[6:12 PM]
The car ride was quiet but filled with tension. Angelina sat in the passenger seat, her mind racing with thoughts about what was going to happen. Alex didn't say anything specific, but she had mentally prepared herself for a penthouse evening. Wine, silk sheets, kisses, and sex.
But when the car moved past his building and kept driving, she blinked and leaned forward slightly.
"Wait! Where are we actually going?" she asked in confusion.
Alex glanced at her and smiled. He said, "Somewhere fun."
After another fifteen minutes of driving...
The car turned into a wide, nondescript industrial lot surrounded by matte black fencing and security towers. Large floodlights glowed over the asphalt, casting long shadows. A reinforced steel gate slid open, and they rolled into what looked like a tech fortress hidden in plain sight.
[Titan Production plant] [NOTE: Jane, Alex's second assistant, usually takes care of this sector, so Alex doesn't pay much attention. He simply reads the reports from Rachel and counts the profit.]
A private security guard stepped forward, recognized Alex immediately, and gave a quick nod before opening the glass front gate.
After Alex parked the car, Angelina stepped out, still puzzled but intrigued. The cool air smelled faintly of metal, resin, and something warm and industrial. As they stepped inside, her eyes widened.
The entrance opened into a massive atrium layered with walkways, glass walls, and suspended prop rigs. Every corner buzzed with activity. Artists sketched on digital tablets, fabricators molded silicone and resin, and engineers tested animatronic components under glaring spotlights. The hum of machinery mixed with low synth music pulsing through the internal speakers.
"This is Titan's core. The production plant 1," Alex said as they walked past a row of display pedestals. "We built everything here."
Angelina turned slowly, her breath catching when she spotted the first glass case. It held the full set of Iron Man arc reactors, each one lit from within and labeled with production dates. Next to it stood a battle-worn Wonder Woman shield and a disassembled Captain America gauntlet mod.
"Wow! This is insane," she said in a low voice.
As they walked deeper into the plant, Angelina's pace slowed. Her earlier thoughts of wine and sex had vanished. Instead, she found herself darting from one exhibit to the next like a kid on a backstage tour of her own fandom.
There was a case filled with rare Batman utility belt prototypes from multiple series. A corner display held Lantern rings in various alloys and colors. A long table displayed the evolution of Spider-Man's web shooters, from crude mechanical devices to nanotech-inspired builds.
"This is insane," she murmured, running her hand along the smooth glass. "How do you even have time to manage all this?"
Alex walked beside her, hands in his pockets, smiling as he watched her reaction. "I built Titan to be more than a studio. It's a creative engine. We manufacture dreams. We design the gear, the toys, the limited-run collector lines. Every physical item you've ever seen in a Titan production either passed through this facility or was born inside it."
He led her through another set of automatic doors into the merchandise lab. Inside, racks of jackets, helmets, swords, and gadgets lined the walls like a costume armory. Some props were half-assembled, others were glowing under internal wiring checks. Angelina stopped in front of a display lineup of superhero costumes. There were costumes of every single Marvel and DC hero there.
"These are gorgeous," she said as she stopped before Emma Frost's costume.
Alex stood just behind her, the cool-white LEDs from the display case casting a faint glow across his face as he watched her stare at the costumes. Her fingers hovered just over the glass near the sharp, crystalline lines of the Emma Frost outfit.
"You really like that one," he said.
Angelina looked up, the light catching in her eyes. "Yeah. Always have. She's confident, beautiful, untouchable from the outside, but there's so much underneath. A survivor pretending to be untouchable. That's... kind of familiar."
Alex nodded. "If you had the chance to play any superhero, who would it be? Like really play. Not just a cameo or a costume. Full lead role, mythos and all."
She turned slowly, glancing from case to case. Her expression shifted into something thoughtful, a mix of playfulness and seriousness.
"Emma Frost," she said first. "No question. Or Wonder Woman, if we're talking about power and legacy. But honestly? Spider-Woman too. She's chaotic, underestimated, impossible to pin down. I like her energy."
She paused, then narrowed her eyes at him.
"Wait."
Alex kept his expression neutral, but he had stopped moving.
Angelina folded her arms and tilted her head. "You didn't bring me here just to show me toys and fan service. Did you?"
He shrugged, still calm. "Maybe I wanted to see how your eyes lit up around the tech."
Her gaze sharpened. "Alex."
He smiled. It wasn't smug or playful. It was the kind of smile that only came with purpose. "After Mr and Mrs Smith, I've got a couple of projects lined up. So, I'll keep your preference in mind if I were to make a live-action movie based on these characters. Anyway, let's move to the next section."
She wanted to say something, but decided not to. Right now, she kinda felt bad. She was wrong about Alex. He didn't even try to take advantage of her and there she was and her stupid thoughts. 'God! I feel so bad. I think I'll apologize to him. Damn it! Ange. You are so stupid.'
Alex led Angelina down a side corridor, away from the main production lines and into a section that felt older. The walls were raw steel, with pipes exposed along the ceiling, and the air grew warmer as they walked. The distant hum of machinery was replaced by a dull thudding sound, rhythmic and slow.
They stopped before a reinforced door with a black biometric panel.
Alex placed his palm on the scanner. The panel beeped and the door slid open with a hiss, revealing a workshop behind thick fireproof glass. The space looked more like a blacksmith's lair than a modern tech lab. Rows of anvils, glowing furnaces, custom grinders, and steel-crafting tools filled the room. Sparks flew in the air as one of the forgers brought a glowing blade down onto a workbench with precision.
This wasn't showbiz fabrication. This was old-world metallurgy married to cutting-edge craftsmanship.
Inside, a man in a leather apron looked up and smiled as he pulled off his safety goggles. His hair was silver, cropped short, and his hands were thick with calluses and scars. He wiped his hands on a black towel and walked toward them.
"Paul," Alex said. "Still breaking the laws of physics?"
Paul laughed. "Only when they get in the way of art." He turned to Angelina, offering a solid handshake. "Pleasure. I've been working with Alex for over a decade. If it's rare, sharp, and costs more than a sports car, it probably came from this forge."
Angelina returned the handshake, her eyes scanning the workshop. Her eyes fell on the rack of swords and daggers. "This is incredible. You make real blades here?"
"Everything here is functional," Paul said. "High-carbon Damascus, folded steels, alloys. Whatever you want, we can build it. Even the obsidian core dagger we made for that Saudi royal. That one bled money."
Alex turned to Paul. "Can you bring the catalog?"
Paul nodded and stepped away, returning moments later with a thick leather-bound book and a black velvet pouch.
He placed them on a side table and opened the catalog with care. The pages were filled with high-resolution photographs and detailed specs for each blade. Some were modeled after historical weapons, others were pure fantasy. There were daggers designed in the style of Celtic rites, Persian assassins, Japanese kunai, ancient Egyptian ceremonial blades, and more.
Angelina leaned in, flipping the pages slowly. Her fingertips ran across the textures as she moved from one design to another. Each dagger was a masterpiece, from the simple elegance of bone-handled hunters to ornate, jewel-inlaid pieces that looked like they belonged in a museum or a vault.
"You can pick any one," Alex said, standing beside her
She looked up from the catalog. "You're giving me a custom dagger?"
"I told you earlier I'd fund your museum if you ever made it. Think of this as a centerpiece, although it'd be newly made, but with my sign on it, its value will increase by multiple folds in the coming years. Or maybe think of it as a gift from me."
She looked back at the book and kept flipping. Her eyes stopped on a double-edged blade with a curved ivory handle and etched runes along the fuller. It was elegant, brutal, and precise. The caption underneath read: The Morrigan's Fang – Celtic-inspired, designed for both display and deadly intent. Mirror-polished high-carbon steel with mythic lore embellishments.
Angelina touched the image, then turned the page, looked through five more, and came back to it.
"This one," she said. "It feels… right."
Paul stepped forward and made a note. "Beautiful choice. That piece takes a little over six weeks to forge properly, but we can fast-track it and deliver it by Christmas night."
Alex leaned on the edge of the table. "Engrave it with her initials and add a case. Something black and blood-red. Something that says, I will ruin your life if you touch this blade."
Paul nodded. "I've got just the lacquer for that."
Angelina looked from Paul to Alex, a slow smile forming. "I have no idea what to say. No one's ever given me a weapon before. Not one that actually means something."
Alex shrugged. "I figured you'd appreciate something that cuts cleaner than compliments."
She gave a soft laugh and glanced around the forge again. The smell of steel and oil, the weight of the space, the memory of every story she had once told herself about disappearing and finding peace with a collection of blades—it all wrapped around her like a warm, strange hug.
"This means a lot," she said, voice low and honest. "Not just the dagger. But all of this. Sharing it. Letting me see it."
Alex looked at her for a moment, his expression unguarded. "I didn't bring you here to impress you. I brought you here because this is the part of me no one ever sees. Everyone gets the empire. The red carpets and the power. But this is the heart of it. This is where I remember why I started."
Angelina stared at him, the weight of his words settling between them. She nodded once, slowly.
"I get it."
Paul stepped back into the workshop to begin his prep. The forges flared back to life, and the hiss of steel meeting oil rang through the room.
Angelina stepped closer to the table and looked at the catalog one more time. Then she turned to Alex.
For a moment, no one spoke, then she broke the silence...
"I..." She took a deep breath, arranging her thoughts. "I want to apologize for something. Can we go somewhere... You know..."
"Yeah," Alex took her to the break room. It was empty.
She began. "Earlier today, when I got into the car… I thought you were taking me to your place. I assumed it would be one of those nights. Wine, soft music, something scripted, and sex. I prepared myself for it because I thought it was what you expected, and I said that 'night' thing. It's not like I don't want to, God, you are hot and sexy and hard to keep my eyes away from you. That's beside the point. Part of me thought we'd just have sex and spend some time together until our contract is over, and then we'd go our separate ways."
There was a moment of silence before she spoke again...
"But then you took me here. You showed me something real and personal. You didn't want anything from me. You just gave. And it messed with me, because I didn't expect it. Like, you keep giving me so many things and never ask for anything in return. And I thought this was it. I feel stupid for how I framed this in my head."
Alex took a breath and stepped toward her. He didn't close the distance completely, just enough to be in her orbit.
"Angelina," he said, voice soft. "You don't need to apologize."
She looked up, cautiously.
"I respect you," he continued. "Not just the performer or the public face, but the person. The one who still shows up when things fall apart. The one who thought about running a dagger museum just to find some peace. I respect your fire, your honesty, your control. Even when you think you're losing it."
Her eyes softened, just a little.
"And just so we're clear," he added, taking a step closer, "you weren't the only one thinking about all of that. The idea of us spending time together, sharing something that might get complicated. I've thought about it too. A lot more than I probably should have."
She started to say something, but he gently raised his hand.
"But here's the thing. I don't want this to be another script. I don't want a routine. I don't want to burn hot and vanish in a cloud of press releases and red carpet stories. I want something real and steady. I want to know who you are when you're not trying to be perfect for the cameras or tough enough for the world. And I want you to know about me too."
Angelina's lips parted slightly. Her guard wasn't down entirely, but it was lower now. She looked at him like she was seeing a version of him no one else had seen.
Alex took a breath and went on.
"I'd like to go on real dates with you. Just you and me. I'd like to sit across from you without a script or a contract or a countdown. I want to learn what makes you laugh. I want to know your favorite late-night snack. I want to know what keeps you up at night, and what gives you peace. I'm not in a rush. We don't need to label it or plan out the next six months. But if you're open to it… I'd like to see where this could go. However, there are certain things you need to know about my personal life. After that you can decide."
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[6 advance chs] [All chs available for all tiers] [No double billing.]
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