Chapter Twenty-Nine
Rosie:
I drummed my fingers nervously on my legs. The hours passed, and eight o'clock had rolled around much faster than I wanted it to. I glanced up through the tinted windows of the limousine, looking for any signs of paparazzi or the press. The streets were barren, thank God, but it didn't stop my anxious thoughts. My mind was whirling with the questions they'd ask me, about how if felt being a level-seven, how I felt about doing so much damage to New York City, what it was like being the daughter of Tony Stark. I uncrossed my legs, crossed them again, twiddled my thumbs, pulled at the loose strands of hair. I had no idea how I'd answer those questions. And there would most likely be many more that were far more intricate.
And then the governor. I bit my lip hard. What if I said the wrong thing? What if I stumbled over my words? Or worse, what if I unleashed the darkness?
"Rosie," called Bruce, pulling me out of my thoughts. I glanced over at my friend, who had no doubt noticed my nervousness, probably due to the fact that I was biting my lip so hard it was close to bleeding. "You'll be fine," he said, assuring me with a small smile and a pat to the knee.
"How can you be so sure?" I said, rolling my pearl earring between my fingertips.
"If I can do it, you can, too," he said. "We both have demons inside us, remember?" He flashed a reassuring grin, and I smiled back as best I could, though still gnawing at my bottom lip.
"I strongly agree with Bruce," Thor said, leaning over so far that his biceps nearly squished me. "You'll do just fine, daughter of Stark."
"Thanks, Thor," I said, smiling at the large, blonde-haired man.
Natasha scoffed from the corner, clearly not amused by the two trying to assure me. "Don't screw up," I heard her mutter sarcastically out of the corner of her mouth. I went to glare at her, but rolled my eyes instead. She really wasn't worth the energy tonight, especially not after what Pepper put me through.
I'd passed the hours by being Pepper's personal Barbie doll. After finding the dress, she'd forced me to sit in front of a large vanity for at least an hour while she did the tedious task of my hair and makeup. I don't think I've worn so much cosmetic products in my life. Foundation, blush, eyeshadows, lipstick, highlight and contour… I felt like all of Sephora was caked onto my face. Yet, when I looked in the mirror, all of my makeup looked breezy and effortless. A flawless face, pink cheeks, bright eyes, all of it pulled together by a pretty dark red lipstick. The lipstick was Natasha's doing. I'd questioned the red, and she had insisted that combined with the dress it would make me look like a sunset. Pepper had agreed enthusiastically, so I was forced to wear the deep red shade on my lips.
I blew the hair out of my eyes. Ah, yes. The hair. I cringed inwardly. Pepper had chopped off a good portion of my hair. It had been down to my waist, too long and thick for her to pull up into a French twist. She cut it off to just above my breasts before winding it into the updo. She hadn't warned me beforehand, so I was left open-mouthed and shell-shocked when she sliced off more than half of my hair. She just hummed contentedly in response, pinning my hair into place.
I fussed with the fabric of my dress, causing the gold, pearl-encrusted bracelets on my wrist to jingle softly. Thor peered out the window, his eyes surveying the flawlessly paved driveway we the limo was now following. I could already see the massive crowd of reporters clustered at the entrance of a beautiful white estate. Cameras were flashing as senators and other political figured climbed out of their limousines and vintage cars. I suddenly felt very nauseous, my stomach twisting and turning violently. I found myself wishing I had Steve by my side, despite the fact that these past few days had been a tiny bit awkward. But he—along with Tony, Pepper, and Clint—had taken the other limousine.
"Ready, Rosie?" Bruce asked. I gave a shaky nod.
"Ready as I'll ever be."
He grinned. "Just remember that I'll be right at your side. Besides, the paparazzi aren't that scary, anyway."
Easy for you to say. You're the Hulk.
I could barely give another nod before the limo rolled to a stop, and the door opened. Natasha, probably sick of me and my anxiousness, was the first one out. She was wearing all black—black gown, black heels, black everything—and still looked ready to lead a fight against a alien army. Her eyes glazed over the crowd flatly, no interest in the paparazzi and their questions. I wished I could be like her, stoic and fearless.
Thor was the next one out, waving hugely and probably grinning just as broadly. Bruce followed him, obscured by his giant stature. I gulped. I was the only one left. Before I had time to stir in my thoughts, lifted the hem of my dress, and went out to face the press.
The light from the cameras was blinding. I blinked several times, trying to get my eyes to adjust. "Roslyn! Roslyn over here!"
"Roslyn, look this way! 'Atta girl!"
"Roslyn, how do you feel about battling your own father in New York City?"
"What's it like to be a level seven?"
"Are you romantically involved with any of the Avengers?"
"Roslyn, are you a natural redhead?"
Their questions poured down like rain. I forced myself to put on the mask, the rough 'n tough Rosie Simon mask, the same mask I'd once given Tony and Steve and the other Avengers. I opened my mouth to answer a question, but then felt a strong arm wrap around my shoulders.
"Mister Stark!" the reporters called out, almost in unison, and the camera flashes grew brighter. It was only then that I realized that the arm around my shoulders belonged to Tony.
"Just stick with me, kid," Tony said in a low voice so only I could hear. "Watch and learn."
One reporter pushed her way forward. She was pretty, with a royal blue dress and perfectly coiffed curls. "Mister Stark, introduce us to your daughter!" she said, with an eager grin on her face.
Tony flashed a what could be considered flirtatious smirk at the blonde reporter. She blushed, but I knew better. He had no intention of taking her home. This side of him was for entertainment only. "Christine Everhart," he said. "I was wondering if you were going to be here tonight."
"But of course," Christine said, a far to pleasant smile on her face, a certain wink in her eye. Was she trying to seduce my father?
"Well, Miss Everhart—and world," he motioned to the cameras. "This is my daughter, Miss Roslyn Simon."
More camera flashes. "Miss Simon," Christine said, her fierce attention now directed at me. "How old are you? How does it feel to be the daughter of one of the most powerful people of our age?"
"I'm seventeen," I said, more strength to my voice than I could've imagined. "But not for much longer—eighteen rolls around in August." More pictures. "And being the daughter of an Avenger doesn't feel any different than being a normal girl."
"Over here, Roslyn!" another reporter called out as Tony slowly helped me make my way to the door of the estate. "So you're seventeen, but your father is just now taking responsibility of you?"
"That's one way to put it," I found myself saying. "Granted, Tony didn't know I was his daughter until after I went on a rampage in New York." Some of the reports gave polite laughs. "My mother kind of kept it a secret."
"Roslyn, you clearly have extreme abilities," one male reporter said, the round glasses on his face far too shiny. "Were you born with these gifts, or were they given to you? How do you suppose you'll use them in the future? Do you think S.H.I.E.L.D. will consider you a weapon of mass destruction?"
He bolted out questions so fast, it was hard for me to comprehend them. "They were given to me somehow," I said. "And I wouldn't exactly call them gifts. A curse more like it. And I try to keep them as contained as possible, because I don't think any of us want a repeat of New York, do we?" There were a couple more chuckles, and I heard someone mutter, "Well, she certainly has her father's sarcasm."
"And I can't fully answer your last question," I went on. "I hope I'm not labeled a weapon of mass destruction, but you'll have to get S.H.I.E.L.D. to answer that one."
"Come on, Rosie, let's get inside," Tony said, pulling me towards the ornate double doors. The reports cried out in protest, cameras flashing wildly as they did so.
"Wait, Mister Stark!" It was Christine Everhart again. "One last question!"
Tony turned, glancing back at the blonde reporter over his shoulder. "How does it feel to have a level seven as a daughter?" she said, a sly grin on her features. I could tell that this was the question she'd been waiting to ask. It was the question on everyone's mind. No wonder she saved it till last.
Tony gave the woman his trademark smirk. "Wonderful."
"Wait, Mister Stark!"
"Mister Stark!"
"Over here, Mister Stark!"
The chorus of cries from the press followed us into the large estate. Tony looked relieved to be rid of the reporters. I would be, too, if other things hadn't caught my attention. I couldn't help but gasp, my eyes flying wildly around the interior of the estate. The Stark house was beautiful, yes, but this was… Breathtaking. The floor was hand-polished wood, light and bright and glossy. The French staircase was practically shimmering under the light, the two staircases forming a half-circle around the room. Dark red draped covered the tall windows, blocking out the reporters. Flowers were everywhere, as well as priceless works of art and crystal sculptures. With the delicate piano music flowing round the air, I began to wonder if I walked right into the Great Gatsby's house.
"There you are!" I heard Pepper call. She came over to us as quickly as her silver heels would allow, her stunning sapphire dress billowing around her like a soft, blue cloud.
"How was it?" Pepper asked, more to Tony than to me. "How did everything go?"
"She's a natural," Tony said with a grin, unwinding his arm from my shoulders. "You did good, kid," he said. If I wasn't mistaken, he was praising me right now.
"Thanks," I said, not really sure how to respond to the fact that Tony had just given me an actual compliment. There was a sparkle in his dark eyes that I'd never seen before. To my disappointment, a certain assassin came over before I could decipher it.
"You good, Rosie?" Clint asked. "Holding everything together?"
I nodded, much more enthusiastically than before. "Yup," I said, popping the 'p.' "I made it through the press, so I guess I'm off to a good start."
A smile crinkled the corners of the assassin's eyes. "Off to a great start, I'd say," he said. His dark eyes swept of me, and he gave an appreciative nod. "Rosie, you…"
"Think carefully, Legolas, or I tear out your liver," Tony interrupted, tensing at my side. Clint didn't look the slightest bit fazed.
"You look beautiful, Rosie," Clint finished, complete with a wink that Tony didn't get the pleasure of catching. I grinned at the former assassin.
"Thanks, Clint," I said, and I felt Tony relax beside me. Looks like he wasn't going to be doing any liver-tearing tonight. "You do, too. Well, not beautiful, I mean. But handsome."
And it was true. He wore a laid-back black suit, complete with a black tie, and I began to wonder if the protocol for the assassins was to wear all black. His dark hair, which was usually messy and unkempt, was more under control, more presentable. He didn't look like the Clint I knew. He actually looked more like a businessman. The thought made me giggle inwardly.
"Miss Roslyn," said a deep voice. I knew who it was instantly, and all amusement drained from my body instantly.
"Fury," I said, turning to face the man with the eye patch. I have to say, never in a million years did I expect to see Nick Fury in a suit and tie. A black suit and tie, of course.
"Excuse my interruption," Fury said, though his tone didn't sound very apologetic at all. "But I need to borrow Roslyn for a moment. The governor insists on meeting her."
"Alright, then," Pepper said, and gave my hand a squeeze. "You'll do great, Rosie."
I was barely able to get out a, "Thanks, Pepper," before Fury swept me away, his hand firmly around my arm. I felt the anxiety pool through me again, and I tugged my arm out of Fury's grasp.
"Where exactly is the governor?" I asked, my tone flat, as I walked beside Fury. Though I trusted most of the Avengers, I didn't trust Fury. When I saw him, I saw the glass prison. One wrong move with him, and he'd make sure I was locked up for life.
"The ballroom," Fury said, leading me through clusters of ladies in gowns and gentlemen in tuxedos. "I saw what you did back there with the press," he said. "I can't deny that I'm impressed."
I held back a scoff. "You're impressed by me?" I said. "All I did was answer a couple questions."
"It was the way you did it," Fury said, his tone as emotionless as mine, his one eye set on me. "You didn't let them see all of you. You were in complete control of the situation. First-timers aren't usually able to do that."
I raised an eyebrow. "First-timers?"
"People first introduced to the press," Fury said. "It can be overwhelming for most people. First-timers usually just start babbling and give away load of information to the press."
That made sense. I gave him no more than a short nod as we came into the ballroom. It was bustling with life. Identically dressed waiters moved gracefully through the throngs of people, balancing tall champagne glasses on silver-lined platters. Laughter and small talk braided the air, intertwining with the melody from the live band and the rich, soft words of the older man who was singing. People were taking to the dance floor, some dancing politely, other completely entwined in each other's arms.
So this was a ball. I have to say, it did remind me faintly of Cinderella. I reminded myself not to lose my shoe when I left later this evening.
"Roslyn," said Fury, pulling my eyes away from the liveliness before me. "Tony told me everything that's been happening." I was pretty sure my heart stopped in my chest. "He informed me of your…" he searched for the right word, his one eye going over the scars lining my arms. "Former life."
Not the words I would've chosen.
"That being said, I should put you back onto the Helicarrier for still having relations to the gangsters, no matter how small that relationship might be." Shit. I was going back on the Helicarrier. Goodbye, Tony. Goodbye, Pepper. "But," he went on. "He also told me how you have been establishing relationships with everyone," he went on. "With Pepper, Steve, Bruce, and basically everyone else except Natasha."
I nodded, confused, not exactly sure on where he was going with this. "What's your point, Fury?" I asked.
"With much persuasion from Pepper," he said, almost grumbling. "Who said that it wouldn't be beneficial to a growing girl's health to continue to be so restricted, I've decided to expand your restrictions. But not by much, so don't you go getting any ideas." He could clearly see the glimmer of excitement in my eyes. "You aren't confined to the Stark house any longer, however," he put a deadly amount of emphasis on the word. "You must have at least one of the Avengers accompany you wherever you go off of Stark's grounds."
I cocked my head to the side. "You know what?" I said. "Deal."
"It wasn't up for negotiation."
"My life is negotiation," I said. "Now you said the governor wanted to meet me?"
Fury nodded shortly. "This way," he said. He escorted me over to a group of middle-aged men, all of them with glasses of liquor in their hands, laughing richly at something someone had said. Probably something only they would find funny.
"Governor Smith," Fury greeted one of the men. He was a tall man, with a receding hairline of white hair and vivacious green eyes.
"Director Fury," Smith said cordially. "Wonderful to see you again." His emerald gaze fell to me then. "And is this who I think it is?"
"Of course, governor," Fury said. "Allow me to introduce Miss Roslyn Simon, the daughter of Tony Stark himself."
"Pleasure to meet you, Governor Smith," I said, extending my hand to him, which he shook with a strong grip.
"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Simon," he said. "Now, not to start off on the wrong foot, but I am curious. I hear that you were able to escape S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
I fought the urge to bite my red-lipstick lip, not for fear of smudging the makeup, but rather showing any signs of real emotion. According to Tony and Fury, it was better to be stoic than an emotional wreck, which made perfect sense.
"I did," I said honestly. "But that was only due to my… Abilities. I'm sure if anyone else attempted, they wouldn't be able to get past the first set of guards."
"Oh? And how did you manage?" Smith asked with intrigued eyes.
"I blew up a wall."
Smith gave a hearty chuckle. "Fantastic!" he said, throwing his fat hands up in the air. The other political figures around us, though, didn't look too amused. They began murmuring to each other, no doubt about me, and I felt a slight blush rise to my cheeks, not that it would be noticeable through the makeup. "Now," Smith said. "Do tell me how it was when your father found out you were his daughter."
"Well, he was surprised, to say the least," I said. "And from what I heard he had a panic attack when he was originally informed."
"As any man would if he found out his daughter was a level seven," Smith said, giving another belly laugh. His laugh reminded me oddly of Santa Claus. "Might I see your—what did you call it? Abilities?"
"Smith!" one of the politicians exclaimed. "Do you know what you're asking of her? She nearly destroyed New York City!"
"Oh, come now, William," Smith said. "The confrontation was contained to only a few blocks, I read the paper."
"But she's a level seven, sir," I heard another one of them whisper. "Don't you think she's the least bit dangerous?"
"Gentlemen, life is dangerous," Smith said. "And this is not danger. This is a darling seventeen-year-old girl. You remind me of my granddaughter, Emily, actually," Smith commented. "You have the same color hair as she does."
"Oh. Right," I said, not really sure how to take that. "Thank you?"
One man, the one Smith referred to as William, gave a scoff. "I don't know what you're seeing, Smith. Maybe you've had too much scotch. But all I see is a girl who could be used as a very lethal weapon if fallen into the wrong hands." Fallen into the wrong hands? What am I, a missile? "And I think I speak for most of America, Miss Simon," William said through clenched teeth. "That you should not be allowed freedom, and should be kept in isolation until your abilities have subsided."
"Mister Goode," Fury said, suddenly interrupting the other man, intimidation hidden deep in his tone. "I believe it would be good for you to know that Miss Roslyn is under my protection now, as well as the protection of the other Avengers. I find it outrageous that you dare say such things to her, when in reality she is no different than your favorite scientist, Bruce Banner."
A healthy blush crept to William Goode's face. He and Fury were both giving each other intimidating stares. Smith, who seemed to sense the fact that a very heavy political argument was about to ensue, turned to me.
"It's been wonderful to meet you," he said cheerily. "But I do think I must speak to Director Fury as well as my other colleagues in private. Why don't you go enjoy the party? Dance, drink, mingle with your friends, and I will see you soon."
"Of course, Governor Smith," I said with a nod. "It was nice meeting you."
No one had to tell me twice. I was out of that situation as fast as my gold Jimmy Choo heels would allow. I moved through the people with a grace I didn't know I had, and somehow reached the bar in record time.
"A Coca Cola, please?" I said politely, rolling my pearl necklace between my fingers. The bartender glanced up, a flirtatious smile gracing his youthful features almost instantly.
"One Cola for the lady," he said, and I noted that his accent was British. "Not old enough for something stronger, I'm assuming?"
I wanted to roll my eyes, but traded the annoyed gesture for a flirtatious smile. "Yes, but not for too much longer," I said, looking up at him through thick eyelashes. He nodded in appreciation before cracking open the drink, pouring it into a glass that should've been holding champagne instead of Cola.
"So what brings you here?" he asked, sliding the drink to me, his fingertips brushing mine gently. "I thought parties like these were only for grumpy old politicians."
I took a sip of the fizzy beverage, allowing the sugary bubbles to roll down my throat. Ah, sweet refreshment. "I was dragged here," I said honestly. "Dragged against my will."
"I see," the bartender said. "Who dragged you, exactly, so I can go and argue with them that a pretty woman like you should be doing whatever she pleases rather than being at a boring ball?"
I gave a half-smirk, my eyes searching the room. "See that man over there?" I said, nodding at Tony, who was talking to a stern-looking woman, Pepper hanging onto his arm. "The one next to the woman in the blue dress?"
The bartender's blue eyes widened. His eyes were a pretty blue, I had to admit, but they had nothing on Steve's. "You mean Tony Stark?" he asked in disbelief. I nodded, taking another sip of my drink.
"Yeah, him. You see," I said, very humbly. "I'm his daughter."
His eyes widened further, if that was even possible, and his jaw dropped, making him look like a blue-eyed goldfish. "So you—" he began.
"Singlehandedly escaped S.H.I.E.L.D., took down a couple buildings in Manhattan, and sent the entire city of New York into a mad frenzy?" I finished. "Yup. Please, hold your applause."
The bartender looked at a loss for words. I suppose it was a good thing someone else was there to keep conversation going. "You'll have to excuse her," came Bruce's voice from behind me. "The Stark sass is sort of hereditary."
I turned around to face the scientist, a wide grin on my face. Bruce looked rather handsome in a onyx suit, his dark eyes shining brightly. "The Stark sass?" I said with a raise of my eyebrow. "I quite like the sound of that."
"I figured you would. That's why I said it," he said, returning my smile. "How are you holding up?"
I shrugged, taking another gulp of soda. "I'm alright, I guess. Just got done talking to Governor Smith and the rest of them," I nodded in the direction of the cluster of political people, who Fury was speaking to rather sternly. "But I was kind of shooed away after a William Goode proposed that I should be kept locked away."
Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Really?" he said, glancing over at Mister Goode, who was currently receiving a fierce look from Fury's one brown eye. "I guess I should go have a talk with him, then. He is, after all, a fan of the Other Guy."
I went to laugh, but I caught a movement behind Bruce caught my eye. My entire body froze. It was him. He was there, standing at the other end of the room. A tall man, with blonde hair, dressed in a pearl-white suit.
Rich Ian Ald.
He was here, at the governor's ball. My eyes widened in shock, my glass of Cola nearly slipping through my fingers. Ian Ald chuckled darkly, raising his glass to me, a deadly amused smirk on his face. He was mocking me. He was taking pride in my fright.
"Rosie?" Bruce asked, glancing over his shoulder to see what I was gaping at. "Are you alright? What on earth are you looking at?"
His eyes caught mine, concerned and worried. "N-nothing," I lied as considerably as I could. "I'm fine." I glanced back over his shoulder, expecting to be met by those brooding blue eyes again.
But he was gone. My last encounter with him rang through my mind.
"I'm in here, you see." He reached his finger up and tapped my head gently. "Everything you know, so do I."
I should've been expecting that maneuver from him. He had already proven that he'd go great lengths to try and break me, why would he stop at just nightmares? Nightmares were probably just the beginning. He was going to give me hallucinations now, make me think that I was crazy, have me see things that weren't really there. I could practically hear his cold laughter rippling through my head, the spot on my neck where he'd kissed me beginning to burn uncomfortably.
Get the hell out of my head.
"Are you sure, Rosie? You don't look fine," Bruce said, his eyes sweeping over my face. "You look kind of pale. Did you put something in her drink? Spiked it, have you?" Bruce asked, his eyes settling on the bartender.
"No, I swear!" the bartender said, moving backward uncomfortably. I didn't exactly blame him. You didn't want to be under Bruce's glare, especially when he had that fierce look in his eye.
"Bruce," I said, stepping between the bartender and my friend. "He didn't do anything wrong. I'm just feeling a bit faint. I probably just need a bit of fresh air, that's all."
"Alright," Bruce said, sending one last stern look over at the bartender before his shoulders relaxed. I gave him a small smile.
"I'm going to step out for a minute. Cover me if anyone comes looking for me, alright?" I said.
"Course."
"Thanks, Bruce," I said, picking up my infernally long dress, making my way out of the polished French double doors. The warm summer air hugged around me like a blanket. I smiled, the sky clear and the stars sparkling above me. The doors had led me to a large porch, complete with dim lights and patio furniture. The open windows from the party allowed the music to drift out onto the porch, which was astonishingly empty. I leaned against the cool golden railing, my mind tripping with thoughts of rich Ian Ald. He really was doing all he could to break me. And, to make matters worse, he had more tricks up his sleeve than I originally thought. Everywhere I went, he was there. He had surrounded me, backed me into a corner, made sure that there was no route of escape. But I was going to fight back with all I had. I was going to fight, or die trying.
Dying. I'd suddenly become painfully aware of my mortality. I glanced down at my blackened veins. This poison was my greatest curse, as well as my greatest blessing. It was literally killing me from the inside out, but without it, I'd still be lying in a hospital back in Los Angeles, trying to recover from a fractured spine and broken ribs.
The early summer wind blew the few loose strand of my hair back, causing them to tickle against my neck. I had to be ready for anything, I realized as I gazed up at the stars. I was up against rich Ian Ald, a murderer who had God knows how many tricks up his sleeve. I couldn't afford to take any risks. Not with him. I had to keep my guard up at all times now. He was in my head, but I couldn't let him win.
Then, as if on cue, the French double doors swung open.
That's right, I gave you all a cliffhanger! And right before Chapter 30 which is probably my favorite one so far! I may or may not update later today, or I could make you all wait for it! Hehe, I'm so excited. Anyways, please continue to follow/favorite/review, and THANK YOU THANK YOU to all those who do! I love y'all, and until next time!
-Charlotte
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