"Mr. Stark!"
"Excuse me, Mr. Stark!"
"I'm Christine Everhart from Vanity Fair. May I ask you a few questions?"
The blonde reporter, Christine, was being blocked by two tall men in black suits and sunglasses. Since she'd only shouted the surname "Stark," it wasn't clear if she meant Tony or Leon.
Naturally, Leon assumed she meant him.
Tony was already seated inside the stretch limo, while Leon stood at the door with his arm still around the model he hadn't yet "befriended." Happy glanced at Christine, her figure, her face, and muttered to the brothers:
"She's hot."
"Really?" x2
Both brothers perked up in unison. But Leon was closer.
Without hesitation, he shoved the model he was with straight into the limo and right into Tony's arms.
"She's yours, bro."
"You bastard."
Tony chuckled and wrapped an arm around the girl's slim waist, then signaled Happy to drive off, just in case the reporter actually wanted to interview him, leaving his brother standing there awkwardly.
As the limo rolled away, Tony even shouted:
"Have fun, but play safe. No casualties tonight. I'm skipping home, gonna catch a jet instead."
Leon gave him a thumbs-up, appreciating the wingman move.
As the car disappeared into the distance, Leon turned to his bodyguards:
"Let her through."
With the boss's nod, the guards stepped aside.
"Lovely night, isn't it?" Christine greeted him with a polished smile, stealing a glance at Tony's departing limo.
Leon didn't return the smile.
"Miss Everhart, if you've been standing out here in the cold all night just to ask me some boring-ass questions, then I don't think we have anything to talk about."
He raised a hand to wave her off.
Christine panicked. Dropping the flirty tone, she seized the rare opportunity and quickly shifted gears.
"Mr. Leon Stark, some say your brother is a modern-day Da Vinci. What's your take on that?"
"Nonsense. He doesn't even paint."
Leon deadpanned.
"Unless we're talking spit-painting. Then sure, Tony's a master."
He added, smirking.
"But honestly? If anyone deserves the 'Da Vinci' title, it's me."
He said it with such confidence that Christine momentarily forgot to be skeptical.
"Uhh... right," she muttered, recovering.
"And what do you think of your brother's other nickname, 'Merchant of Death'?"
"Cool."
Leon whistled casually, rubbing his chin while openly sizing her up with a look that was borderline predatory.
Despite the cold night air, Christine's white blouse was mysteriously unbuttoned at the top.
Was it intentional? Maybe. Maybe not.
Either way, Leon diagnosed it instantly: this woman needed... treatment. Good thing he had plenty of experience.
"Let me guess. Brown University?"
"Mmm-hmm~" she hummed, clearly proud.
"Figures. Only a free-spirited and rebellious place like Brown could've raised someone as sharp-tongued as you, Miss Everhart."
His tone was playfully sarcastic, but there was weight beneath the charm.
"Christine, the world isn't perfect. But we don't have the luxury of waiting for perfection."
"All we can do is do our best, in our own roles, to nudge the world closer to the one we want to live in."
"The day we no longer need weapons to secure peace, I swear, I'll have Tony build children's hospitals instead."
"You've rehearsed that line, haven't you?" Christine said, unimpressed.
"Of course."
Leon shrugged. "I practice in the mirror every night before bed."
"I can tell."
Christine rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered.
"Why don't you come home with me?" Leon offered smoothly. "See firsthand how I rehearse?"
Christine gave him a polite, if guarded, smile.
"Can we stay professional for one minute?"
"Fine, fine."
Leon relented and grew more serious.
"There's an old saying: 'Having no sword and choosing not to draw it are two very different things.'"
"Weapons aren't created to take lives, they exist to demonstrate strength. That strength deters war and protects the people."
"And Stark Industries? Our cutting-edge tech does exactly that."
Christine didn't look convinced.
"Sounds like self-congratulatory PR."
"Nope. It's the truth."
Leon held firm.
"My father helped defeat the Nazis. He was part of the Manhattan Project. A lot of people, including your Ivy League professors, called him a hero."
"And a lot of others said he profited off war," Christine retorted.
Leon actually laughed.
"So why not report on the millions of lives we've saved through our advanced medical technologies? Or the famine we've prevented with our smart agriculture projects?"
"Those are all military-funded initiatives, honey."
"Wow…"
Christine was momentarily stunned. "Still, war profiteering is just that, profiting off war. How do you sleep at night?"
"Like a baby."
Leon grinned. "Though I wouldn't mind losing a little sleep for you."
To her dismay, Christine blushed, just a little.
No one could resist those eyes. Even a hardened journalist like her had trouble looking away when Leon gazed at her like he was in love, with a golden retriever.
Her throat tightened. Her tongue flicked against her lips.
The tension needed no explanation.
On the ride home…
It was like a match dropped in dry brush.
Christine was already all over him while Leon was still trying to steer the damn car.
Thank god Tony had installed a sub-JARVIS module into Leon's sports car, just in case.
Otherwise, Leon would've crashed long before tonight.
J.A.R.V.I.S., named after Howard Stark's old butler, was a highly advanced AI butler Tony had developed, capable of handling tasks like autopilot with ease.
They made it back in one piece.
The rest of the night? Let's just say sleep wasn't on the itinerary.
Next morning.
Christine awoke glowing with satisfaction.
Leon, on the other hand, was passed out cold.
Running her fingers lightly across his ruggedly handsome face, she smiled and gave him a lingering kiss.
No, she hadn't seduced Tony Stark… but Leon Stark?
In some ways, that was even better.
Because compared to his clever and calculating brother, the notoriously frivolous Leon Stark seemed far easier to manipulate.
As she fantasized about becoming the future lady of Stark Industries, Christine wandered the seaside cliffside villa wearing nothing but a bedsheet.
The place looked like something from Blade Runner, stacked to the ceiling with futuristic tech most people couldn't even dream of.
Her awed gasps echoed throughout the open-plan villa.
Eventually, she reached what looked like the elevator to a basement.
Curious, she pressed the button.
"ERROR."
"Access denied, Miss Everhart."
The mechanical voice startled her, especially in a time when AI assistants weren't common knowledge yet.
"What the hell!?"
Christine jumped.
A calm female voice answered from behind her:
"That's J.A.R.V.I.S. He manages the house."
Turning around, Christine saw a poised, sharply dressed woman with short blonde hair tied into a ponytail.
"I brought your clothes. They've been dry-cleaned and pressed. There's a car waiting outside, you're free to go wherever you like."
Pepper Potts handed over the clothes with a practiced smile.
"You must be Miss Potts."
"That's me."
"After all these years working for Tony and Leon… they still make you do their laundry?"
Christine asked as she started changing clothes, on purpose, flaunting her youth and assets.
Pepper didn't flinch.
"I do whatever Mr. Stark requires of me. He's my boss. And Leon… well, Leon is like a younger brother to me."
"Even though I'm technically younger, cleaning up after his midnight messes falls under my 'older sister' duties."
"Anything else, Miss Everhart?"
Her smile was frosty.
"You, hmph!"
Christine snatched her bag and left with a scowl.
No use staying where she wasn't wanted.
Besides, she'd play the long game. Once she had Leon Stark wrapped around her finger, she'd walk back into this house as the rightful lady of the estate.
And when that day came?
Pepper Potts would not be smiling.
"don't underestimate a broke young woman!"