced businessmen to fuck with?
“Go away,” I mouthed.
Marlon smiled and shook his head slowly. He pointed two fingers at his eyes, and pointed them at me.
Then he lowered his gaze and burned a slow, appreciative caress down my body.
Ass. Exasperating, sex-on-a-stick, ass.
My face heated as I gave him my back.
My twenty pupils filtered in for their class over the next five minutes, dumping their bags and laptops in the gym lockers and spreading out at the base of the boxing ring.
All of them were girls except for Dylan, and a good number of them were openly ogling the college football star and his admittedly impressive pecs under his muscle t-shirt.
And now there was the added distraction of Marlon, who was leaning against a window with his arms folded and his legs idly crossed at the ankles, doing a spot-on impersonation of a streetwear fashion model who had wandered into the wrong set. The sunlight highlighted his dark curls and piercing hazel eyes, making him look like a Greek god in designer sweats and kicks.
The Greek god of narcissism, no less, because he was clearly aware of the coy looks he was getting from the girls. The guy was practically bathing in the attention like a cat in the sun.
I felt that familiar pang in my chest again. You’d think that after so many years, the Marlon-shaped wound there would have become a callus.
I wish. Every flirtatious thing he did just bore another hole in my heart that probably looked like Swiss cheese by now.
I tore my gaze away from Marlon and clapped my hands to get attention from the class.
We did our warm ups as usual, and then I moved on to demonstrate how to throw off a larger opponent. I usually got Dylan to help, since he was easily the biggest in the class.
“For this demo, I’ll need…” I trailed off when I saw movement at the corner of my eye.
I turned to Marlon, who had straightened to give me an arch look. His meaning was unmistakable.
I looked back at Dylan, who was already preparing to come up to the boxing ring.
My answer was clear.
God, I was weak.
Resignedly, I nodded my chin at Marlon. He jogged up to the ring while shooting a wink at Dylan, who returned with a cold stare.
Before you think that Marlon was jealous of Dylan, he wasn’t. Marlon’s competitive streak was miles wide, and he simply liked coming out on top in everything, even in situations like these that meant absolutely jack.
“This is called the armbar from a closed guard,” I told the class. “It’s one of the first moves you learn in BJJ, and a great technique to throw off a larger, unarmed opponent who has you pinned on the ground.”
I got on my back in the boxing ring and nodded at Marlon, who already knew what to do since he had a background in BJJ.
He got on his knees and settled between my thighs. I wrapped my legs around his waist and looked up at him.
And the moment I did, I realized that this was the exact view I would see if Marlon and I ever slept together.
I swallowed audibly.
“You look good from here, Emmaline,” Marlon murmured in a low voice, for my ears only.
It brought back memories of last night, of him sucking on my neck and talking in that low, dirty accent—
Focus.
I turned to fa
ce the students below the boxing ring. “If your opponent has you on the ground like this, one thing he would try is immobilize your arms.”
Marlon took my wrists firmly and pinned them over my head. His tattooed biceps bunched with the motion, and my throat went completely dry.
“You okay?” he asked softly, mistaking my wide eyes for alarm.
But I wasn’t afraid. I knew that Marlon would never hurt me—not physically, at least. The kind of scars he left were invisible, crisscrossed all over my heart.
“In such a situation,” I addressed the class, “your legs are your best friends. His hands are occupied, so you spin on your back—” I demonstrated, “—and you grab his head under your knee like this.” I demonstrated again.
Marlon’s jaw tightened as I clamped my leg around his neck extra hard, trapping him between my thigh and calf.
“Then you squeeze as hard as you can…”
Marlon coughed.
“At this point, your opponent would let go of your hands to pry your leg from his neck, so take the chance to attack his weak points while shielding your face. My suggestion is to go for the eyes, or shove your fingers up his nostrils.”
“Fuck, that’s not BJJ,” Marlon growled, digging his fingers into my thigh.
“Nope, but it’s self-defence.” I released him, and he sat back to massage the back of his neck, narrowing his eyes at me.
“50-50,” I whispered, pushing to my feet. “That’s for disrupting my class.”
A warning gleam flashed across Marlon’s eyes.
Oh, shit.
Before I could react, Marlon shot up and tackled my waist with all two hundred pounds of him.
My world upended as he flipped me to the ground as easily as if I was a ragdoll. The breath was forced from my lungs, and I was suddenly looking up at the white-washed ceiling of the gym.
Marlon’s smug grin came into view.
“51-50,” he mocked, pinning me under his heavy body. “Don’t get cocky, Emmaline.”
Marlon had guessed right last night. I was turned on whenever he overpowered me. His style was efficient and clean like mine was, but he was also bigger and stronger than me, made completely of pure lean muscle.
But one thing he didn’t mention—overpowering me aroused Marlon too.
His erection pressed against the inside of my thigh, big and hard and thick. His faint smile hovered close to my lips, sending every nerve in my body into hyper-awareness.
This had to be the worst possible time for me to be turned on. I had a whole class of scandalized undergrads watching us.
I scowled and shoved Marlon off.
“As you can see, don’t let your guard down around your opponent,” I said shortly. “If you have the chance, go straight for his balls and twist. Hard.”
Marlon merely grinned and winked at my threat.
Instead of leaving the boxing ring, he strolled to the side and sat with his elbows propped on his knees, watching me like a guard dog for the rest of the lesson.
At the end of the class, I took a quick shower and changed into a clean t-shirt and jeans, pulling on a windbreaker to keep warm for when I left the gym later.
Dylan came over as I was keeping my stuff. “Hey, that was a great lesson.”
I warmed at his compliment.
Why couldn’t I have fallen for someone like Dylan? A nice, safe southern boy who didn’t call soccer football like Marlon did. A guy with neat blond hair, not unruly dark curls that made me want to grab them and pull his head down to mine.
“Thanks. And about earlier…” I cleared my throat. “Marlon didn’t mean that. He just likes to mess around.”
Dylan raised an eyebrow. “He wasn’t messing around. That hit would have knocked me out.”
I know. I grimaced. “I’ll speak with him. I’m so sorry.”
“Nah, you don’t have to apologize for him.” Dylan grinned and thrust his fingers into his hair, tugging at the short locks. “So where’re you headed now? I’m gonna grab a bite before class, was thinking we could do lunch together.”
I blinked, surprised at the invitation. “Sure—”
On cue, Marlon smoothly took his place beside me like a hovering wraith. “No can do. We have places to be.”
I exhaled, looking up for patience. “No, we don’t.”
“Yes, we do.” Marlon pulled up the sleeve of his jacket and made a big show of checking his watch.
Except that he wasn’t wearing a watch.
“In fact, we need to leave right now,” he continued cheerfully, meeting my death glare with a pleasant smile. “I have a job for you tonight, and you should start getting ready.”
“You better not be shitting me,” I mumbled. Then I turned to Dylan with an apologetic look. “Maybe next time?”
Dylan nodded once, his jaw tight. Marlon had obviously pissed him off again, but he was trying not to show it. “Sure. Yeah.”
Without acknowledging Dylan’s presence, Marlon slung his arm around my neck and strolled off with me.
“Dude, you were so fucking rude back there,” I hissed once we were out of the gym and out in the crisp October air. “I had to apologize for you. Twice.”
Marlon gave me a quizzical look. “I’m not a good guy, I thought you knew that.”
“I didn’t say you were good, only that you’re usually polite. You’re the kind to smile even while stabbing someone to death, so what’s up with that?”
Marlon shrugged, looking back ahead. “Maybe I’m just not in a polite mood today.”
“No kidding,” I scoffed. “Are you jealous or something?”
His eyebrows snapped together like I’d just said the most ridiculous thing ever. “Jealous? Emmaline, I’m the most unjealous person in the world.”
“Is there even such word?” I squinted, watching him in growing surprise. “I can’t believe it. I do think you’re jealous.”
“I’m not,” he drawled.
“You so are!” I slung my arm around his waist and bumped his hip with mine. “Admit it, you thought I was going to replace you with a hot new BFF. Want some peanut butter with that jelly?”
“I have no clue what you just said, chica.”
Marlon reached inside his jacket with his free hand and withdrew my favorite scarf that Mama had knitted for me when I first moved to Manhattan. He deftly wrapped the maroon wool around my neck, taking care to cover every inch of exposed skin.
I warmed at his gesture. “Thanks. How did you know I’d be cold?”
“Lucky guess.” Marlon turned back ahead again. “So it’s him? Dylan Cole.”
We strolled through the college campus, weaving past the students heading for their classes. With Marlon’s heavy arm over my shoulders and mine around his waist, I could almost imagine that we were a couple instead of just friends.
Maybe I could pretend, if only for a while.
“No.” I leaned my head against his sturdy shoulder. “But you already know that.”
Some of the tension left Marlon’s muscles. “Yeah, you don’t look at him that way.”
“What way?”
“When a woman loves a man, you can see it in the way she looks at him,” Marlon told me as we walked. “Her eyes get brighter, and her smile becomes more beautiful.”
“Dude, that’s so cheesy. And you say I’m the romantic.”
“You are, even though you try and hide it. You’ve loved someone for years.” His hand leisurely ran through my hair, playing with the longer locks at the top.
I looked up at him, gazing at his profile. “You sound envious of me,” I said quietly.
Marlon shrugged. “I’ve been in love many times, but never that long. The feeling always fades after a few months.”
Seventy days, to be exact.
That was his record—I kept track of every single fling.
“What is it like?” he asked thoughtfully.
I kept my tone light. “To be in love for so long, or to not be loved back?
“B
oth.”
We strolled towards a bench in the sprawling campus garden that overlooked the castle-like spires of the university. The lawn was so vast that several groups of students shared the space comfortably, reading or playing Frisbee.
“It sucks,” I said as we sat down on the bench. “It’s the worst thing that has ever happened to me.”
Marlon tightened his arm around me. “Do you wish you didn’t love him?”
“No. I don’t.”
“Why not?”
I leaned my forehead against his neck as I considered his question. Even though loving Marlon hurt like nothing else did—and I was no stranger to pain during my time at the academy—I wouldn’t give it up.
“Because I want him to be loved,” I finally said.
Marlon was quiet for a long moment. He rested his head against mine, idly sifting his fingers through my hair.
“You’re right,” he mused. “Maybe I am jealous.”
I drew back in surprise, but Marlon only gave me a faint, unreadable smile.
His strong eyebrows and thick eyelashes were darker under the noonday sun, and his hazel irises glowed nearly green. The black band around them made them look like two piercing gemstones.
He was so beautiful it hurt just to look at him.
“The moment I see you give that look to a man I’ll know it’s him,” he murmured, brushing my hair back from my forehead. “You might as well tell me now. The man you love, Em. Who is he?”
I forced a smile, even though my face felt like cracking like a porcelain doll’s.
“Keep waiting, pretty boy,” I said lightly. “I’ll never tell.”
What comes out top in this world?
Depending on who you ask, you may get the answer that it’s money, or power, or connections.
The answer is Knowledge.
Knowledge gets you money and power and connections, and he who holds information is king. I made it my business to know everything about everyone, and that was what put da Silva Realty on the fast track to the top circles in Manhattan.
But for some reason, I just couldn’t get a single bit of info out of this girl.
I narrowed my eyes at Emma’s back. She was seated on the floor of her modified surveillance van, blissfully unaware of how bothered I was as she tapped away at the computer on her mini desk.
Untamed (New York Heirs #1.5) Page 4