Photo!
Ava looked obviously stunned as her lips went white. "She seems to have been knocked out," she muttered.
"Who declared her to be unconscious?" Emma took two steps forward, her voice full of envy. "Youth is bliss; you can go to sleep right away."
Ava:...
Supervisor:...
Models:...
Softly, Ava Brown said, "Marcus... "She's a girl, brother Marcus..."
"I'm not a gentleman." Marcus approached Ava and looked her up and down with a cold, icy gaze. "I don't discriminate between hitting men and women, so you better behave yourself," he said.
His tone conveyed a clear warning, and Ava felt a shiver run down her spine, understanding the implication.
She helped Daniel out the door with feebleness, not even daring to say another word.
The manager shut the door behind them as soon as they exited the VIP area.
Ava watched through the gap that was slowly closing as Marcus approached Emma and gently brushed the stray hair away from her face.
How unjust!
Emma, that illegitimate daughter, what right has she?
The door to the VIP room shut entirely. With her fingers clenched firmly together, Ava looked away.
Emma's mother was no match for her own mother more than twenty years ago.
Emma, don't even consider yourself victorious over her!
-
Marcus said, "Usually you don't let me get close, yet outside you let others bully you," as he tucked the stray hair behind Emma's ear.
"Weren't you too rough just now?" asked Emma as she stepped back.
She had wanted to strike the girl herself, but Marcus's strikes were always too strong. Emma feared Daniel would suffer a concussion.
"I believe I treated her leniently." Marcus crossed his long legs and sat down on the sofa.
"Young Master Marcus," the manager promptly brought over a cup of tea.
After taking a sip of the tea, Marcus looked at Emma, who appeared to be considering speaking. "For what purpose are you standing there? It's getting late, go change."
Emma had wanted to tell him, the next time, to stay out of her business.
But he had just given her a fighting chance.
She would come across as ungrateful if she said it now.
Ultimately, she believed Marcus had handled everything flawlessly, despite his occasional overbearing behavior.
Emma chose a dress at random, and the manager followed her into the changing room without saying anything else.
Marcus went to get dressed in a formal suit as well.
Emma's dress was the same color as his formal suit, which was silver-white.
He changed, then settled back into the sofa to see what time it was.
"This dress looks amazing on Miss Emma! It's so beautiful!" The manager let out a loud exclamation.
Marcus looked up on instinct.
Emma had finished getting dressed.
Emma's tall, slim figure was emphasized by the mermaid dress, which appeared to be custom-made for her.
Tiny, flickering silver fish scales from her delicate waist to the skirt's hem.
showcasing her attractive derriere and slender waist.
"Is the fit too snug?" Emma asked her neighboring model.
The model shook her head and grinned, "No, not at all. Your proportions are ideal, and this set is the ideal fit for your temperament."
"Is that accurate?" Emma gripped the skirt tightly.
She moved closer, slowly, under Marcus's gaze.
Inside the VIP room, the light glistened faintly and fell on tiny scales.
She resembled the most stunning mermaid in the deep sea, dancing the transparent water with her tail and adding color and sound as she interacted with light and shadow.
Thumps and thumps!
Marcus could definitely feel his heart pounding.
"Marcus, how do you feel about this outfit?" Emma asked him in jest.
She just popped out of the water like a mermaid, unaware of her own allure as she unwittingly displayed it.
Marcus raised his head a little.
He recalled their first-year basketball game, where he had led the finance team against the drama and film team.
Emma appeared with water at halftime, flashing her tiny fangs and grinning, "School prince, want water? This is loving Cupid's water..."
He'd turned to look at Emma back then and turned down the water.
Embarrassed, Emma hung her hand in midair and said, "Hey, give me some face, school prince."
One of the drama and film team guys ran over and wiped his sweaty face with his jersey. Grinning, he accepted the water from Emma's hand and said, "I'll take it, Emma. I'm quite thirsty."
Marcus grabbed the water out of the man's hand the next instant.
He drank 500 mL of water in one gulp and "thudded" the empty bottle at the man's feet.
The man's expression wavered a few times, and then he gritted his teeth and walked away.
Marcus stood up to go back into the match. A small, clean, soft hand held his hard, sweaty arm gently. "Wait, do you think I look good today, school prince?"
Suddenly, his arm was burning.
The temperature that day was almost unbearably hot—hotter even than 42 degrees.
He didn't look at Emma, staring straight at the court, shaking her hand off his arm, his voice hoarse, "I need to get back to the game."
That day, he barely gave the cheer squad a sidelong glance.
since he was aware of Emma's presence.
He had beer and barbecue with his teammates after that, and then he went back to the dorm to take a shower and go to bed. He noticed the game photos posted to their finance class chat group while he was lying in his top bunk.
He caught a glimpse of Emma's candid moment where she was holding his arm, staring up at him, and talking.
She was dressed in the white cheer squad uniform, her hair pulled back in high pigtails. Her legs were straight and long beneath the extremely short pleated skirt.
She was on her toes to get close enough to his ear.
Her shirt was riding up, tautly stretched.
revealing a trim waist that sparkles in the sun.
That day, as her fair hand clasped his arm burnished by the sun, an intense male-female dynamic was created by the contrast between black and white.
"School prince, do you think I look good today?" she asked softly as he lay in the top bunk and studied that picture.
"School prince..."
"Do I...look good?"
Young men always have endless vigor. Dorm mates often played adult videos, but Marcus had little desire.
But now, lying in his bunk amid his roommates' animated debate about the game, he closed his eyes and rolled over.
Veins protruded from the hand that was firmly holding his phone.
Under his covers, the other hand reached...
"Marcus, how do you think this dress looks on me?" Emma asked again in the VIP room, having run out of patience.
"Young Master Marcus." With a smile, the manager reminded her gently, saying, "These outfits you and Ms. Emma are wearing look so well together. Should we decide on these two at tonight?"
It was at that moment that Marcus became conscious again and realized he had approached Emma.
The childish girl with her hair pulled back in a ponytail from seven years ago.
Her features fully developed into captivating beauty seven years later.
Marcus stood in front of her, staring at her intently, saying, "Good, this one."
This female.
It was all very well ordained.
The manager snapped a photo and grinned, saying, "Click."
-
The Starweaver Group headquarters, situated in the bustling south side of the city, exuded a cosmopolitan charm with its busy streets filled with sleek luxury cars zipping past. Luxury cars sped by, and people bustled during rush hour.
John Baxter got into James's car after work so they could go have dinner together. "James, where are you staying as an employee? Is it cozy? If not, inform me so I can move you to a different one."
James, exuding a refined academic temperament, was impeccably dressed in a neat and prim suit that complemented his scholarly aura. "It's fine," he said with a soft smile.
His phone was being played with by his long, elegant fingers. Though his fingertips were cool and white, they were not in the car as he delicately touched the screen.
What had been discussed at lunch today between her and him?
She arrived home late once more last night. What about this evening?
After unlocking his phone, he locked it once more.
Unlocked, then locked once more.
In the driver's seat, Arthur couldn't help but purse his lips.
Though he might be accustomed to it, Young Master wasn't!
Staying in that old residential area, Young Master had no idea what nonsense he was getting up to. All he could do was look for a hotel nearby to stay at.
He has never stayed at a hotel with fewer than five stars since he started following Young Master. The lack of soundproofing in the hotel was the only issue—it wasn't that he couldn't withstand hardship!
To him, those lewd noises were an absolute torment.
He still hadn't slept well the night before!
"You young people, I just don't get it, but please let me know if you ever feel uncomfortable." With a laugh, John Baxter pulled out his phone.
With only two years left before retirement, John Baxter's pace of life had noticeably slowed, prompting moments of reflection and contemplation about his future. When he had free time, he enjoyed scrolling through his phone.
"Oh, Marcus, who never posts, actually shared a photo of his wife," John Baxter said, pausing his movements.
James's calm gaze faltered for a moment as he glanced at John Baxter's phone, a flicker of curiosity crossing his features before he composed himself.