very chalant girly 𐙚

“Are you sure?” Wanda had asked after she brought it up and you’d said yes.Which is silly, because of course you’d be sure. You’re so very sure.

Wanda’s been toying with the idea of wanting to spice things up a bit for a long time and knowing how much you enjoyed getting your tits played with, it seemed like the perfect idea. Not to mention the fact that Wanda is very good at making you surrender to her with just one look and a smirk. It’s not a necessity, but it certainly helps. You just want to be taken.

You also want sex to hurt a little bit. Which is exactly how you got yourself into this situation.

Your nipples have always been sensitive, Wanda knows that for as long as you’ve been fucking, so this seemed like a solid way to start exploring. Not too surprising, not too intense, but just right. You’ve tried similar things before, Wanda loves twisting and pulling on your nipples and you love when she does it, but this is still a new thing.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” Wanda’s voice softly tells her from the other side of the room. You smile and squirm in delight, but you still don't feel like opening your eyes. Your other senses seem so much more heightened when you keep your eyes closed. Maybe you’ll bring up the use of a blindfold next time.

“Feel good,” you murmur, twisting your fingers into the bedsheets.

Wanda chuckles softly. “I can tell,” she says, her voice suddenly a lot closer. Suddenly, you feel expert fingers swipe through your wet slit.

You moan softly, spreading your thighs and arching your back. Wanda laughs again, but her fingers are gone just as fast as they appeared. You know better than to chase them, and you also know not to let the urge to touch yourself overwhelm you. You’re good to Wanda after all. You just want pleasure and that comes with a bit of pain, but you’re not a brat. At least you’re not feeling so right now.

“Not too tight?” Wanda asks, flicking one of you’s nipples with her damp fingers. It sends an electric sizzle down your core and right into your clit, which throbs between your legs. Touching your nipples usually does that to you anyway, but with the metal clamps around them it’s so much more intense, and you can’t help but push into the touch this time.

“Again, again,” you plead, tugging on the sheets so hard you’re afraid they might rip.

“I’m gonna take that as a ‘no’,” Wanda murmurs, using both hands this time to touch your nipples. She rubs her thumbs over the swollen nubs, squeezes them gently and then takes a hold of the clamps, pulling on them ever so slightly.

Your eyes fly open and instantly lock with Wanda’s as she yelps and bucks her hips. There’s a gush of wetness between your legs, covering your thighs and running down your slit to soak through your sheets. It feels so good and it hurts so much, you’re honestly confused about which sensation is more persistent, but your body responds in all the right ways.

“I’m going to attach the chain,” Wanda announces, her own gaze flaring with want. “I want to give you what you need, but I also very much want to take what’s mine.” She lets her eyes flicker down to where you are spread out for her and licks her lips.

You think you've never felt more desired in your life, and you briefly wonder why Wanda hadn’t brought this up sooner.

Wanda is careful in attaching the weighted chain to the nipple clamps and she lets it rest on your sternum to give you a few seconds to adjust to the change. The metal is cold against your skin, but it only adds to your arousal.

“Right,” Wanda says when she climbs onto the bed and in between your legs. “Jesus, if you only knew how hot you look right now.” She lowers herself to your stomach on the mattress and wraps her arms around your thighs.

“Wanda,” you whine, subtly rolling your hips. It causes the chain to slip to the side, off of your chest, and you gasp in surprise when it pulls on both of your nipples. Your pussy contracts around nothing and releases more slick. You’re so impatient for Wanda’s touch, you want to yank at your own hair.

Or maybe the chain, to see if you can come that way.

Wanda seems to lose her marbles right there and then, because her tongue is between your wet folds in an instant. Her left hand wraps around your thigh, making sure she keeps your legs spread, while her right hand slides up and picks up the chain. She pulls on it, just as gently as before, but it’s enough to make you scream.

“Fuck, fuck, Wanda, shit,” you babble, thrashing your head from side to side on her pillow. The pull on your nipples alone is enough to drive you crazy, but then Wanda is tracing her tongue along your labia, into your opening and around your clit, and you honestly think you might explode.

You’ve always loved being on the receiving end of oral sex, but oral sex has taken on an entirely different meaning since Wanda started licking you out on a regular basis. Wanda does things with her tongue that no man or woman seems to know the secret to. She knows exactly where to lick, where to suck, how fast to flick her tongue back and forth over your clit and how much pressure to use. You never last long when Wanda licks you.

The nipple clamps certainly don’t help.

“Baby,” you whimper, slipping a hand into Wanda’s coily hair. Wanda, in reply, sucks on your clit and pulls on the chain again. “Fuck!” you feel like your entire body is on fire and all you can do is let it wash over you. Your toes curl in pleasure and your eyes fall shut as you come on Wanda’s tongue. You throb, burn and ache in the best ways, all through your orgasm. It seems to last forever, but when you do eventually come down from it, you immediately loosen the nipple clamps and shove them away.

“Too much,” you pants, squirming. Wanda’s mouth is still hovering over where you just made a mess of yourself.

“But worth a repeat?” Wanda asks, running gentle hands over your thighs.

“Please.”

You grab onto Wanda’s shoulders and urge her to crawl up over you. You can’t verbalize what you want her to do, but Wanda has always understood you in a way no one else does. She straddles your waist and scooches up until her pussy is hovering over your mouth, just out of reach.

“Could have said you want me to sit on your face, baby. You can use your words,” she says, but you have no idea what words are right now, so instead you pull Wanda down and work her over like she’s your last meal.

────୨ৎ────

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@imanidiotsimpforhotmen

“You’re acting like a brat,” Clark mutters at you, not even sneaking a glance your way. His composure annoys you. Usually, your boyfriend can’t get his hands off of you, but he’s upset today and your methods just aren’t working. You’re not used to this.

Clark called you a brat because you sat on his thighs wearing nothing but a t-shirt and skimpy underwear, so you’re sure he can feel how wet you are. That is the whole point of the little thing you’re doing. “I just want you,” you say and pout, hoping that will work. Clark can never say no to you. “Why is that a problem?”

You know why, though. You’ve been acting weird lately—work and friends have been getting on your nerves, PMS and bad weather completely messed with your mood. So, when your boyfriend initiated sex last night after he came home from work and found you cuddled up in bed, you told him you feel like he just wants sex from you. You should have never said it because it's not true at all, you just wanted to be held, but he couldn’t have read your mind.

Clark apologized, assured you that your suspicion wasn’t true, and went to bed without touching you. He’s avoided touching you all day, even if he did kiss and hug you just like he usually would. However, you noticed that he didn’t reach for your ass or tits the entire day, not even a gentle smack as you walked past him, not even a squeeze. It was like he was trying to prove to you that he can live without being sexual with you. Sadly, you’ve realized you can’t.

“Wouldn’t want our relationship to be just sex,” he mutters and continues reading the book. He's been on the same page for the last ten minutes, but you’re not going to point that out because it will annoy Clark even more.

It’s hard to concentrate when you're wearing next to nothing and straddling his thigh, you’re aware. “Oh, it’s more than that,” you say with a smile. “But, right now, I want it to be just that.”

“Babe, I¿m not fucking you. You said I can’t go 24 hours without being inside you, so there's another—” he makes a point out of glancing at his watch, “seven hours until my point is proven.”

You scoff and grind your crotch against his firm thigh. Thank fuck he decided to wear shorts today, shorts that rise up his thighs when he shifts in his seat on the couch, shorts that allow your pussy to rub against his skin. You have underwear on, but it’s wet already, and you’re sure your boyfriend can feel that. In fact, you’re pretty sure Clark feels every inch of your wet pussy. “You’re really going to wait for another seven hours just to prove a point?”

“Absolutely.” He looks up from the book and raises an eyebrow. “Do you think acting like a brat will get me to change my mind?”

“But I want you to fuck me,” you whine, but it only makes him chuckle and pat your cheek. It’s annoying how determined he is when you know he’s just as horny as you. He has to be, he didn’t get any yesterday, either.

“Cute,” Clark mumbles and starts pretending he’s reading that book again even though you’re sure he’s focusing on the feeling of your wet crotch on him.

“Can I get off like this?” you ask innocently. Nowhere in his little monologue did he mention you not touching him, so you think your little plan might work after all.

Clark shrugs as if he doesn’t give a damn about it, even though you’re positive he’s burning up from the inside. “Go for it.”

He’s not expecting you to go through with it, you’re sure. Your boyfriend probably thinks you’ll grind a time or two and then beg him to fuck you. 

You grab his shoulders and grind your hips, making sure you find a good angle, that your clit rubs against his firm muscle, that you manage to feel some sort of friction all over your crotch. It takes you more than a couple of times to get the angle right, to figure out which movements work best. By the time you do, Clark is already looking up at you, the book still in his hand, eyes squinted. “Really?”

“What?” you ask, continuing to move like you would if you were on top of him and just teasingly rolling your hips in circles. You know Clark loves it when you ride him, when he can just sit or lie there and watch you move up and down his cock, watch your body writhe and move faster the closer you get to an orgasm. So, he has to be enjoying this. “You told me I can go for it.”

“You’re dripping all over my thigh,” Clark notes, tonguing his cheek. It should have sounded like a reprimand, but his tone tells you he loves it.

“I thought you like that,” you chuckle, tilting your head to the side. “Thought you like knowing how turned on you get me. And you’re just sitting there doing nothing, baby.”

Clark scoffs, but he can’t hide his smile, so he pretends he’s reading the book. “You’re really something.”

“So are you,” you coo, starting to moan here and there. “Even your thigh can get me off.”

“Can it?”

“It will take a while, but it can… You could get me off faster, though.”

Clark’s jaw clenches and he looks at the book again. He knows very well he could get you off in a matter of minutes, but he will not put any part of his body inside of yours, he can’t. He promised himself he wouldn’t do that just to show you that you’re more than just sex to him. “I know how good you are with those fingers.”

He scoffs and looks away, so you take things further by reaching for his hand. When he lets you do with it as you please, you take two of his fingers into your mouth and suck on them while humming, acting like it’s his dick in your hand and not just the two fingers. 

“Really?” your boyfriend mutters, shaking his head, but his eyes are fixated on your mouth and the way you suck. You’re sure he’s imagining your lips wrapped around his cock right about now. You move your tongue in between them and start to suck even more air. Clark’s eyes don’t even blink for a second. 

You pull the fingers out of your mouth with a loud pop and notice how a string of saliva is connecting them to your lips. Good. Clark likes it messy. “What? I know you like it.” Your hand travels down his firm chest, but not before squeezing his pecs, and ends up hovering above his erection. You’re more than happy to see him fully hard, straining against the shorts. “See?”

You grab it and squeeze tight, getting him to groan. “You like it too. Wish you’d let me sit on your face.”

Clark tongues his cheek and looks to the side. He loves having you on his face, mostly because it’s not a common occurrence. You prefer to be on your back when he does it, but since he’s a big fan of you sitting on him, you give it a try here and there. The fact that you’re talking about that right now just shows him how determined you are to get him to break. “You’re insufferable… “

“And here you are, leaking in your underwear because of me,” you tease right back, cocking an eyebrow up.

Clark laughs and finally throws the book to the side. “That’s because someone’s leaving a wet trail on my thigh. That horny, huh? Guess you wouldn’t be if you’d just let me fuck you last night.”

You nod at that, realising he’s absolutely right. You wouldn’t be acting like a total brat now and begging him to fuck you if you had only reacted better last night. He’s right, so you continue bucking your hips into his thigh and apologize. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize for not being in the mood,” Clark cuts you off and grabs your hips, making you stop. He never wants you to feel like sex is an obligation or something you’re doing for him. Both of you have to be in the mood and enjoy it for it to be a good experience that makes your relationship better. “Apologise for hurting my feelings.”

“I am sorry for that. I was just emotional all day and said the dumbest thing I could.” While you’re apologising from the bottom of your heart, you continue grinding against him, your pussy getting just enough friction for you to be unable to even pause. “I know you love me as much as I love you.”

“Hmm, good,” he hums happily. “We’re getting somewhere.”

“Does this mean you’ll get me off? I know you’re perfect with your mouth too,” you lean in and kiss him, just press your lips against his, breathe him in. Then, you deepen the kiss and continue grinding, his hands on your hips now helping you move instead of keeping you in place. “The best.”

Clark chuckles into the kiss and pulls away just to give you a cocky grin. “Tonight at 10, yeah.”

“Baby…” you whine, in awe that he’s still keen on proving you wrong even though you’ve admitted you’re wrong and apologized for it.

“Nu-uh…” Clark tsks at you before licking his lips and looking down at your crotch. “Getting off like this. Take your shirt off. I want to see you.”

“Horny little pervert,” you mutter but reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, revealing your naked chest. As always, the sight of you shirtless makes him hum.

“Says the person going crazy on my thigh,” Clark mutters, eyes still locked on your tits.

“Well, since I can’t use your dick today…” Clark laughs at that and continues staring as you play with your tits. So, you whine again, “Touch.”

“Nope,” he shakes his head, “seven more hours.”

“Okay.” Since your plan clearly isn’t going to work, you decide to one up yourself. You bring your fingers up to his lips and make him suck on them. Clark lets them slide easily, lets you run them over his tongue, and pull them out. Then, you exchange glances and you bring the wet fingers down to play with your nipple and moan loudly. “I’ll do it myself. Enjoy the show.”

Clark stares at you, fingers digging into your hips as he helps you move faster and cause more and more friction. “Where was this slut in you hiding last night?” he coos. “I would have given it to you so good.”

“Fuck!” you hiss, clenching around nothing, starting to buck your hips into him so hard you think it will hurt later. Whenever Clark gets in the mood, his mouth gets dirty, and you love that. “You can still give it to me.”

“Later.”

You whine at that, kicking your head back and groaning, your hips still desperately moving back and forth, pussy dragging across his firm muscle.

“You can do it, just keep moving,” Clark encourages you, clearly wanting you to come even if he doesn’t touch you. “Feels good? Gets you wet, I can feel it…” 

Clark squeezes his muscles, which completely changes the feeling. It’s so much harder now, the friction a lot more satisfying. “Better?”

“Oh God… yes!”

For a while, you ride his thigh as you two stare at each other hungrily. His cock twitches in his shorts when you start moaning louder, when you frown and whine, when you scream his name as you come. He laughs at that, patting your cheeks and pulling you in for a kiss. “I’m fucking you so hard at 10 pm sharp, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

────୨ৎ────

taglist:

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@c1eepypas1a

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@lovelyy-moonlight

Natasha dialed your phone number from memory. She had been chasing a lead for two days in order to be given the okay to start an actual mission, and finally, all her time had paid off. She waited patiently for you to answer. With your help as a lawyer she would have zero issues presenting the mission to Fury. She just needed everything to be in the right condition. After three rings, your startled voice answered.

“I know it’s late, but I need to show you something before you file the complaint tomorrow. Can I come over?”

“Okay,” you sighed. “How long until you’re here?”

“About twenty minutes.”

The spy drove leisurely to your building, and when she arrived, she gathered all the evidence she had collected. She took the elevator up to the address at number 903 and when her eyes fell on the door, she found it ajar.

Carefully, she took out the gun she always carried and entered the house. She called your name repeatedly, pacing around the apartment until she heard you answer from your bedroom, your voice shaky.

Natasha opened the door suspiciously. Her astonishment was overwhelming when she saw you naked on the bed, one of your hands between your legs and the other fondling your chest.

Small sighs escaped your mouth, making Natasha strain to make out a few of your words—her name in most cases, followed by ‘please’ and ‘more.’

The redhead smiled and admired the scene being played out for her. Then she meticulously put away the gun she was still holding. She leaned against the dresser in front of you, while letting you show her exactly how you liked to be touched. 

After a few minutes, you opened your eyes, and Natasha’s gaze immediately met yours. She saw for a second how the fog of lust prevented you from understanding what was happening.

When you realized that Natasha wasn’t a mirage of your imagination, your eyes widened in surprise, cheeks flushed, and shame appeared on your face. You tried to cover yourself and get out of bed, trying to mutter an apology as you mustered some dignity.

Natasha didn’t move a single muscle, trying to put on her best poker face while you continued with your ‘i’m so sorry’s.

“Are you finished?” she asked, tired of hearing you. “Are you finished trying to pretend you’re not a slut?”

“I…”

“No, I’ll talk now,” Natasha said, forcing you to shut up. “Stop justifying yourself, stop trying to convince me that you didn’t want me to catch you masturbating. I know you were already doing it when you answered the phone,” she continued, remembering the tremble on your voice when she called you. “You knew I was coming, and the door to your apartment was open, an invitation to anyone.”

Natasha watched as you squirmed with every word she said; it was then she realised you were desperate to continue what you were doing.

“Now do what I say, lie back down on the bed and let me see that beautiful view from before.”

You moved slowly, laying down, and looking at her as you moved your hands back to where they’d been before. Then your eyes turned pleading, almost as if asking her permission to begin.

“Come on, continue,” Natasha encouraged you.

Immediately, your hands began to roam your body, eyes closed as your pleasure resumed.

“Look at me,” She called your name in a demanding tone. “I want you to look at me.”

Natasha had moved closer to you, so close that she was sitting a few inches from your feet, where she could better see what you were doing.

“Bend your knees and spread your legs wide.” You obeyed her like the good little girl you were to her. She smirked as she realised the control she held over you.

In that position, Natasha could see everything, every movement of your fingers, every tremor of your body.

She let you build your orgasm little by little, and when she knew you were within reach of it in a couple of movements, she removed your hand from your center. You moaned in torment and guided your other hand down your body. Guessing your intentions, Natasha grabbed both of your wrists.

“You didn't think I’d let you get away with it so quickly? Did you? You deserve a little punishment.”

When she felt your body relax, she released your hands and with a smile and a nod, allowed you to resume your ministrations.

Once again, as you rubbed circles into your clitoris and stared into Natasha’s green eyes, you felt your climax closer than ever, but then again, your hands were ripped away from your pussy.

This time, you were faster than her and closed your legs, creating the necessary friction by rubbing your thighs together. Your body was so far gone at that point that you reached orgasm in just a few movements.

It was short and unsatisfying, and Natasha knew it. You still tried to send your trapped hands to your center and moved your body harder, but it didn't have the desired result.

You continued like this for a while, until you finally gave up. Then Natasha took out her handcuffs, the ones you had seen her use on more than one target, and hooked them to your wrists and the bed, preventing you from moving them.

Natasha then stripped naked before you, letting you absorb her every movement.

“Has your orgasm satisfied you?” she asked, approaching you.

You didn’t even speak, just shook your head and spread your legs, as if presenting yourself to her, as if she hadn’t already seen everything just seconds ago.

“Let me try.”

Her mouth was suddenly on you, in your pussy, before you even had a single moment to register it, and the moan that escaped your mouth sounded like a crazed howl.

Natasha relished your impatience, as you began to move your hips to rub against her. Her fingers hid between your folds, and her mouth latched viciously on your clitoris.

A long, deep orgasm coursed through your body, causing you to tense from head to toe. A second, much shorter one, followed moments later, leaving you relaxed against the mattress.

Natasha allowed you to recover, and when your gazes connected, she spoke again.

“Now I'm going to take off your handcuffs and let you get revenge however you want. I'll let you be in charge, and you can do whatever you want to me. Does that sound okay?”

You nodded, still speechless, and Natasha kissed you to seal the pact.

She was so restless that when you ran your tongue around her pussy lips for the second time, she could only whisper a “please.” You were amused by her pleading and enthusiastically bit one of her hips, making her squeal in surprise.

You took your time exploring Natasha's body with your mouth, longer than you’d taken with any of your previous lovers, making the seemingly fearless spy more nervous with each passing second.

“So you want me to go faster, right?”

Natasha nodded because it was all she was capable of.

“Say it, Natasha, say you want me to go faster,” you whispered against her lips.

“I want you to go faster.”

The change came quickly. You inserted three fingers inside her and moved them almost roughly.

Natasha wasn’t prepared for this; she expected you to be sweet, shy, and a little chaste when you touched her. But it wasn’t like that. It seemed as if you wanted to destroy her, with your fingers inside of her and your mouth sucking and biting her neck.

“It's too much,” Natasha begged.

“No, it isn't,” you laughed. “You told me I could do whatever I wanted. Besides, I've watched you, I know you like it a little rough.”

Natasha didn't complain again and just trembled under your attention. When a twist of your fingers and a bite on her neck brought her to orgasm, she moaned your name a little too loudly.

────୨ৎ────

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The call came just past noon, buzzing across Marla’s nightstand until she finally swiped it on.

“Kendall.”

His voice was rough, the kind that came from no sleep and too much booze. “Look, I know you’re not gonna work for me. That’s… yeah. That’s fine. But don’t cut me out, okay? Don’t… don’t ghost me.”

Marla smirked faintly. “What is this, some kind of guilt trip?”

“No. Just, hear me out.” A pause, like he was bracing himself. “The family’s all out in New Mexico, at this ranch my mom’s got. Austerlitz. Some therapy shit. Logan thought it’d be… I don’t know, team-building, healing, whatever the fuck. Him and Shiv and Roman sitting in a circle crying about their feelings.” He gave a humorless laugh. “I was supposed to go. But I can’t. Not after everything.”

Marla sat up in bed. “So where are you?”

“Down the road from it. In town. Bar hopping. Meeting people.” His tone lightened, almost boyish. “It’s actually kind of great. No board, no cameras, no fucking Logan.” A small silence. Marla wondered how Kendall must be feeling right now. She’d stood by him but in the end she betrayed him just as much as his brother had done. Not that she could be blamed, she’d just seized an opportunity. But she still felt guilty. Marla damned her useless morality and irrational sense of what’s good and what’s bad. Taking a job opportunity from Logan is not worse than taking one from Kendall. But oh, poor Kenny. His chance had been killed off and he hadn’t even been there. He spoke again, breaking the silence. “You should come. No business. No pressure. Just… fun.”

For a moment, Marla didn’t answer. Yesterday, she’d shut him down cold. She wasn’t about to become anyone’s pawn, least of all his. But this was desperation dressed up as recklessness. A chance to lean into the chaos, just because she could.

“Why me?” she asked finally.

“Because you’re the only one I don’t have to bullshit. I've already told you I missed you. You get me. You, fuck, you make me feel normal. And I need that right now.”

That cracked something open in her. She made him feel normal. Marla felt the same way about him. Something about both of them making god awful decisions and trying to justify them. She saw herself in the way Kendall failed, she had never failed as much as Ken had, but that’s because she’d never really tried. That’s when she made a choice regarding Ken’s offer. 

She could tell him no again. Hang up. Stay clean. But the truth was, boredom had been gnawing at her, and discipline had never been her strong suit. Hedonism was easier.

“Fuck it,” she muttered. “Send me the address.”

────୨ৎ────

By the time she pushed into the New Mexico bar, the desert heat clung to her skin. Kendall was already there, hunched with a drink, orbiting three strangers who she later learned their names to be Tanner, Chang, and Mac. They looked like the kind of men who collect bongs not because they’re artistic like that and appreciate the different designs and colors from their creators, but rather because they’d break so many they HAD to have backups.

Kendall’s face lit up when he saw her, sloppy and boyish, as if she’d just rescued him from drowning.

“Knew you’d come,” he said.

Marla slid into the booth. “I literally told you I would.”

“Oh right.”

She plucked a glass from in front of Chang, and raised it like a toast. “Guess I decided to ruin my afternoon after all.”

The table laughed. Kendall exhaled, lighter already. And Marla thought: maybe she’d come for him. Or maybe she’d come because chaos was the one thing she could never walk away from.

Either way, she wasn’t going home anytime soon.

The bar had thinned out by late afternoon, sunlight spilling in dusty shafts across the floor. Marla nursed a beer while Kendall leaned harder into the strangers, making them feel like old friends. Tanner, Chang, and Mac were loose, loud, already circling around the idea of taking the party elsewhere.

“Chang’s place,” Tanner suggested, jerking his chin toward Kendall. “You down? Dude’s got the setup.”

Kendall grinned, too fast. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”

Marla arched an eyebrow but didn’t argue. When Kendall stood, she slid out of the booth with him. She wasn’t about to leave him alone with three guys who’d just claimed showering was a conspiracy from the government to wash out their brain cells.

By the time they pulled up, Marla wasn’t surprised by what she saw. Chang’s place was a squat little rental off a dirt road, blinds broken, paint peeling, a flag in the corner that had seen better days. What she didn’t expect were the wolves. Wolves on posters, wolves on mugs, wolves in porcelain figurines arranged neatly across the shelves. The whole house looked like it had been decorated by someone who’d lost a bet at a Spirit Halloween store.

“Lot of wolf stuff,” Kendall said, grinning as he stepped inside.

Chang puffed up with pride. “I like wolves.”

“Okay,” Kendall said again, almost reverent, like that explained everything.

Marla strolled past them, her gaze snagging on a framed painting of a lone wolf howling at a fluorescent moon. “This is either spiritual,” she muttered, “or serial killer. Not sure which.”

Chang tugged his sleeve back to reveal a tattoo of, what else, a wolf. “My mom says I was a wolf child.”

Tanner was already fiddling with a lighter, his hands steady in the way of someone who’d done this too many times. When the flame failed, he tossed it and pulled another from his pocket.

“That’s cos she never bothered to take care of you!” Tanner said, shaking his head. “That’s just salesmanship of her straight-up neglect.”

Kendall barely listened, already slumping onto the couch like it was swallowing him whole. “You get wolves here?” he asked, gesturing vaguely toward the desert beyond the blinds.

Mac shook his head. “Nope.”

The TV buzzed to life with ATN blaring a segment about flash floods. Kendall’s eyes locked on it, transfixed. “My family owns that,” he murmured, half to himself.

Marla rolled her eyes and dropped into the seat beside him. “Yeah they do.”

Tanner had moved on to business, torching the bottom of a lightbulb and setting up his makeshift pipe. He leaned forward and offered it to Kendall.

“I never did meth,” Kendall said, voice almost giddy. “This is like an experiment.”

Marla stiffened. “Ken, I don’t think you should…”

But he was already taking a hit, inhaling like it was oxygen. His eyes fluttered shut, his body sagged into the cushions, and then he let out a sigh so blissful it made Marla’s stomach twist. She shouldn’t try it, not after everything that’d happened the last time she tried out a new drug with Kendall. 

“It’s… really nice,” he breathed. “Home.”

Marla snatched the bulb from him, holding it out of reach but laughing nonetheless. “Congratulations, Mr. Roy. You’re officially a science experiment.”

Kendall only grinned back at her, glassy-eyed, the look of someone who had just found a new religion.

Chang was still on his wolf crusade, muttering about how humans only learned to talk because of dogs. Mac looked unconvinced, Tanner snorted, but Kendall leaned forward with sudden clarity.

“I’m not a real person,” he announced.

Marla barked out a laugh. “Trust me, you’re not that special.”

The room roared again, though Kendall didn’t seem to hear. He was busy listing off everything they needed: more meth, weed, Xanax, Oxy, cigarettes. The urgency in his voice made Marla’s chest tighten, but she didn’t move to stop him. Not yet.

When Tanner asked if he liked it, Kendall paused, then said solemnly, “Experiment successful.”

He jumped to his feet, arms flung wide like he was on stage. “I am interested in becoming a methhead.”

The guys cheered. Even Marla couldn’t help it, her smile slipped out before she could stop it, though hers was edged with disbelief.

“Jesus Christ, Ken,” she muttered. “You’re a one-man PSA.”

He spun toward her, grinning, then veered off into a tangent about cats only meowing for humans. The boys cackled, tossing him another bulb, tossing themselves into the madness.

Marla leaned back into the couch, legs crossed, the glass bulb still warm in her fingers. She wasn’t touching the stuff, but she wasn’t going to stop him either. Not tonight.

“You guys got some weed? Some lighter stuff perhaps?” She said as she let down the bulb beside her.

“Why, of course we do.” Chang moved to find a small box containing herbs and rolling paper as well as filters. “You want me to roll you one?”

“I can do it myself, thanks.”

“Alright just don’t smoke all of it. That’s my breakfast for tomorrow.”

This was entertainment. Chaos in its purest form.

And if she had to babysit Kendall through it, at least she’d get a front-row seat to the spectacle.

After a while of bad ‘your mom’ jokes and a bunch of joints, Kendall’s phone started buzzing. He ignored it. Buzz. Again. He waved it off, eyes fixed on the TV like it was prophesying something only he could decode.

The third time it rang, Marla leaned over, snatched it off the armrest, and pressed accept before he could stop her.

“Hello?”

“Who the fuck is this?” Roman’s voice, sharp, irritated.

Marla smirked, blowing a lazy trail of smoke. “Relax, it’s me.”

“Marla? Why the fuck are you answering Kendall’s phone?”

“Because he won’t,” she said, glancing at Ken, who was now babbling something to Chang about wolf ancestry. “He’s busy. Science experiment.”

There was a pause, then Roman’s voice tightened. “Is he high?”

Kendall suddenly lurched upright, trying to grab the phone from her. “I’m not high,” he announced loudly. “I’m very clear.”

“Uh-huh,” Roman deadpanned through the line. “Where the fuck are you?”

Kendall yanked the phone halfway, leaning toward it like it was a mic. “New Mexico!”

Another pause. 

“What?” Roman’s voice cracked.

“I realise now,” Kendall added solemnly, as if it explained everything.

“Oh my fucking god,” Roman muttered. “Send me a pin, just so I know you’re okay.”

Kendall frowned. “I’ve got… a lot of important information in play.”

Marla snorted into her joint. Roman sounded like he was pacing, probably pulling at his hair. “Just send me a fucking pin, okay? Do it now. Are you doing it?”

Kendall glanced down at his phone like it had betrayed him. Roman didn’t wait for an answer. “I’m coming to get you, bro.” The line went dead.

Marla handed the phone back. “Congratulations, Kenny. You’ve been grounded.”

Kendall muttered something under his breath, paranoia flickering across his face. He stared into a glass of water Chang had given him, nose wrinkling. “This water looks funny,” he whispered. “I don’t want to drink it.”

After 20 minutes or so of Marla laughing at Kendall’s antics, a knock rattled the door. Everyone froze.

“Who the fuck is that?” Tanner hissed, springing up like a cornered animal.

“It’s okay,” Kendall said quickly, lurching toward the door. “It’s my brother.”

Chang shuffled over and cracked it open on the chain. Roman’s face appeared in the gap, impatient as ever. “Hey, man? Man? I’ve come to rescue you.”

Chang looked back at Kendall for confirmation. Kendall nodded, grinning like this was all part of the show. The chain slid back, and Roman stepped in, his expression curdling instantly at the sight of the living room.

“Wow,” Roman said. “Hi. I like what you’ve done with the wolves.”

“Thought your brother was the rich guy with the… face?” Tanner asked, squinting at him.

“Yeah, thanks,” Roman shot back. Then, lower to Kendall: “Come on, man, let’s get you out of here.”

Kendall sat up straighter, suddenly formal. “I probably shouldn’t even be talking to you legally, given the ongoing situation apropos of my legal action against you…”

Roman cut him off. “Is that crack?”

Kendall ignored him, puffing out his chest. “But I’ve had a major realization.”

“Uh-huh. That shit will make you crash like fucking Mohamed Atta into Princess Di,” Roman muttered, eyeing the glass bulb beside him.

“Not if you stay high,” Tanner offered helpfully.

Kendall pointed at him like he’d cracked the code. “Tanner makes good points.”

Marla rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt.

Roman stepped forward, exasperated. “Come on, let’s go.”

“How’s therapy, huh?” Marla asked as she stood up.

“It was all bullshit,” Roman said flatly. “Logan didn’t even do it.”

That seemed to delight Kendall, who bounced to his feet. He turned to their hosts with a theatrical bow. “Gentlemen, this has been divine.”

Roman grabbed his arm and started pulling him toward the door. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll totally all meet up and do this again. I’ll make sure he stays in touch.”

As they shuffled out, Tanner shouted after them: “Hey, Kendall, tell Bill Gates my computer’s fucked from all the updates!”

The door slammed behind them.

Kendall sagged against Roman’s side, half-giddy, half-dead weight. Marla trailed after, smirking as she pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders. 

Roman slid behind the wheel, the old car humming like it had a hangover of its own. Kendall crumpled into the back seat, he was out cold within minutes, his head knocking against the window in the backseat. A low mutter, something about wolves, and then he was gone. Roman kept his eyes glued to the road, one hand at ten o’clock, the other jittering on the gear shift like it was personally offending him.

“You okay?” Roman tossed back at Kendall.

A muffled “Mmhmm.”

“Cool. Should I call a doctor? Or Rava? Or maybe hit a kid so we can steal his kidneys? He’ll bounce back. Kids are resilient.”

Kendall chuckled weakly, then went limp. The car filled with the sound of desert air whipping through the cracked window.

Roman’s eyes flicked sideways towards Marla and the huge grin still plastered on her face. “You think this is funny?”

Marla was leaning against the passenger seat door.  “A little. He’s a mess, but at least he’s an entertaining one.”

“Great,” Roman muttered. “Maybe we can sell tickets. Step right up, see the heir to the Waystar throne try not to piss himself.”

She shrugged. “Still better than folding before you even try.”

Roman’s head snapped toward her, then back to the road. “Wow. Right in with the cheap shots, huh? Didn’t miss a beat.”

“You could’ve helped him,” Marla pressed. “You two against your dad? That might’ve been something.”

“Yeah, sure. And maybe if you’d stuck around, we’d all be holding hands singing campfire songs right now. Don’t put this on me, Marls.”

Marla turned, eyebrows arched. “Oh please. I didn’t run. I just… looked out for what was best for me. Your dad never offered me a job. Why the fuck would I have stayed back then? You stayed, clinging to Daddy’s pant leg.”

Roman barked out a laugh, sharp and ugly. “Right, yeah. Real brave of you. Disappearing when things got messy. Classic Marla. Crawl back when you have an opportunity again. Maybe Logan’ll pat your head this time and say, ‘Good girl.’”

Her voice rose, venom slipping through. “Better than being his little clown! At least I didn’t beg him to notice me every five seconds.”

Roman slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. “Fuck you. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“I do, Roman,” she shot back. “I’ve always known. You make the jokes, the stupid little quips, but you wanted him to see you. To love you. You think I didn’t see that?”

He went quiet for a beat, but not soft, never soft. His lip curled. “Yeah? And you think I didn’t see you? Pretending you’re some hotshot strategist while you spent every night whispering with him on the phone? Hanging on his every word like a little acolyte? Don’t act like you weren’t his pet project. You wanted it just as bad as me.”

Marla’s jaw clenched. “At least I was good at it. At least I earned his attention.”

Roman’s laugh was sharp, cruel. “Oh, you earned it. Sure. Cute dress, smart mouth, batting those eyes.” He laughed and it was cruel. “Very strategic. What’s the ROI on family issues and a push-up bra, huh?”

She shot him a glare that could kill. “Says the guy who still can’t make a decision without pissing himself. How’s that working out for you, Romey? Being Logan’s punching bag?”

He barked out a laugh, almost delighted by her fury. “Ohhh, there she is. I was wondering how long it’d take before Princess Marla dropped the cool act. Welcome back, baby. Missed you.”

Marla leaned forward, voice low and sharp. “You never missed me. You hated me because I saw through you. Because I wasn’t afraid to call you small.”

The word landed like a slap. Roman gripped the wheel tighter, knuckles whitening. He didn’t answer right away, just pushed the gas harder, the car humming.

Finally, he muttered: “I did miss you.” Marla laughed, bitter. “And I never hated you.” She looked at him incredulously. “Well, fuck, I never hated you because of what you just said. I… I don’t think you see through me.”

“Oh you don’t?”

“I think it’s the other way around.” 

They sat in the rush of desert air, the silence raw and jagged. Kendall stirred in the back, muttering nonsense. Neither of them looked back. Neither of them softened.

The drive up the long dirt road was suffocating in its quiet. Roman pulled up sharp, gravel spitting under the wheels.

The retreat house loomed, pale and bland against the desert. Marla had her door open before the car fully stopped.

“Okay,” she said briskly, tugging at her jacket. “This is where I exit. Fun day, thank you both. I’ll take a driver back to the city.”

Roman snorted. “Yeah, good luck hailing an Uber out here. Maybe a pack of wolves’ll give you a lift.”

Kendall stirred, squinting through the window. “No, she should come in. She’s… she’ll help. An outsider’s good. Balance, perspective, all that.”

Marla shot him a look. “Ken, you don’t need me in family therapy cosplay. I’m not doing that.”

The front door creaked open. Logan stepped out, Roman’s shadow practically growing taller beside him. Logan’s gaze went right to her. 

“Well,” he said. “Look what the desert dragged in.”

Roman shifted uneasily. “I told him you were here.”

And of course he did. Marla’s plans for a smooth getaway were ruined. 

“Come on inside then for fucks sake.” 

The kitchen was too bright, too clean. Limewashed walls, expensive pottery pretending to be rustic, it all only made it feel more sterile. Logan sat at the head of the long table, a glass of water untouched in front of him, Roman hovering near the fridge like a kid caught stealing. Kendall perched and twitching, still trying to look present.

Marla didn’t sit. She leaned against the counter, arms crossed, deliberately separate.

Logan’s voice cracked the air. “So. You. What the fuck are you doing here? Hm? Decided to betray me and move around with Kendall? I give you a chance and that isn’t enough? Thought you’d sniff around, see if there’s blood in the water?”

Kendall leaned forward, desperate. “She told me no. She told me no, okay? She’s not here for business, she’s here for me.”

Logan turned his head, slow, savoring it. “For you. Jesus Christ. Why keep her around then? She’s no Roy. She’s nothing.” He turned towards her. “Remember that I can fire you just as fast as I hired you”

Roman barked out a laugh, sharp and mean, but his eyes flickered toward her.

Marla straightened. “If you want me gone, fine. But know this, if I go, I go with Kendall. And you don’t want that.”

The silence was brittle. Roman smirked like he couldn’t believe she’d said it. 

And then Logan laughed. Loud, jagged, cruel. “Oh, Jesus. That’s rich. You think you’re leverage? You think you matter? You’re noise. That’s all you are. But…” he tilted his head, eyes gleaming, “…sometimes noise has its uses. Keeps the blood flowing.”

He leaned back, dismissing her with a flick of his hand. “I’d much prefer it if you didn’t stay, I’m pretty sure there’s a heated discussion coming up once my son in law fucking appears. But it doesn’t make a fuck of a difference to me.”

Marla’s smile sharpened. “Thanks for the warm welcome, Logan. Always a pleasure.”

“I’ve decided to not fire you. I like that snarkiness of yours but keep it controlled. There’s a fine line between entertainment and disrespect.”

“I would never dare disrespect you Mr Roy” Marla said in a clear sarcastic manner that seemed to amuse Logan. 

“Yeah, yeah, fuck off now.” He was smiling. Roman wasn’t able to understand Marla’s dynamic with his dad back when they were teenagers and he isn’t able now. The only thing he did know is that he envied it. He envied Marla’s apparent confidence when approaching him and he envied how his dad actually saw her as competent. 

She pushed off the counter, already moving toward the door. Roman tracked her, his smirk gone.

As she crossed the threshold, she caught his glare and held it for just long enough to know he’d remember.

The evening air outside was cooler, the desert stretching wide and empty. Marla had barely made it down the steps when Shiv emerged, car keys dangling from her fingers.

“Thought you might need a car,” Shiv said, casual but sharp. “Driver’s yours if you want to run.”

Marla took the keys, eyes narrowing. “Generous. What’s the catch?”

“No catch. I just don’t need to watch you circling in there, pretending to be Switzerland.” Shiv smiled thin, nothing warm in it. “Besides, Dad just called you sharp. Said that’s why you belong here. Thought you’d want to hear that before you leave.”

The words landed heavier than Shiv meant. Marla blinked, once, before smirking.

Shiv tilted her head. “Yeah, well. Don’t let it go to your head. I’m not sure if he meant that as a good thing.”

Marla’s laugh was short. “Oh, don’t worry. I know better than to think it means anything.”

They locked eyes, this was merely a selfless act of kindness from Shiv. She was making it clear from how she looked at Marla that it wasn’t personal and nothing was resolved.

Then Marla pocketed the keys, gave Shiv a razor-edged smile, and headed down the drive toward the waiting car.

Shiv watched her go, her arms crossed and her lips tight.

────୨ৎ────

The boardroom was already tense when Marla arrived, its heavy oak doors swallowing the murmurs of Waystar’s elite like a judge’s gavel calling court to order. The air had that thick, charged quality—anticipation laced with just a touch of dread. It smelled of expensive cologne, stale coffee, and the underlying rot of old money in crisis.

She stepped inside, deliberate and silent, the click of her heels muffled by the plush carpeting. Eyes flicked toward her but didn’t linger. She was not the main event. Not today. That honor belonged to Kendall, except, of course, he wasn’t fucking here.

Marla stood in the hallway outside the boardroom, arms crossed, watching as Gerri pressed her phone tighter against her ear. The older woman’s face was a mask of forced calm, but Marla caught the way her fingers drummed impatiently against the side of her blazer.

“Gerri. Can you hear me?” Kendall’s voice crackled through the speaker, cutting in and out. “Hey, where are you? Listen, I’m... I’m almost there. The traffic stopped. I need you to stall.”

Marla exhaled sharply, shifting her weight onto one foot. Stall? Logan was already in there, and she knew damn well he wasn’t going to wait around for his son to show up and stab him in the throat.

“What? What’s that? Bad connection,” Gerri muttered. She glanced at Marla and Roman, exasperated. “Kendall, I can’t hear you.”

“I’m in a tunnel. OK? Stall.”

And then—silence.

Gerri stared at her phone for half a second before muttering, “Fuck.”

Marla barely had time to process before Roman let out a sharp, amused breath beside her. “Wow. Amazing job, Ken. ‘I’m in a tunnel?’ What, is he driving in from the fucking underworld?”

Marla ignored him, turning to Gerri. “What now?”

Gerri pinched the bridge of her nose. “We go in. And we don’t make it look like we’re scrambling.”

Marla rolled her shoulders back, adjusting her blazer. Kendall needed time, and she wasn’t exactly in the business of defending dumbass rich boys, but she wasn’t about to let Logan steamroll this before it even started.

Roman smirked at her, watching her straighten up. “Aw, look at you. Actually trying to save your little buddy’s coup attempt.”

“Somebody has to,” Marla shot back, already walking toward the boardroom doors.

Behind her, Roman chuckled. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

Marla slid into a seat at the far end of the table, a safe distance from Roman, but unfortunately not far enough from Logan’s eyeline. She felt his gaze skim over her, sharp and assessing, but he said nothing, yet.

Stewy sat down beside her, catching Marla’s eye and giving her the faintest nod. At least one person here wasn’t openly hostile.

Frank cleared his throat. “Uh, I... I just got word. I think Kendall will be a few minutes late.”

Marla stayed still, barely breathing. Logan, seated at the head of the table, didn’t react at first, just stared at Frank like he’d spoken in a foreign language.

Frank hesitated. “Request for a late start?”

“No!” Logan barked.

Frank flinched. “No?”

“He can catch up,” Logan said, waving a hand. “Fuck that! Where is he?”

Frank cleared his throat. “Stuck in traffic. That’s all I know”

“Okay, come on, come on, let’s go. Let’s go.” He clapped his hands together, impatient. 

“It’s twelve noon, and I’d like to call the meeting of Waystar Royco to order.” Frank straightened his papers. “Roll call.”

Roman made a face. “Roll call?”

Logan scoffed. “We’ve never done roll call.”

Frank ignored them. “We’re doing it today.”

“Why?” Logan asked.

“Because that’s how we do it,” Frank muttered.

Marla caught the way Logan tilted his head, he surprisingly still hadn’t caught on to what was about to happen. 

Frank pressed on. “Logan Roy.”

Logan spread his hands. “Yeah.”

Frank continued. “Frank Vernon, present.”

“Kendall Roy. Absent, Roman Roy.”

“Yo,” Roman said, popping the ‘o.’

“Ewan Roy, absent. Marla Carranza”

“Here”

“That’s a fucking surprise.” Logan’s mutters were still loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. 

And so Frank continued on with the roll call, realising that there was not much stalling left that could be done. 

He set the papers down. “Mr. Chairman, we have a quorum. So,” he said lazily, “everybody has a copy of the agenda and the minutes of the last meeting. Is that right?”

A quiet chorus of yeses followed.

“Do any of you have any questions that have come to you immediately after looking at them?” Frank asked, glancing around. “I know that I—I have a few thoughts we might have to take a look at.”

“What thoughts?” Logan asked, raising a brow.

“Just wait a second, and I’ll get to it.”

Marla glanced sideways as Gerri checked her phone again. The same tight, contained expression.

Still no fucking Kendall.

As Frank was about to move forward, the conference room doors swung open with a slow, deliberate creak.

Every head turned.

Ewan Roy stood in the doorway, adjusting his coat like he had all the time in the world. Behind him, a stunned assistant hovered awkwardly, half-gesturing toward the entrance, clearly having failed to stop him from walking in unannounced.

Marla caught the flicker of surprise in Logan’s eyes, very brief, but there.

He was starting to realise something was going on.

Ewan gave the room a disapproving once-over before speaking.

“Well… you just can’t keep away, huh?” Logan finally broke the silence, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

Ewan sniffed. “Thought maybe I’d show up for once. Watch the fun.”

Marla glanced at Roman, who leaned back in his seat, whispering a barely audible “Jesus” under his breath as he stood up to receive a call from whom she could only assume was Kendall.

Marla hadn’t been to board meeting in years but she was still aware that this was a fucking shitshow. 

Frank’s eyes narrowed. “So, let’s move along to item 3.1.”

“Mm-hmm? Uh, what’s ‘Performance issues?’” Logan frowned. “Sounds fucking vague. And why is it so high on the fuckin’ hit parade?”

Logan’s frown deepened. “What is this?”

Marla braced herself.

“What the f**k is this?”

“I think Kendall wants to make a comment.” 

Through the speaker, Kendall’s voice came in, slightly distorted but unmistakably tense.

“Hey, guys. Can you hear me? I apologize. I will be there shortly.”

Logan tapped his fingers against the table again, but this time, it wasn’t amusement. It was irritation.

“Where are we at?” Kendall asked.

Frank hesitated. “We are at your item. Performance issues.”

Silence.

Marla gripped her pen. Come on, Ken. Say it.

A siren wailed faintly in the background.

“You want us to wait?”

Logan tilted his head, eyes sharp. “F**k that. We’re movin’ on.”

Another pause. Then—Kendall’s voice, firm.

“No, no. It’s okay. I can do this.”

Marla exhaled slowly, pulse picking up.

This is happening.

“…every day he refuses to retire, he is one day closer to destroying his own legacy.”

The air in the boardroom felt thick, pressing in like a held breath. Across from her, Ewan scoffed, tearing at his croissant with deliberate disinterest. Marla could hear the flake of pastry crackling between his fingers, a sound almost as loud as the silence in the room.

Logan leaned forward, his voice sharp despite the gravel in it. “Speak up. Can’t hear.”

Kendall’s voice returned, stronger.

“He took on levels of debt that threatened the very existence of our firm. He’s lining up dead-weight acquisitions in a sector he has a historic regard for but which are non-growth areas. If he pursues the full breadth of his megalomaniacal vision, we will end up with years of political conflict with the FCC, executive, legislative, and judicial branches of government. He is making decisions for a future that he no longer understands. He’s gambling our last dollars at the track on a horse that’s ready for the glue factory. And I am calling for a vote of no confidence in him as CEO and Chairman.”

Silence.

Frank cleared his throat, shifting in his chair. “Logan, since you’re the subject of the vote, you need to recuse yourself.”

Logan let out a sharp breath through his nose, shaking his head. “Bullshit. No.”

Frank hesitated. “That’s… not how this works.”

“Fuck you. I built this place,” Logan snapped. “If you want to stab me in the back, you’ll do it to my face.”

Ewan whistled lowly, amused.

“You don’t get to vote, and you don’t get to comment,” Frank said, steadier now. “Really, you should leave the room.”

Logan’s gaze cut through him like a blade.

“I’m sick,” he muttered. “Can’t move. Fuck that. Vote.”

Frank exhaled sharply, but he let it go. “Alright. All in favor of the vote of no confidence in Logan Roy?”

Kendall’s voice didn’t waver. “Me. My hand is raised. More in sorrow than in anger.”

Logan scoffed, low and derisive. “No shit, Judas.”

Frank’s hand went up. Then Asha. Then Ilona, her voice cutting through on speakerphone.

Marla felt Logan’s stare before she met it. That gaze piercing, amused, waiting.

She had made her choice long before stepping into this room, but somehow, lifting her hand felt heavier than expected.

Still, she did.

Logan exhaled, the sound almost like a chuckle.

Marla didn’t dare look at Roman, but she noticed the way he tensed through her peripheral vision. It was like he wanted to nudge her, like he was about to say something but thought better of it.

Stewy surprisingly abstained. Marla thought him and Kendall were close, at the very least friends, so she made a mental note to ask Stewy about his vote later. Datu voted for Logan.

Four for. Four against.

Kendall’s voice was tight now. “Lawrence?”

Lawrence didn’t even hesitate. “I abstain.”

Marla felt it before Kendall did. The loss settling in, slow and suffocating.

And then, it was Roman.

Marla turned her head slightly, catching him in the corner of her vision. He was leaning back, trying to look unaffected, but his knee bounced under the table.

“Roman?” Kendall’s voice crackled through the Polycom.

Marla saw the flicker of hesitation in Roman’s hand, the start of a movement.

Logan clocked it too. His eyes locked on his youngest son.

“You better be smelling your fucking armpit, Romulus.”

The moment stretched, thin as a wire.

Roman let out a breath and lowered his hand.

“Against,” he said.

A beat.

Frank’s brow furrowed. “But he started to vote–”

“He can fucking change,” Logan snapped.

Marla didn’t move, didn’t let herself react, but Roman’s gaze had fallen upon her, he seemed embarrassed. 

To be completely fair, Marla didn’t whole-heartedly care about the results of the vote. She was there as an attempt to get back in, become a part of the scene. 

However she did understand what Roman had just done. How he had betrayed his brother. 

“Whatever. Count him out. Deadlock! Continuity prevails. I’m chairman, casting vote, I win, it’s fucking over!”

Kendall stepped into the room too late, the failure settling over him like a second skin.

“My son,” he said, smug and sharp. “You lost.”

Logan leaned back, victorious. “And Kendall, Frank, Asha, Ilona. Off the board. Fired, with immediate effect.”

Frank stiffened. “I’m not sure you can—”

“Fuck you. I can do anything.”

Marla exhaled, barely audible.

The minute Logan started yelling, calling for security, she stopped paying attention. She heard a little bit of Frank trying to convince Logan of this being a stupid idea but he didn’t budge. One by one, they start to leave. Kendall doesn’t look back. Asha glances around, like she still can’t believe what just happened. Frank exhales sharply, but doesn’t argue. 

Marla stands too, slow, measured. She’s almost at the door when—

“Not you.”

The words hit the room like a snap of a whip.

After a while, the rest of the people continued to exit the meeting, Marla stopped. So did Roman, halfway to the door. He looked back, eyebrows raised, but Logan didn’t even glance at him. The others hesitated for half a second before heading out, leaving Marla standing there, arms loosely crossed, amusement flickering behind her eyes.

Roman let out a low chuckle as he pushed the door open. “Well. That’s interesting.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

The silence that followed was thick and expectant. Marla tilted her head slightly, watching Logan as he leaned back in his chair, expression unreadable.

She arched an eyebrow. “Are you mad at me, Mr Roy?”, she said sarcastically.

Logan exhaled sharply through his nose, a laugh, but not quite. He gestured for her to sit.

“Sit down.”

Marla didn’t move at first, just studied him, like she was considering whether this was worth her time. On the inside she was frightened. Had she pushed too far on her luck? Was this the end of the adventure she’d just started? When accepting to help Kendall she thought there would be no actual consequences since she thought she would not care. That was before she realised how much she enjoyed playing the game, the scheming, the expectations. She loved the attention, the thrill. It was at this moment that Marla understood the gambling addicts, it’s hard to walk out when you know that some right moves could guarantee you power. She hoped this was an opportunity for her to make those moves.  

Logan’s eyes didn’t leave her.

She smiled, containing her thoughts. “So. What’s this about?”

Logan didn’t answer right away. He just watched her, the way a hunter might watch a fox that had wandered into his trap. Marla didn’t flinch, though her fingers twitched slightly against the armrest of her chair. She forced herself to stay relaxed, to match his energy.

Finally, Logan let out a small, unimpressed huff. “You don’t give a fuck, huh?”

Marla shrugged. “Not particularly.”

Logan’s lip curled. “You voted for Kendall.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

She leaned back, stretching her legs out slightly. “He asked nicely.”

Logan laughed, low and incredulous. “He asked nicely.” He shook his head, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Jesus Christ, you’re a piece of work.”

Marla didn’t reply, just met his gaze evenly. 

“You’re a smart girl,” he said, quieter now, almost amused. “Too smart to be backing a loser.”

Marla smirked. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like an underdog.”

“Bullshit.” Logan’s voice was sharp again. “I have known you since you were barely a teenager. You have that drive inside of you. You like to win.”

Marla tilted her head, considering. “Sure. But I like to play more.”

Something flickered in Logan’s eyes, recognition, maybe, or something close to it. He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. “So why bet on Kendall? You know the minute you step outside, he’ll be on the phone, offering you a job. That’s not exactly taking risks.”

Marla didn’t hesitate. “It’s more so a strategy.”

Logan narrowed his eyes.

She gave him a small, knowing smile. “If both sides want you, you’re playing the game right.”

A beat of silence. Then Logan let out a low, dry chuckle.

“You’re a cocky little shit,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You remind me of—” He cut himself off, the thought unfinished.

Marla did not dare to ask him who she reminded him of. 

“You want a real bet?” He leaned back again, like he had all the time in the world. “Stay. Work for me.”

Marla arched an eyebrow. “Doing what? You know I have a steady job at my mum’s law firm.”

“Ha! You can threaten me with Kendall’s offer but not with your mothers. I want you as a financial officer. Numbers, strategy, real decisions. You’d rather play the game than watch from the stands, right?”

Marla kept her expression carefully neutral, but her pulse quickened.

This was it. The right move.

She exhaled through her nose, as if considering it, but the answer had already formed in her mouth.

“Glad to be part of the family again.”

Logan smirked.

────୨ৎ────

Marla stepped out of Logan’s office, the weight of his offer still settling in her chest. She had won something tonight. What exactly, she wasn’t sure yet. But it was something. The tension in her shoulders hadn’t quite left when she heard a slow, deliberate clap from the hallway.

She turned, already knowing who it was.

Roman stood leaned against the wall, hands stuffed in his pockets, watching her with that lazy, knowing smirk.

“Well, well, well. Marla Carranza did show up for little Kenny after all,” he drawled. “Back from the dead and already on her knees for my dad. That’s gotta be a record.”

Marla huffed a laugh, stepping closer. “Bold words, coming from the guy who actually sucked him off at the meeting.”

Roman’s expression didn’t shift, but something flickered in his eyes. His smirk widened, but it didn’t quite reach them.

“Oh, please, if I were blowing my dad, you think I’d still be junior puppet boy with a fake title?” He tsked, tilting his head. “Nice try, though.”

She crossed her arms. “You’re a traitor, Roman.”

His jaw twitched, so quick she almost missed it. “Yeah?”

“Kendall trusted you. The whole vote was on you. You could’ve changed everything.”

Roman scoffed, shifting his weight. “Oh, fuck off. What were we gonna do, huh? Let Ken win and all hold hands? My dad would’ve burned this place down before he let that happen.”

Marla studied him, the amusement in her expression dimming slightly. “You’re so scared of him.”

Roman didn’t flinch. “And you’re not?”

She didn’t answer.

He exhaled through his nose, glancing away for a moment before looking back at her. “So what’s the play, huh? You got voted out, and now you’re just gonna… what? Lurk around Waystar?”

She smiled, slow and sharp. “Not quite.”

Something in her tone made Roman’s eyes narrow.

“What?”

She made a mockingly wounded face. “Oh, Rome. I thought you’d be happy.”

Roman frowned, his mouth parting slightly before he caught himself.

“Wait, what the fuck did my dad tell you?”

Her smile widened.

“See you around, Roman.”

She turned, walking away before he could piece it together. She didn’t have to look back to know he was staring after her.

By the time Marla reached the elevators, her phone buzzed in her pocket.

She pulled it out, glancing at the screen, immediately noticing Kendall’s name at the top.

She’d expected a call.

“Hey Ken.”

“Hey,” Kendall said, his voice lighter than she expected. “So… you coming over?”

Marla frowned slightly, stepping into the elevator and pressing the button for the lobby. “For what?”

Kendall let out a small huff, like the answer should’ve been obvious. “To talk. To figure shit out.”

She didn’t respond immediately.

He took her silence as agreement. “Listen, it’s good, okay? We regroup. You, me, Frank—whoever’s left. It’s not over. My dad just pulled a bullshit move, but it’s fine. I’m not letting him cut me out. We’ll fight back.”

She leaned against the cool metal wall, tilting her head slightly. “Kendall…”

“You’re with me, right?” he pressed. “I mean, he obviously didn’t…” He hesitated for half a second, but Marla caught it. “uh…he didn’t take you back, so…”

So you have nowhere else to go.

It wasn’t cruel. He didn’t mean it that way. It was just a fact, in his mind.

Marla smiled to herself.

“Oh, Ken.”

Something in her tone made him pause. “…What?”

She shifted her weight, watching the numbers above the elevator door tick down. “I actually don’t think I can make it.”

Silence.

Then a quiet, confused laugh. “What? Marla, come on, I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

Another pause. Then, slower now: “Where are you?”

She exhaled, straightening up as the elevator slowed to a stop. “Still at Waystar.”

She let it sink in.

Kendall didn’t speak right away. When he did, his voice was different: lower, tight.

“No, you’re not.”

Marla stepped out into the lobby, heels clicking softly against the marble floor.

“Your dad offered me a job.”

Silence.

“And I took it.”

Then, a sharp breath. “You took the…” Kendall stopped himself. Then, incredulous: “He fucking gave you a job?”

“Sure did.”

A bitter laugh. “No, he…he’s just screwing with you.”

“Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe I just played my cards right.”

“Marla.” His voice dropped, something urgent in it now. “He’s using you.”

She smiled, sharp and knowing.

“So were you.”

That shut him up.

She adjusted the strap of her purse. “I’ll see you around, Ken.”

She hung up before he could say anything else.

Stepping out into the cold night air, she let the satisfaction settle in her chest.

This was going to be fun.

────୨ৎ────

Marla stood outside the Carranza home, cigarette balanced between her fingers, the cold biting at the edges of her exposed skin. The house was warm in the way all family homes were on tv shows, lit up, welcoming, but it didn’t feel lived in; like it was just a cardboard set that appeared every time her family wanted to get together. She hesitated before going in, taking another long drag.

Inside, she could already hear the faint hum of conversation, the clinking of dishes. The Carranzas never fully celebrated Thanksgiving—too British for it to feel natural, too accustomed to absorbing other people’s traditions to ignore it completely. Her mother thought it was sweet, so she took it as an opportunity for the family to get together. The Carranza’s were not many. They were a family of immigrants, spread all around the globe. So this Thanksgiving event was more so a nostalgic family dinner held in order for Vivian to get a sense of control over Marla and her sister, it helped her feel like they still had an actual relationship. 

She snuffed the cigarette out against the stone railing and stepped inside.

The smell of roasted something filled the house. Probably turkey, though it could just as easily be chicken, knowing her mother’s passive disdain for unnecessary effort. Her father was sitting in the living room, watching a baseball match. He greeted her rapidly, not paying her much attention as she made her way towards the kitchen. 

Vivian Carranza was exactly where Marla expected her to be, standing near the dining table, adjusting the placement of plates that had already been set. Always curating, always fine-tuning.

“Marla,” her mother greeted without turning, her voice smooth and precise. “You’ve been smoking.”

“Uh… hey mom.”

“You know I hate the smell of cigarettes?” The woman was still not looking at her. “Is that why you smoke? Just to piss me off?

Vivian finally looked up, taking her in. Marla recognized the once-over immediately, the slow, appraising look of a woman taking inventory. The dress, the posture, the way she carried herself. Then, as if it were nothing, her mother went back to adjusting the silverware.

“I… Uh…” Marla, usually witty, would’ve come up with a fast insult to share back. However, she’d always been weak when it came to her mother. 

“You looked lovely at the Recny Ball,” Vivian said, casual but pointed.

Marla didn’t answer right away. She moved to the sideboard, pouring herself a drink. “You watched?”

“Of course. People talk.”

She meant her people. Executives, investors, old money, new money. People who noticed when someone like Marla Carranza suddenly started showing up in the picture.

Her mother’s gaze flickered over her again. Then:

“Am I losing an employee?”

It was said lightly, almost absentmindedly. Almost.

Marla took a sip of her drink. “You’d be the first to know.”

“That’s not an answer.”

She smiled, just a little. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The hum of the house filled the silence, the scrape of a chair against the floor.

Vivian finally sighed, more thoughtful than annoyed. “I know you, Marla. You’re a selfish person. You don’t step into something like this unless there’s something to be gained.”

Marla exhaled through her nose, letting the moment stretch before tilting her glass toward her mother. “And here I thought we were just conversing about our future plans. Didn’t know we’d get all… I don’t know, discussing morality and shit.” 

Vivian huffed a small laugh, shaking her head before turning back to the table. “It’s impossible to have a conversation with you. You know that right?”

Marla didn’t disagree. She had barely settled into the corner of the kitchen with her drink when her father appeared in the doorway, his presence announced by the subtle creak of the floorboards. Edmund Carranza was a man who carried the weight of experience in the slight hunch of his shoulders and the sharpness of his eyes, always watching, always calculating, but with an ease that made him seem almost harmless. Almost.

“You made it through the first round,” he said, nodding toward where Vivian was still fussing over the table. “Congratulations.”

Marla smirked. “Felt like a final boss fight.”

Edmund chuckled as he made his way to the sideboard, pouring himself a whiskey. He gestured toward her glass. “You drinking anything decent, or just trying to get through the evening?”

“I can multitask,” she said, taking a sip.

He leaned against the counter, watching her. “So,” he started, dragging the word out like he was about to tell her some big secret. “Tell me about the Roys.”

Marla raised a brow. “That’s vague.”

“I like to start broad.”

She exhaled, rolling the glass between her fingers. “What do you want to know?”

“Well,” he said, “I got a call from an old associate—one of mine who’s done some legal work here and there. Apparently, Tom Wambsgans reached out for help with a little… situation.”

Marla didn’t react outwardly, but she felt a flicker of something, curiosity, maybe. “The guy who’s with Shiv?” Marla didn’t know much about Tom but she was intrigued by him. After all, agreeing to marry into a family like that took some balls. 

Edmund nodded, taking a slow sip of his drink. “Doesn’t seem like the type to go around making enemies, but then again, the company he keeps…” He let the sentence trail off, watching her carefully.

Marla scoffed. “If you’re looking for some grand conspiracy, I don’t have one for you. I don’t know the guy, plus I’m barely in the picture.”

Edmund tilted his head, unconvinced. “Is that so? Because from what I hear, you’ve been popping up in all the right places.Your mother told me about the Recny Ball. I looked it up. Quite a nice event, but the most interesting part, to me at least, was that you were seen speaking to a Mr Kendall Roy that evening. Didn’t know you guys were friends again.”

Marla tensed just slightly at the mention of Kendall, but she didn’t give her father the satisfaction of a reaction. “I just know how to network.”

“Clearly.” He let out a small chuckle, then glanced toward the living room, where the faint sound of the baseball game hummed in the background. “Just be careful, Marla. They’re eating each other alive over there.”

Marla hummed noncommittally, taking another sip. “Good thing I’m not on the menu, then.”

Edmund gave her a look, one that said you might think that, but let’s see how long it lasts.

Before he could say anything else, a door creaked open from down the hall, followed by the sound of footsteps. Marla didn’t need to turn to know her sister had finally arrived.

She set her glass down, straightened her coat. “I should get going.”

Edmund’s brows lifted. “Already?”

“I was only staying for a bit.”

Vivian appeared in the doorway, arms crossed. “Running off before Sarah even gets to say hello?”

Marla flashed a quick, almost apologetic smile. “I’ll make it up to her.”

Neither parent looked entirely pleased, but neither stopped her as she grabbed her bag and headed for the door.

As she stepped outside, Marla decided to light up another cigarette, now that she was allowed to do so. 

She took a slow drag, exhaling into the cold night air as she walked down the quiet street, waiting for her chauffeur who said he was just around the corner. Her family’s house faded behind her, just another warm, distant glow in the dark.

Then, her phone buzzed again in her palm.

She glanced at the screen. 

Roman Roy.

She hesitated for a second before answering, “Hello?”

She barely had time to register the shaky exhale on the other end before Roman’s voice hit her, fast and uneven.

“Hey. Can I come over?”

Marla stopped in her tracks. “What?”

Roman exhaled, something shaky and uneven about it. “Can I come over to like… your fucking apartment, or whatever.” He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, as if they had spoken yesterday, as if she was an actual part of his world.

Marla frowned, flicking ash from her cigarette. “You don’t even know where I live.”

“So tell me.”

“Roman.”

“What?”

“This is weird.”

She could hear him scoff, the rustling of fabric, the distinct sound of movement like he was pacing. “Oh, sorry, am I breaching protocol? What, do I need to fill out a fucking Google forms before I can see you?”

Marla smirked slightly, but there was an underlying wariness in her expression. “Something like that.”

There was another pause. Then, in a voice that was almost too casual: “Whatever. Fuck it.”

Marla exhaled through her nose, watching smoke curl in the air. “You good?”

“Great.”

“You sound great.”

“Oh, do I? Thanks, babe. That’s what I was going for.”

His voice was off, not his usual brand of flippant, but something looser, more erratic. His words were coming too fast, too sharp at the edges.

Marla leaned against a lamppost, glancing at her reflection in a nearby shop window. “Are you drunk?”

“Nope.”

“High?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

“Nothing. Just thought, you know, it’s Thanksgiving, everyone’s doing their little family traditions, and I—oh wait, you wouldn’t know about that, would you? Since you guys are all tea and crumpets or whatever the fuck.”

Marla rolled her eyes. “Wow. Racist.”

“Yeah, yeah, add it to my list of sins.”

She let the silence stretch, waiting for him to fill it. He did.

“So, uh, did you hear about the turkey movie?”

Marla frowned. “What?”

“The fucking turkey movie. Waystar Studios produced it. I- I fucking advised against it because it’s so shit. But well, fuck it’s making insane numbers, Marla. It’s breaking records. Humanity is a disease.”

Marla let out a small, surprised laugh. “Oh my god.”

“Not funny. Don’t laugh.”

“I mean… it’s kind of funny.”

“Fuck you, actually.”

She laughed again, but softer this time. “I won’t watch it. Solidarity.”

Roman didn’t say anything for a second. Then:

“Good.”

He wasn’t giving her anything real, but something was off. His voice was sharp, words coming too fast.

“Rome, what’s wrong?” she asked, her tone genuine.

“Nothing. Just… my girlfriend dumped me.”

Marla blinked. “What?”

“Or, no, actually, I dumped her. Because she liked the turkey movie.”

Marla almost laughed, but then she realized he was serious. “That’s… not a reason to break up with someone.”

“No, see, it is. Because she didn’t just ‘like’ it. She fucking… She sat there, looked me in the eyes, and said it was ‘actually good.’ And I…” He made a choked sound, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. 

“You’re mad because you think you know better than her, and she undermined your little masculine genius” Marla was being sarcastic, a critique, but Roman took it as some sort of support of his perspective.

“See?” he muttered. “I mean, I knew it was bad, right? But then everyone starts fucking talking about it, like, ‘Oh, it’s actually just some entertainment for kids, it doesn’t need a message, blah blah’ No. It’s garbage.”

Marla smirked. “Hot garbage.” 

“Exactly.”

She could practically hear his shoulders unclench, just slightly. Like all he needed was someone to confirm he wasn’t crazy.

Marla remembered their high school days, both the most active members of the school’s film club. She loved it when Roman got passionate about why he loved, or hated, a movie. She couldn’t get mad at his pretentiousness when he was attacking her with nostalgia.

Then, out of nowhere, he muttered, “Also, Greg’s a fucking idiot.”

Marla blinked. “Who the hell is Greg?”

“My fucking… stupidly tall cousin.”

“And why is he important?”

“Exactly.”

She chuckled, but before she could say anything, his voice dipped, just slightly.

“And my dad’s fucking losing it.”

Marla’s expression shifted, amusement fading. “What?”

“He’s getting old and crazy and… I don’t know. It’s bad.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, so she didn’t say anything.

After a moment, Roman inhaled sharply, like he had just made a decision. “Hey. Come to the board meeting on Tuesday.”

Marla hesitated. “Oh… I-”

“Just, be there. Vote with us. Uh… me and Kendall. We’re pushing him out.”

Marla’s lips parted slightly, surprised.

“Rome… Kendall already called me.”

Silence.

Then, his voice dropped into something colder. “What?”

“He asked me yesterday.”

Roman let out a breath, half-laugh, half-scoff. “Of fucking course he did.”

“Roman—”

“No, it’s great. It’s just great. Love this for me.”

Marla sighed, sensing the shift. “It’s not—”

“No, it’s fine, really. You and Kendall and your little backroom deals, probably smoking weed together, that’s cute. Did you guys braid each other’s hair too? Swap friendship bracelets? Fucking adorable.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Don’t be a dick.”

“Cool. No, really. I’ll just… keep being the last one to know everything. Not like I give a shit.”

“Roman-”

Marla’s answer was a persistent beep. 

He hung up.

She stared at her phone for a long second, then sighed, tossing her cigarette onto the pavement and crushing it beneath her boot.

────୨ৎ────

Stewy’s whistle was low, appreciative, and just a little smug. “Marla Carranza.” His eyes flicked down the length of her dress before he leaned in for a hug, the scent of expensive cologne clinging to him. “Kendall told me you were coming, but I didn’t believe him at all.”

Marla was wearing a dark grayish blue dress with a V-neckline that showed off just the right amount of cleavage. She’d gotten real pretty for this. Her first time seeing the family after such a long time, she had to leave a great impression. 

Marla let out a soft laugh, taking a slow sip of her champagne. “Yeah, honestly, I’m still surprised I accepted his… uh, invite.” 

“Ah, see, that’s what I love about you, Marla. Always full of bad decisions.” His grin was sharp, teasing, but there was an undercurrent of something else, something closer to curiosity.

Marla and Stewy had met during her internship at Waystar, when she became friends with Kendall, which entailed her partying every weekend at different high-end bars and clubs. 

Stewy and Marla hit it off immediately. Stewy was a flirty guy, and there was nothing Marla found more fun than being able to flirt back without consequences. Of course, they did date for a while but it was nothing really serious. They both knew that.

She raised a brow. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Absolutely.”

The two of them stood at the edge of the gala, away from the cameras, the polished floor glinting beneath the chandeliers. The room was buzzing with business talk. On the opposite corner of the room, Marla recognised Connor, who appeared to be yelling at a server, clearly stressed out. She’d never really connected with him like she’d done with the rest of the Roys, mainly due to him being sort of an outsider inside both the family and the company. And what benefit would Marla obtain from buddying up with the interloper? Marla was always thinking about the benefit. 

Stewy followed her gaze, scoffing softly. “Poor guy. Always trying so hard to be relevant.”

Marla huffed a quiet laugh, though she couldn’t entirely disagree. Before she could say anything, she felt his eyes shift back to her, assessing. “You’re not like him,” he said, voice lower now, more deliberate. Like he’d been waiting for an opening. Like she was the most interesting thing in the room.

“I’m not so sure.” Marla turned her eyes back over to Stewy. “One might say I’m just as desperate for relevancy as Connor Roy is.”

Stewy shrugged. “At least you aren’t so obvious with it.” he swirled his drink. “So… you working for Logan now?”

Marla’s lips quirked into a knowing smile. “What makes you say that?”

“Because only people who work for Logan voluntarily walk into these fucking shark-infested waters.” His gaze sharpened. “And you don’t strike me as someone who came here just for the champagne.”

Marla held his stare, unblinking. “Maybe I just missed the family.”

That earned a quiet chuckle. “Right. And I’m here for the charity.” He tilted his head, assessing her like she was a stock on the rise. “So what’s your angle?”

She smirked. “I think I might just be trying too hard to be relevant.”

Stewy chuckled softly before leaning in just slightly. “I’ll say this, Marla—whatever you’re up to, you better be damn sure it’s worth it.”

There was no warning in his voice, just amusement, the kind that came from watching someone step into the lion’s den on purpose.

Marla just smiled, lifting her glass in an unbothered toast. “Cheers to bad decisions, then.”

Their glasses clinked, but before either could say another word, Stewy’s gaze flicked over her shoulder. His smirk widened, just a little.

“Well, well. Looks like you’ve got company.”

Marla turned just in time to see Shiv Roy approaching, alone. Behind her, Marla could grasp the image of her husband, whom she had only met in pictures, staring at Shiv’s back. 

Stewy exhaled, already taking a step back. “And that’s my cue to leave.”

“Coward,” Marla muttered.

“Strategist,” he corrected with a wink before slipping away, leaving her alone with Shiv.

And just like that, the air shifted.

Effortlessly poised, champagne flute in hand, she moved with the kind of confidence that came from knowing she was the smartest person in the room, or at least believing she was. The moment Marla locked eyes with her, it became clear: this wasn’t just a casual hello.

Marla straightened her posture, letting a slow smile curve her lips. “Why, hello Shiv.”

Shiv’s red lips parted into something that resembled a smile, but there was a sharpness to it. “Marla. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Didn’t expect to be here,” Marla replied easily, taking a sip of her drink. “But you know how it is, free booze, good lighting, rich men being miserable. Hard to say no.”

Shiv hummed, tilting her head slightly. “Right. And what exactly are you doing here?”

Straight to the point. Marla almost laughed. “Oh well, you know…” Marla played with the bracelet laying on her wrist. The situation made her nervous. She had always been intimidated by Shiv, even when they’d been best friends. “Wanted to see the um… new steps of the company. I am a board member after all.”

Shiv’s gaze flickered over her, quick and assessing. Sizing her up. Then, as if remembering something, she let out a soft chuckle. “God. Kendall must be feeling sentimental.”

Marla’s brows furrowed. “Is that what you think this is?”

“Isn’t it?” Shiv countered smoothly. “You show up after, what? Years? And suddenly, you’re sitting at his table, looking…” Her eyes swept over Marla’s dress, a flicker of something unreadable in her expression. “…expensive.”

Marla smiled, unbothered. “Oh but I always look like this. Don’t you remember Shivvy?”

Shiv’s lips pressed together, amusement barely masking the tension beneath. For a second, she looked like she might push further, ask more, dig deeper. And for a moment, Marla thought she might actually say something real.

After all, this was Shiv. Her Shiv. The girl she used to share cigarettes with outside of shitty college parties, both of them cackling about which idiot was going to fail the next exam. The one she stayed up with in their dorm, ranting about boys and family and futures that were supposed to be theirs for the taking.

But that was a long time ago.

And now, here they were, talking like strangers with knives behind their backs.

“I should go find Tom.” Shiv finally let her gaze move from Marla’s eyes, hesitating before doing so, something unspoken in her expression. “But it was… uh, nice seeing you Marla.”

“Nice seeing you too.” Marla had turned back to the table, taking out her phone before she suddenly overheard Kendall’s voice from behind her.

“Hey Shiv.”

“Nice work, bro.”

Marla barely turned her head as Kendall slid into view, noticing how Shiv’s lips were already curling into a smirk.

Kendall blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

Shiv took a slow sip of her drink, nudging towards the blonde girl sitting at the same table as Marla. “Fucking the talent.”

Kendall’s face barely shifted, but something in his posture stiffened. “Hey, come on.”

“No, it’s okay,” Shiv continued, voice light but razor-sharp. “You’re fucking ATN. ATN is fucking me. It’s a little clusterfuck.”

Marla watched Kendall’s jaw tighten. 

“But hey! Marla is here too! Maybe you can turn it into a threesome.” Shiv winked at him, but before he could respond, she was already turning away, leaving him standing there like a misplaced chess piece.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face before his eyes finally landed on Marla.

“Marla,” he said, slow and careful, like he was testing the weight of her name after all these years.

Marla tilted her head, her smirk softening just a fraction. “Kendall.”

A beat of silence. He blinked, almost like he didn’t believe she was real.

“You…” He exhaled, shaking his head. “Holy shit. You’re actually here.”

Marla let out a soft chuckle, swirling the champagne in her glass. “Yeah well, you practically begged me to make an appearance tonight.”

“Yeah.” Kendall laughed. “I did… uh, have you met my date?” He pointed towards the blonde girl that Shiv had referred to just a moment ago. 

“Anna Newman.” Her voice was sweet, but she seemed bored. She extended her hand and Marla took it, a sympathetic smile on her face. 

“Marla Carranza.”

“Have you… uh, been having a good time?” Kendall directed the question towards Anna, sitting down as he did so. 

“Yeah. Uh… It’s been lovely.” She displayed what was clearly a fake smile on her face. “Thanks.”

“I’m glad.” Kendall turned around to look at Marla now. “So… how are you, uh, feeling about Tuesday?”

“I already told you. I’m fully team Kenny.”

“Yeah, no, I know. It’s just I’ve… I’m a little bit nervous about this whole thing.”

“Rightfully so. You’re kinda going to murder your dad.”

Kendall’s smile grew. “Hey, don’t say that.” Marla simply hummed as an answer. 

Before Marla could answer, Connor suddenly appeared, his energy frayed at the edges, lowering himself to Kendall’s height. "Hey, uh, Ken? Need to talk."

Kendall barely looked at him. "Yeah, what’s up?"

“Wait, Marla? How have things been going?” Marla wished Connor hadn’t realised she was there. This many reencounters in a night were giving her a headache.

“It’s been good.”

“So sorry about the butter.” Connor turned his attention back over to Kendall, leaving Marla confused and with no space to ask what was wrong with the butter. “Yeah so, apparently dad’s going to be doing the speech now, so late change of plans, I hope that’s cool.”

Kendall stood up in surprise, blinking. 

“What?”

“Well, yeah, he just said. I guess that put a spoke in quite a few wheels, huh?”

“Con. Con.” Kendall’s voice was laced with worry as he stopped Connor from leaving. “He’s in no fit state.” “Gotta go backstage.” Connor touched his shoulder before leaving, Kendall following after him.

Marla barely had a second to process Kendall’s abrupt exit before a voice cut in from her right, dry and unmistakably amused.

“Holy shit. It’s alive.”

She didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

He dropped into the chair beside her like he owned it, all loose limbs and careless confidence, eyeing her over the rim of his drink.

“Did they roll out a red carpet for you, or did you just claw your way back in? Either way, congrats. You’re like a very sexy cockroach.”

Marla let out a slow breath, turning toward him at last. Roman looked the same, somehow both sharp and disheveled, suit slightly wrinkled like he’d just rolled out of someone else’s bed.

Her lips quirked. “That was almost a compliment.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to add the part where I’m deeply, profoundly unsettled by your presence.” He gestured vaguely at her dress. “But you do look… hot, so at least there’s that.”

Marla rolled her eyes, lifting her glass in mock gratitude. “Gee, thanks, Rome.”

He smirked. “Mm. That’s what I do. Boost female confidence. I’m basically the Gloria Steinem of billionaire failsons.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Where’s your date? Assuming you have one.”

Roman clicked his tongue, glancing briefly at the crowd. “Oh, she was here. You just missed her.”

His tone was deliberately vague, leaving room for interpretation. 

Marla raised a brow. “Uh-huh. Did she happen to be… a real person?”

“Define real.” He grinned. “Like, did she have a pulse? Was she tax-paying? Did she have a deep and meaningful relationship with her father? Some of those answers are yes.”

Marla smirked, leaning in slightly. “So, translation: you scared her off.”

“I did not.” Roman’s hand fluttered to his chest in mock offense. 

“Let me guess, she just had an urgent appointment? With a car? Going far away from you?” He shrugged. “Classic.”

“Are you projecting right now?” Roman cocked his head, eyes glinting. “What’s your deal here? You back for good? Or just here to haunt us like some terribly-fuckable poltergeist?”

Marla took a slow sip of her drink. “Why? You worried?”

Roman grinned. “Worried? No. Turned on? Only in a deeply concerning, self-loathing kind of way.”

Marla exhaled a short laugh, her gaze steady. Roman was always like this, always pushing, always performing. But there was something in his eyes, beneath the smirk, that was watching her just as closely.

She set her glass down with a soft clink. “So, is this the part where you pretend you didn’t miss me?”

Roman made a face, feigning horror. “Oh God, was I supposed to? Shit. No one gave me the memo.” He leaned in, dropping his voice to a low stage whisper. “Wait, do you want me to say I did? Will that make you feel all warm and gooey inside?”

Marla hummed, tilting her head as if considering it. “I think I’d rather watch you squirm.”

Roman barked out a laugh. “Mar, please. If I could be rattled by you, I’d be dead already.”

She arched a brow. “Mmm. Keep telling yourself that.”

His grin twitched, just barely, like she’d brushed against something real. But then he was back on the offense, tilting his head, studying her with faux curiosity.

“So, then. Who lured you out of exile? Kenny?” His smirk widened. “Wait, no. You’re too smart for that. Shiv, then? Or…” his eyes flickered with amusement, “dear old dad?”

There it was. The real test.

Marla didn’t flinch. Instead, she smiled, slow and sharp. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Roman clicked his tongue, mock-disappointed. “Oof. That’s such a Shiv answer.” He gave her a once-over. “You two been trading notes? I saw you talking to her just minutes before.”

“Are you stalking me Rome?” If he would tease, you could tease back. “Are you jealous that I didn’t run immediately towards you?” Her words were biting, mocking him in a fake sadness. 

Roman clutched his chest. “Christ, Marla, do you want me to cry? Because I will. Right here. Full meltdown.”

She pretended to consider. “Would be entertaining.”

Roman pointed at her. “See, now that? That’s the kind of passive-aggressive ex-girlfriend energy I live for.”

Marla just took a sip of her drink, unbothered. “We never dated.”

“Oh, we so did.”

“No, we didn’t.”

“Okay, yeah, maybe not in the ‘we are boyfriend and girlfriend and we fuck’ sense, but, like…” He made a vague, circular motion with his drink. “We did things. We were things.”

Marla’s smile turned sharp. “Yeah, the things were...”

“Hey.” Kendall slipped back into his seat beside her, his expression tight, his energy off. He barely acknowledged them, eyes fixed ahead. Whatever conversation he’d just had, it hadn’t gone his way.

“Well, what happened to you, my dear brother?” Roman’s tone was, as most of the time, mocking.

“Business mogul. Philanthropist.” A guy had stood up in the center of the stage, excusing Kendall out of answering. “And the man whose name is at the top of my checks.”

“Seems like it’s time for your daddy’s speech” 

“Ew don’t call him my daddy.” Roman pretended to gag. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is my profound pleasure to introduce to you on this most auspicious occasion…”

Roman let out a loud mocking yawn as the guy kept talking. 

“... the man, the legend: Logan Roy.”

“Wait, was it not supposed to be Kenny?” Roman finally sat down correctly, seemingly interested now.

“Do you care?” 

Roman tilted his head, considering her question. “I mean… not really. But I do love a good family betrayal. It’s like porn for me.”

Marla’s gaze drifted back to the stage, ignoring Roman’s comment as Logan took his place.

The applause was immediate, obedient.

Logan stood tall, his presence swallowing the room whole. Even the clinking of glasses quieted.

“Alright,” he said, tone clipped. “Let’s get on with it.”

A small chuckle rippled through the crowd, the kind that came from people desperate to be in on the joke. 

“Some personal news,” Logan went on, voice steady, measured. “Seems someone took advantage of me being in the hospital… to propose…”

At this point Logan was staring directly at Kendall, clearly taking a jab at him.

“To my daughter.”

A slight pause. A murmur in the crowd.

“So I’d like to take this opportunity to welcome her fiancé, Tom Wambsgans, to the family.” Logan’s eyes found Tom in the crowd, holding him there for a beat too long. “Welcome to the family, Tom.”

Polite applause. The sound of it made Marla’s teeth clench. 

Logan continued, shifting gears without missing a beat and Marla disassociated, moving in her chair to look at Shiv and her husband, who seemed even more uncomfortable than Kendall. “It’s so, so important that children are supported and encouraged.” His voice took on an almost thoughtful lilt. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for my children.”

Marla turned her head back at him, just slightly. And that’s when she caught it.

Logan’s eyes, cutting through the crowd, landing directly on her.

It was brief. A flicker. A fraction of a second too long to be accidental.

Then he moved on, as if she were nothing.

Marla’s fingers tightened around her glass.

Roman, watching her, let out a low chuckle. “Wow. That was something.”

Marla’s expression didn’t waver. “Was it?”

“Oh, definitely.” Roman tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “What do you think it meant?”

Marla did not know what Logan’s stare meant. Was it even important? Was it a hello? A ‘fuck you’? Or just some good old-fashioned ‘I see you, and I own you’ Roy-family mind games? 

It didn’t really matter, what was important was how she felt about it. 

And Marla liked it.

She didn’t care if it meant that Logan hated her. All she cared about was the fact that he had noticed. That she was important. 

Marla set down her drink with careful precision. “If you have to ask, you’ll never know.”

Roman let out a soft whistle, amused. “You really haven’t lost your touch.”

She turned, fully toward him now, resting her elbow on the table. “And you? Same old Roman? Still playing fool while the kingdom burns?”

He grinned, unfazed. “What can I say? I know my strengths.”

She studied him for a beat. “And your weaknesses?”

Roman’s smirk faltered—just for a second.

But Marla caught it.

────୨ৎ────

“‘Shit show at the fuck factory’” Marla chuckled as she scrolled through her phone, reading outloud the article’s title to her best friend Emma. “I wonder who came up with that.”

Best friend—if that’s what you’d call it. It seemed like the appropriate title since they spent most of their time together. However Marla did not especially like Emma, nor did she find her remarkable in any way. If it wasn’t for them working together, Marla would’ve never spoken to her in the first place.

“Aren’t you a little bit worried?” Emma asked as Marla munched on her salad. She turned her head towards her plate, admiring the little bubbles in the ceramic from the mistakes of the honest artisan who had made them by hand. They could never say Marla didn’t care for the environment. She’d bought all of her dishes from a local small business. Of course, she didn’t go and buy them herself, so she didn’t pick them. But she did ask specifically for blue plates. 

“I mean, I’m sure Waystar will pick itself up” she put her elbow up on the table. Emma eyed it and she immediately moved it down. Maybe that’s why Marla didn’t like her. She was a little bit too much like her mother.  “Besides, it’s not like I live off of the money I get as a board member. It’s mainly some extra cash.” 

“I was talking about Logan Roy’s health” Marla immediately let out a loud laugh, before realising she was being serious. Emma looked at her in confusion, still waiting for an answer.

“The old dinosaur? Sooner or later he was bound to die.” Marla picked up a tomato. “He’s been a thousand years old ever since I was 17”.

“He hasn’t died yet, I think he’s just in some sort of coma.” Marla shrugged at Emma’s expectant eyes. “Besides, weren’t you close at some point? I’m sorry, but didn’t he make your career?”

“Hey now! That’s incredibly undermining.” Marla faked her anger in a mocking way. She would’ve felt insulted if the words hadn’t come out of living-beige-wallpaper Emma. “Firstly, I was already a Nepo Baby before meeting Logan. Secondly, I was literally the smartest person during my promotion in college. I think I would’ve done pretty well without Logan.” She moved her fork around the lettuce before adding. “Probably would’ve been better to be honest. I’d be in a more leftist environment.” 

“Oh right. I forgot about your views.” Emma, just like the rest of the people working at her mother’s law firm, was incredibly right-leaning. Marla did enjoy their political debates together, as they diverged hugely from politics talk at home. Despite all of Emma’s similarities to Marla’s mother, Vivian Carranza was a proud communist. Marla never understood how she ended up creating a business such as this one, filled with republican employees. 

It had been her father who turned more to the left in what regarded his job. He had a really important-sounding position over at Pierce. It was the main reason why they moved over to New York from the UK. Which led to Marla meeting Roman Roy in her freshman year and becoming… Whatever Roman had considered her to be to him. 

What she still never understood is why Logan Roy had taken an interest in her during that summer she spent with the Roy family. Her father worked for Waystar’s némesis and, at the time Roman invited her over to spend the summer with him and his family, Shiv hated her. And even then she understood that Shiv was Logan’s favourite daughter. At least she was the one he nurtured the most. Maybe because she was a woman. Which confused her even further as Marla was one herself. 

Why had Logan picked her for the internship all those years ago? At the moment she had thought it was merely due to her intelligence but, knowing what she knows now, Marla understands that’s of no importance to Mr Roy. However, the main question that had been haunting her ever since the fateful day she finished college was why didn’t Logan offer her a position at Waystar? For many years she’d thought she had probably done something wrong. Until only a few days ago it was announced that Kendall Roy would not be CEO. 

Then she understood that Logan liked to play with people. He liked to play with possibilities. He had promised this to Kendall since he had been a kid. The boy was so sure that he’d be CEO of Waystar. Even when they’d been partying and Ken’s nose looked slightly white due to the cocaine residue, he’d brag about it. 

The moment she read online that Logan had decided to not give the position to Kendall she’d thought of getting back in contact with him. She ultimately chose not to though. It had been almost three years since she had even attended a Waystar board meeting, let alone talked to any of the Roys. And although Ken was the only one she’d ended on a good basis with, Marla thought if she messaged him she might seem pathetic. Like she wanted something from Ken. 

And she did.

Marla hated this fact, but she was self-aware enough to know it was true: she desires attention from the Roys. 

Life with them had been so interesting, so… unpredictable. Her mind always pondered upon whether or not any of the Roys were thinking about her. She wished they did. Especially, despite all of her efforts not to desire it, she hoped Roman was. 

She still thought about Roman. Of course she did. But she’d never face her feelings head on. In her conscious mind, for whatever reason, Marla promises she doesn’t care about him. 

People say avoidance is bad, but avoidance was Marla’s best friend, not the ditzy blonde girl she had in front of her. 

“How long is it going to take you to eat that salad?” Emma pulled her out of her thoughts. Marla finally turned to look at her surroundings. Emma’s plate was empty, god knows since when, but deducing from her bored face it had probably been a while.

“Oh, sorry.” She turned to look at her own plate, still more than half of her chickpea salad remaining. She moved her fork and picked up some crunchy lettuce before letting the fork fall on the dish again. “I don’t think I’m hungry anymore.”

“Well good. Does that mean we can leave”

Marla chuckled. “Yeah. It does mean we can leave.”

“I hope you explain to your mum that the reason we took so long on our lunch break was because you got too distracted over Logan Roy.” Emma said as they stood up from their chairs. 

“I did not get distracted over Logan Roy.” Emma shot her a look. “Maybe a little bit nostalgic but nothing more. Besides, you know my mum doesn’t give a fuck about how long we take on our break.”

"Still. We should get going.” They grabbed their bags from the sofa.

Marla was halfway to the door when she noticed Emma lagging behind, lips pursed like she was chewing on a thought.

“By the way,” Emma said after a beat, almost too casually, “you’ve never really told me anything about your time with the Roys.”

“Eh. It wasn’t that exciting.” Marla was good at lying. She had been lying her whole life after all. “Mainly business talk and tennis.”

“Oh come on!” Emma turned to her while she headed towards the elevator. “Everyone at Yale knew you and Siobhan Roy were bestest of friends. She probably gave you the juiciest gossip about her dad and family. I know there must be something wrong with them.” She said that last part more to herself than to Marla.

Sometimes Marla forgot Emma had also been to Yale. She’d never talked to her during her time as a college student. “Not really.” Lie. “She wasn’t that interesting.” Lie again. 

“Why did you guys stop talking to each other?” The elevator had already arrived but neither of them made any type of gesture that signaled they were going to enter it. 

“I’ve told you this before.” Marla hadn’t. Not really. She had maybe skimmed over the general occurrences but never went into detail. 

“Ah right. The coke thing with her brother.” Marla hummed in approval as she finally decided to call the elevator again. They waited in silence for it to arrive, Marla looked over to Emma who was playing a game on her phone. 

The elevator arrived but before they could go in, Marla’s phone vibrated in her bag.

Marla turned on her phone and checked the caller id. Surprised by the name that had popped up on the screen. She stared at it for a few seconds as she felt her heart starting to race. Why the fuck was Kendall Roy calling her?

“Speak of the devil.” She turned her head over to Emma who was looking directly at her screen. Marla was being again reminded of what a gossipy bitch she was. 

Marla couldn’t judge her on that though, as she was much more of a lover of the dramatics than Emma was, she could just hide it a little bit better. 

“I’m going to take this.” Emma sighed in an annoyed ‘really?’. “You can get going. I’ll get a cab.”

“Alright! See you later then.” She stepped inside the elevator. Before the doors closed, she added: “don’t forget to tell me all the deets about that call!”

“I will!” Marla gave her a fake smile. She wouldn’t. Their relationship wasn’t like that. She shifted her eyes back to the screen as she still debated whether to click the green or red button, suddenly realising that the call was over as it was left unanswered. 

Marla debated if she should call back. It was probably something important if he was calling her. Or maybe he just wanted to check in, getting suddenly hit by nostalgia. Perhaps, even better, Logan Roy had finally died. 

Before Marla could decide if she was calling him or not, a notification popped up on her screen and this time she clicked it immediately.

Kendall: Hey Marla.

Kendall: It’s been a while.

Marla felt confused as she looked at her screen. 

Kendall: How are you?

She stared at the message, aware that Kendall could see that she had read it. She began to type out a response but stopped when the typing symbol appeared from Kendall’s contact.

Kendall: I’m sorry there is no way I can make this not awkward. 

Kendall: Can I call you?

Marla thought about her answer. What could she message to an old friend she hadn’t seen in years? ‘Everything' s good! What about you? Also, yeah you can call me. It’s not like I have anything going on in my life right now.”

Marla: hey, i’m kinda busy right now.

Marla: what’s wrong?

Marla was NOT busy.

Kendall: It’s a bit of a sensitive topic. 

Kendall: I’d really prefer it if we could talk on a call.

Marla: alright

Marla: give me a few minutes

Marla walked over from the elevator to her room upstairs. She sat down on her bed, her back towards her closet as she stared at the huge window. 

New York was full of life; its intricacies had always delighted her. She found comfort in knowing that each car held someone else, each stranger wrapped up in their own world, their own struggles. It made her feel small, and sometimes, that was a relief.

But being small had never been enough. She always had to prove she was more than just another person in the crowd.

With that familiar urgency pressing against her ribs, she took a breath, then clicked the little phone icon beside Kendall’s name.

Kendall picked up immediately. 

“Uh… Hey” Marla hadn’t heard that voice in a long time. Deep and masculine, though Marla always sensed the undertones of doubt in his voice. Kendall was never good at making decisions. 

“Hey.”

“Long… time no see huh?”

“Yeah.” A small silence. Very uncomfortable, though it didn’t last long. “Although technically we aren’t seeing each other so…”

“Oh. Would you rather talk this over facetime or something? Because I can call you from there right now.”

“Oh no, don’t worry.” Kendall was always so accelerated. He was similar to Roman in that way. “It was just a joke.”

“Oh. Ha ha. I get it.” Another uncomfortable silence. 

“So…” 

“And…”

They both spoke at the same time, laughing it off. 

“Uh… you go first.” Marla said. She was smiling despite Kendall not being able to see her. Probably muscle memory from all the years having to ease off awkwardness with her pretty face.

“Um… Honestly, I don’t know how to tell you this but…” Marla could hear a gulp in Kendall’s throat. “I’m going after my father.” 

Another silence but this time it wasn’t awkward. It was heavy. 

“Uh… hello?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“My dad… He’s back in the office.”

“You mean he’s out of his… uh…coma?”

“Yeah.” 

Marla silently fucked her shitty algorithm that showed her the news days after they aired. 

“And,” Marla made the a sound especially long. “you want to do what to him? to your old, vulnerable, aging father?” Marla didn’t really care about Logan, she just liked teasing Kendall.

“I mean… I, uh, of course I love him. He’s my, uh, my dad you know?”

“I know.”

“But… you said it yourself. He’s fucking old.”

“Old as shit.”

Kendall chuckled. “Yeah. Old as shit.”

“So what’re you going to do to him?” 

Marla had always been blunt. The charm was something she had to learn as she grew and realised that there were certain behaviours she had to adopt if she wanted to get her way. However this time, she didn’t really care. The conversation had rapidly turned less uncomfortable, reminding Marla of her not-so-old times with Kendall.

“Uh… There’s no better way to put this.” He let out a small laugh. “I want to fuck him over.”

“Okaaay…” 

“I know it sounds bad but-”

“Honestly fair. I wanted to call you after I found out about the whole… you not being CEO thing.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah… I didn’t because… To be honest I don’t know why I didn’t”

“Yeah no, I get it. I had to gather up all my courage to call you right now.” Marla laughed a little. “It was weird right? How we just faded away from each other.”

“It was kinda weird.”

“Like, I never understood what happened between you and uh… Roman, but it makes sense that you aren’t talking.” It was Marla’s turn to gulp. “He’s an asshole honestly.” Now Marla gifted him with a louder laugh, but this one was fake. She just figured it was the best answer to that. “And uh… the whole Shiv thing happened and that... Uh… I’m sorry about it by the way.”

“Not your fault.”

“Yeah well… kinda.”

Marla didn’t want to keep talking about this. She knew why they’d grown apart: that shit happens. Was it kinda sad? Marla didn’t like to think about that.

“Yeah um… why did you call me again?” 

“Oh right, so uh… I’m planning a board vote against my dad staying as CEO. You know, because he’s uh… old and everything.”

“And everything.”

“Ha ha yeah. So uh… I was hoping you’d vote in my favour”

Marla stopped for a second before talking. She knew Kendall always had this thing against his dad’s antics. However this seemed ruthless. When Logan had cut her off she had left. Marla was usually a fighter, but that time pride got the best of her and she escaped. Kendall was fighting. 

Before she could answer, Kendall added, “I know it’s kinda… uh… evil? perhaps? I know he’s my uh… father and everything. But Marla, you must understand. Waystar needs this- I… uh…. I need this. I know you don’t really enjoy going to board meetings but… Uh, when my father announced I wasn’t going to-”

“Kenny” Marla interrupted him. “Of course I’ll vote in your favour.”

“Really?” She could feel the excitement in his voice. She could hear his smile. 

“When is this vote taking place?”

“On Tuesday.”

“Alright see you then.”

“Marla you… you don’t know how much this means to me.”

“Yeah, yeah. You can pay me back later, don’t worry.”

“No, really. I’m standing up. Glad to know I have your support.” Marla understood how Kendall felt and she valued his courage. Logan Roy is a scary man. However, most of all, Marla liked the fact that she was getting involved again. She had stopped going to board meetings on one part out of laziness, on the other because she felt pathetic going there; knowing that she wasn’t a real part of the staff, just another stock owner. Besides, it had been nice to finally get rid of Roman’s haunting stare. 

Despite all of this, she had been longing to get involved. This petition from Kendall had appeared as an angel in the form of an excuse to be a player of the game again. 

“I, uh, I also wanted to invite you…” Kendall spoke again. “There’s this gala that’s happening on Sunday. I’m… it’s actually the first time I’m speaking as if I was head of the company which… uh, I guess is nice.”

“Oh. I… uh, I don’t know if I can go Ken.”

“Please Mar. It would be great to see you there.”

“Yeah, but you’ll probably be all caught up with the Waystar shit and I won’t know anyone else there that isn’t your family.” Marla was rambling. “Also… you know I’m not really on good terms with them so…”

“You technically have an invitation as part of the board so it’s not like you don’t belong there. Besides, you’re like the… most socially skilled person I know. Also, uh, Stewy will be there. You guys are still friends right?”

Oh Stewy. Marla liked Stewy. He was simple. She didn’t need to get into much detail with him and he didn’t expect her to. They had a thing a long while ago during her college years but it had ended on the best of terms. It would be nice to see him again, she hadn’t spoken to him in months. 

“I’ll see if I go.”

“Please Marla.”

“Hey! I moved on from it being the last thing I would ever want to do to actually considering it. Be a little bit grateful” Kendall chuckled once again at her words.

“Alright, alright. I’m just saying, I really want you to go.”

“I know.”

A small silence. This time a comfortable one. Marla was smiling, but this time it wasn’t to get rid of the awkwardness, it was genuine. 

“Anyways… you were, uh, busy, weren’t you?”

“Busy? Oh right! Yeah.”

“Yeah so… uh, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Oh. Alright. See you soon Kendall.” It had been a long time since she’d ever pronounced those words. 

“See you Marla.” Marla separated the phone from her ear and was about to click on the red icon when Kendall spoke.

“Uh… wait, Marla?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really happy you answered.”

“I’m happy I answered too.”

“I hope you come to the gala. I’ve, uh, I’ve missed you.”

Marla sat still at his words.

“And uh… I know I’m not the only one in the family who has.”

“What does that mean?”

“Uh… nothing… you’ll probably find out at the gala.”

“Oh mysterious. I don’t know if I like it.” Kendall laughed. “I feel like this is all just a lie so you can see me this Sunday. Which I don’t really understand since you’ll already be seeing me on Tuesday.”

“I know, but the gala… It’s different. It’s a statement.”

“A statement, huh?” Marla twirled a loose thread from her sleeve. She liked the sound of that.

“Yeah. And it’s not just about the vote. It’s about showing up. Making them see who’s on my side.”

Marla exhaled through her nose, staring at the city lights flickering in the distance. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to go. She just didn’t want to make it seem like she wanted to go.

“…What’s the dress code?”

Kendall laughed. “Black tie. You know the drill.”

“Fine. I’ll think about it.”

“You better think real hard.”

prologue: of power and pride

chapter one: shark-infested waters

chapter two: not on the menu

chapter three: house money

A frustrated sigh escaped your lips as you wiped down the counter for the fourth time that night, scrubbing at a stubborn stain while silently cursing your job for the thousandth time. The endless mess, the sticky floors, and the clinging stench of stale alcohol on your clothes were bad enough. But the worst part? The relentless parade of truck-stop regulars: sloppy drunks who flirted too aggressively and looked at you as though you were just another item on the menu.

You tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, trying to brush away something that had dried on the counter, when the bell rang on the other side of the bar. You looked up to see a rather attractive guy approaching the bar. It was almost one in the morning, so the place was mostly deserted aside from a few regulars. Once he was closer to the light you changed your mind; a very attractive guy.

Throwing the dirty towel over your shoulder you took a deep breath before walking over to the handsome stranger. “What can I serve you?” You smiled, leaning on the bar. He looked down at you and you felt the air catch in your lungs. He had the most amazing green eyes. You were used to seeing new faces every day, but none like his. He smiled, seemingly checking you out as his eyes traveled through your face, answering the question. 

“Just a beer, please” he replied, his voice deep and rough, like a low roll of thunder.

It wasn’t just his voice that threw you off. The way he looked at you, his gaze lingering as though he saw more than just a tired bartender, made your cheeks warm. Why was someone like him in a place like this at nearly 1 am? 

“Coming right out” you responded, almost breathlessly. You were hyper-aware of his presence, the way his gaze followed you as you moved. Diverting your attention from that beautiful stranger, you served him the beer. Still smiling like an idiot. Your hands trembled slightly as you set the beer down in front of him, and when your eyes met his again, he smiled. A small, crooked smile that made your stomach flutter.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice softer this time, like he didn’t want to break the moment.

Before you could respond, a voice you knew all too well cut through the quiet.

“Hello darling,” Sighing and closing your eyes, you walked up to the drunk guy who was here seven days a week, flirting constantly with you. “What do you want, Carl?” you asked, your voice sharp.

“Wow, I don't think that's the way to talk to your best client,” he growled drunkenly. His breath reeked of bourbon, or maybe whiskey. You honestly couldn't tell, not that you cared.

“Are you going to order something else or are you finally going to get your ass out of here?” You exploded, not having the energy for this.

“I've always liked my women feisty”, he winked at you and a shiver of disgust passed through you. “What would it take for you to go out on a date with me?”

“‘M sorry, but for the thousandth time, I’m not really interested. Now please excuse me, but I need to get back to work,” walking to the idiot's left to clear another table, he grabbed your wrist. It was quite a rough grab and you knew it would leave a mark. You were whipped to face him and tried to hide the fact that you were terrified. He was drunk, strong and almost a foot taller than you.

“I don’t understand why you don’t just go out with me, I mean, you’re just a sleazy bar slut and it’s not like many other people want you” Carl growled, not looking away from your eyes. You tried to appear tough but the situation was getting scary. That’s when someone stepped in the middle of you too, breaking his hold on your wrist. 

“Why don't you do us all a favor, apologise to the lady and get your ass out of here?” A deep voice said calmly. You recognized the voice, but you weren't sure who the person was until you looked over to where the green-eyed stranger was sitting. He was gone, well he wasn't gone, he was defending you. 

Carl scoffed. “Yeah, like I owe any of you anything. A bitch and an idiot who’s fighting with someone on one foot-” he didn't get to finish. He was interrupted by the attractive stranger twisting the drunk’s arm, which resulted in a scream from the victim. He jerked his arm away and ran out of the bar.

You found yourself laughing after he left. After a few months, someone finally got that idiot to leave. Speaking of which, you finally got a better look at the stranger as he turned around, still quite close to you. The light nape of the neck that covers a sharp jaw, the perfect smile hidden behind full lips. Not to mention the eyes. Oh my god, those eyes made you melt.

“Are you alright?" he asked, much less intimidating. You realized he was looking at you and instinctively looked at the ground. 

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Thank you,” you murmured, feeling your cheeks flush. Then, he gently grabbed your wrist, which was already forming a bruise, and ran his fingers over your skin. Every second you were in contact with him, sparks broke out on your skin. You both looked at each other, staring into each other's eyes. Losing yourself in his eyes once again, you were glad he spoke.