“No fighting with Marshall.” Marshall. So that was the fucker’s name. Madelyn must have seen how tense my jaw was because she arched a threatening brow. “I mean it. If you go fighting him, it’s going to cause more issues for me. So, be the six-foot-seven bodyguard all you want, but do not goad him, do not call him names, and do not lay a finger on him.” “I won’t,” I promise. “Unless he lays a finger on you.”
