Chapter 1:

A bet's a bet

You'd think that being the daughter of a billionaire is easy. Endless presents, parties, dressing up — all that stuff might be fun for a while but then you realize that none of it is for yourself. Even graduating from college with three degrees when you're sixteen is not for you. It's for the legacy.

Right now we are in Las Vegas for the Apogee awards. Dad is being recognized and I highly doubt he cares. He doesn't care about much that involves grown up stuff. He likes having fun. I can't exactly dislike him for that, it's made for fun times and good memories, but he's the heir of his father's company.

Yep, my name is Andrina Helen Marie Stark. I am daughter to Tony and Virginia "Pepper" Stark.

I am a certified genius. Robotics, Science and mathematics are obviously my best subjects.

Mom and I are getting ready in our Las Vegas suite. Dad might not be psyched about this idea, but I am. I grew up in the limelight and having to deal with crowds of people, so I don't mind this. I accepted that I'm a part of my father's image a long time ago.

I put Rhodey's call on speakerphone and then throw it onto the bed as I get my dress out.

"I bet you twenty bucks he won't even show. He'll stay in the casino all night," I tell Rhodey as I slip into my sleek black, one-shouldered dress. My brownish-hazel eyes are intensified by the dark, smoky eye makeup that I have on. I usually never have this much makeup on, but I figured since we're in Vegas, I won't be the one to have the most makeup on. I do look intense and older than I usually do.

Am I allowed to admit that?

"Like your Dad would miss out on a chance to be in the spotlight?" Rhodey scoffs. "You're on, Andie. I'll see you there, kiddo."

"See you, Rhodey."

I hear the beep that tells me that he hung up. I look in the floor-length mirror and slightly cringe. The dress is a bit too much for my usual taste. I usually tend to stay in the lighter colors, but I have to branch out sometime. And this dress gives me the perfect shape and I like the slit going up the side of my leg. It goes to just above the knee. Obadiah likes us to dress up anyways. He has been taking care of the company because I honestly think that Dad doesn't want to.

I curl my long chocolate brown hair. I look exactly like my grandma Stark. That's what people tell me, anyway.

I pull the mess of curls into a low side bun and allow some ringlets to fall. If the rest of me looks a bit harsh, a simple hairstyle ought to soften the look. I put on my black strappy heels and go into the living area of our suite.

"You're so beautiful, sweetheart," Mom tells me when she sees me.

Mom is looking fierce herself. She has her bangs in a side part and has sexy waves flowing from her head. Her navy blue eyes are fierce under the influence of black liner. She's wearing a one-sleeved blue evening gown. She is so beautiful.

"You ready?" Mom asks me.

"Just one second," I tell her bringing out my phone. I want a picture of her.

"Andie, no!" she tells me playfully. Mom is never one for pictures.

"Yes! Mom, you're beautiful."

She just scoffs and waves her hand in dismissal.

I take her picture just like that. Despite what she says, the camera loves her. The picture is so natural. Mom doesn't have to try. She can rock sweats and T-shirts just as easily as she rocks the suits and dresses.

"Do you now if Dad is there?" I ask her.

"I have no idea. Obadiah just called me and told me that he and Rhodey are waiting on us."

I think I'm going to be twenty bucks richer by the end of the evening.

This might be Vegas, but compared to the rest of the people we've meet, we look like movie stars. We might be some kind of celebrity, but no — just no. We just get courteous nods and mom gets obliviously checked out a couple of times, but other than that, the trip to Ballroom C is uneventful.

We sit at a table with Rhodey and Obadiah. I know two people in this room. I'm underage and expected to mingle. It's a bit hard to do with in my situation. Almost everyone in the room has some kind of alcoholic beverage in front of them.

I can graduate college, but I can't drink. I just now can drive legally.

A short video of Grandpa, Dad and me begins the evening. Why they had to involve me, I don't know, but I'm featured. Mom apparently dug out a bunch of old photos. A lot of the pictures of us I don't even remember. I like the one where I'm sitting on the ground and Dad is working on the car and I have a wrench in my hand, trying to give it to him. I've been around engines and robots for all of my life, but I never got the chance to remember my Grandpa.

After the video, Rhodey gets up to start his speech.

"As liaison to Stark Industries, I've had the unique privilege of serving with a true patriot. He is my friend and he is my great mentor. Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to present this year's Apogee award to Mr. Tony Stark."

I look at the empty seat between Mom and myself and just sigh. Mom seems to have the same disappointment in her eyes.

Obadiah gets up, but I put out a hand to stop him.

"I got this," I tell him.

"You sure, kid?" he asks me.

I just nod.

"Okay."

"Accepting for Tony is his daughter, Andrina," Rhodey says to the tune of respectful applause.

I walk up to the stage, getting slightly annoyed with my dress, the way the slit kind of makes it wrap around my leg, but I smile as I walk up the stairs.

Cameras are on. Flashes are going off. Smile, Andrina, smile. Look pretty.

"You look beautiful," Rhodey tells me as I reach him on the stage. He gives me a peck on the cheek.

"I accept cash and all major credit cards," I tell him playfully.

He just laughs.

I walk up to the podium where the award is waiting. Being up here is nerve wracking, but not as bad is being a brainy know-it-all ten year-old in high school.

"Dad's worst quality is perhaps is best: he's always working." I hate myself for the lie. Dad's in the Casino right now. I wouldn't consider that working. "But I would find it highly offensive to not credit our engineers, scientists and physicists at Stark Industries for all the hard work that they've done and, of course, a thank you to James Rhodes and Obadiah Stane and the American Military for their loyalty to my father and his company. Thank you very much." People clap and I walk off the stage. I kind of trip but I don't think anyone notices. I walk back to our table and sit down.

"Good job, girl," Obadiah says proudly and a bit surprised, putting his hand on my bare shoulder. It feels extremely awkward.

"Thanks," I reply, trying to bury my uncomfortable-ness.

I see Rhodey move out of the corner of my eye and he gets out his wallet.

"I was joking, Rhodey, you don't actually have to pay me," I tell him, shoving his hand away playfully.

"A bet's a bet," Rhodey responds, handing me a twenty-dollar bill.

HEART*OF*STEEL* HEART*OF*STEEL* HEART*OF*STEEL* HEART*OF*STEEL*

The awards ceremony ends and Mom is talking to various people and I see Rhodey slip out with the Apogee and I follow him. He will be going to find Dad. I am about to walk onto the casino floor when one of the floor managers stops me.

Ugh. My age is really hindering. Like I said before: I can graduate college, but I can't go anywhere without supervision.

"Miss, you can't be in here alone," the manager tells me.

"I'm not here to gamble. I'm here to find my dad," I tell him as pleasantly as possible.

"Who is he? I can have him paged and meet you out here," he tells me.

I scoff. "Yeah. Good luck with that. I'm Andrina Stark."

"My apologies, Miss Stark. I must escort you to your father's craps table."

"Lead the way," I tell him, gesturing to the noisy casino floor. How people stand to be in these places, I don't know. This place would give me nothing but a headache. I take off my annoying shoes and follow the rather short man.

"Hey, baby!" Dad says as we reach him.

"Hey, Dad," I reply. "Hey, Rhodey."

"Hey, Andie. I was just telling your Dad about your speech," Rhodey says to me.

"Nailed it, right? That's my girl," Dad says as he rolls the dice.

"It probably would have been meaningful if you'd given the speech," I tell him. "It'd probably be even more meaningful if you'd received the award yourself."

"Hey! Hey, Andie. Don't be like that. I'm in Vegas and you expect me not to play?"

"I have no comment," I reply. I have a comment all right, but it's one I'm not going to say.

All the women around him look disdained. They look like they forgot he had a kid. Like they have a chance anyway. Dad never steps out on Mom.

One woman, he keeps shrugging off his forearm.

"Hands off the precious, Gollum," I tell her in a menacing voice.

She immediately backs off.

"You missed Mom looking hot," I tell him. I bring my phone out of my clutch and show Dad the picture of Mom.

"Wow!" He does his infamous gulp and eye-bug face. It's quite the funny face.

When I take away my phone, I notice that I have a message. It's from Mom, telling me that it's time to go.

I put my shoes back on.

"Dad, come on. It's time to go," I tell him.

"One more roll and then I'll cash out, 'kay, babe?"

"Dad, come on!"

"Okay! Okay!" he says.

Sometimes I think I'm the one doing the parenting. He cashes his chips and then we leave the floor. It's not always like this between us. Most of what he does it purely for show.

"You look beautiful tonight, sport. So much like Grandma Stark," he tells me as he brings me into a one-armed hug and kisses my temple.

"Thanks, Dad."

"But what's with all the makeup?" Dad asks. "Shouldn't you be playing with dolls or something?"

I just give him a playful eye roll.

"Oh, you!" he tells me as he tries to tickle me.

I run towards Mom who is waiting in the lobby with our private security along with a couple of guys from hotel security.

"Pep, you look stunning," Dad tells Mom with wide eyes.

"Happy has the car out front and everything has been packed and is ready."

We all walk out to hear loud cheers and flashes. We don't get out in time because a girl who reeks of journalist jogs up to us. She talks through the arms of multiple security guards.

"Christine Everhart, Vanity Fair. May I ask you a couple of questions?" she asks.

Dad looks between Mom, who has just got in the car, and me and then replies, "Make it quick."

"You've been called the Da Vinci of our time, what do you say to that?"

"It's ridiculous. I don't paint," Dad replies.

"And what do you say to your other nickname: The Merchant Of Death?" she asks.

"That's not bad. Let me guess, Berkeley?"

"Brown, actually," she replies wittily.

"Well, Ms. Brown. It's an imperfect world, but it's the only one we've got. I guarantee you the day weapons are no longer needed to keep the peace; I'll start making bricks and beams for baby hospitals," Dad replies.

"All I want is a serious answer," Ms. Everhart tells him.

"Here's serious: My old man had a philosophy. Peace means having a bigger stick than the other guy."

"That's a great line coming from the guy who sells the sticks."

"My father helped defeat the Nazis. He worked on the Manhattan Project — a lot of people, including your Professors at Brown call that being a hero."

"Touché." I comment.

"Andrina, how do you feel about all this?" she asks me.

I should have kept my mouth shut. I should have really kept my mouth shut. It's too late now, ya big dummy.

"I know exactly what I feel about what you're doing. I can see it in your eyes that you think we might as well be mercenaries profiting from war, either that or you really wanna sleep with my Dad."

Dad just looks at me with a proud smile.

She looked like she wanted to say more, but smartly didn't.

"That's my girl!" Dad says happily as he opens the door and slides into the car. "Happy? Let's roll."