YIKES, last week was crazy!

Finally! I'm able to update!

Also, I fixed a few typos in the last chapter that were bothering me, and updated that as well. So sorry for the psyche out if it made you think there were two new chapters instead of one! (Psssh! I wish I had two chapters to upload! I've been dying not being able to write like I want to!)

Anyway! Hope you enjoy! And, after the week I had last week, I would love some love (in the form of reviews, I mean!), if you feel so inclined! LOL!

Happy Reading! :D

We pulled up to my hotel minutes later, and were greeted by the concierge, who looked overly happy to see us. "Ms. Matthews and Mr. Stark! How marvelous to see you both!" he chirped, as he practically bounded up to us in emphatic glee. I looked at him suspiciously, but Vanessa just clung to my arm like a jealous prom date and gave the man a fake, shark-like grin in return.

"And all of your arrangements are in order, sir," he murmured to me secretly. I frowned at him.

"Arrangements?" I asked with concern. "Arrangements for what?"

He just chuckled. "Of course, sir," he said, winking. " 'Arrangements for what?' Keeping the missus unawares. Or the soon-to-be missus, I should say!"

He toddled off, and, in confusion, all I could do was watch him leave our presence. "What arrangements?" I said, glancing nervously back and forth between the man and Vanessa. "I didn't make any arrangements. What is he talking about?" I asked her.

"Oh, you poor dear," Vanessa cooed, stroking my cheek and pouting sympathetically. "Is the tranquilizer addling your brain, again?" she asked.

I snatched her wrist up in my grip and gritted my teeth at her. "Vanessa, I didn't make any arrangements with these people!" I growled.

"Of course you did, love. I have the audio file to prove it," she purred, yanking her wrist away from my grip.

I looked at her with confusion. "What are your talking about? What audio file? What the hell is going on here?" I demanded.

She gave me a wry smile. "Honestly, Tony," she said. "What century do you think we're living in? How hard do you think it is to copy someone's voice and synthesize an entire conversation! These days it's practically done with the snap of your fingers."

I began to seethe. "Are you serious?! What are you? Some kind of spy? It's like I've been sucked into Mission Impossible! Who does this stuff?! Are you out of your mind?!" I asked, the volume of my voice creeping up steadily. The other patrons in the lobby were noticing our little spat, and looking at Vanessa and I uncomfortably. She just smiled awkwardly at them, and then promptly got in my face.

"Mind yourself, Stark!" she spat out in a hissing whisper. Then, almost animorphically, her expression changed to one of blissful happiness again. "Didn't you believe I was serious? You didn't really think I'd let you propose to me like some commoner, did you? We're practically royalty, darling! Or we will be, once the news of our engagement gets to the press! We need to give our adoring public a romantic story to start off our celebrity on the right foot. Wouldn't you agree?" she gushed.

I glared back at her. "What makes you think any of this is going to the press?" I asked.

"A certain redhead's head on a platter, if it doesn't. That's what," she said menacingly.

I gritted my teeth. "So help me, Vanessa. If you touch her, I'll..."

She looked at me innocently. "Oh! You'll what? What, Tony? What'll you do?" she goaded. Then she smiled devilishly. "My my, " she said, stroking my cheek again. Her touch sent shivers down my spine, and I recoiled in disgust. "I certainly hope your little darling is worth it! You're paying a hefty price for her well-being."

I glared at her again. "She's worth every bit of it," I replied sternly.

Vanessa clucked her tongue. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, and such a shame, too," she purred. "Oh, if she only knew the price you're willing to pay for her! What woman could turn down such a gallant gesture? Straight out of a fairy tale, it is," she said.

"It's more like a Stephen King novel," I retorted bitterly.

"Come now," Vanessa said, ignoring me, and grasping my hand to pull me toward the elevators. "We have quite a celebration ahead of us!" To which, I could only groan helplessly in response as I trudged behind her.

XxXxXxXxXx

We reached the top floor of the hotel, and the elevator doors opened onto an expansive ballroom, lavishly decorated with large crystal chandeliers and what must have been thousands of dollars worth of roses, in varying arrangements on display encircling a large circular table in the center dressed with fine linens, crystal, china, and silver flatware.

Next to me, I heard Vanessa gasp when she saw this, and she clapped a hand over her mouth as if she were completely unaware of what had been done. Just then, a string quartet that was seated in the corner began to play. I flicked my eyes to them, and then back to her, my horror growing at the sight of how grand this whole demented charade had become.

"Oh my darling! I don't know what to say! It's beautiful!" she said, curling herself around me like a snake. I just stood there, speechlessly,my chest heaving. Again, she ignored me and giggled, and then marched me to the table, where I plunked down heavily in one of the seats.

She chuckled awkwardly at me and seated herself across the table.

I let my eyes drift around the room, taking in all of the grotesqueness of the situation before I heard her voice. "A little wine, darling?" she asked, not bothering to wait for my reply before she began pouring me a glass.

I moved my eyes downward at the burgundy shadow it cast on the white table cloth, the image reminding me of all of those movies where some unsuspecting victim gets drugged or poisoned by drinking the wine. I knew Vanessa needed me alive in order to have all of her demands met, so my logical mind told me it wasn't likely that she'd poisoned the wine. But nothing was ever as it seemed with her, I'd come to realize. So far, she'd seduced me, drugged me, kidnapped me, and was now trying to extort me for everything I was worth. So, needless to say, I couldn't trust anything she put in front of me.

I pushed the wine away defiantly. She pouted. "It's a rare vintage, Tony. You simply must try it," she cooed, pushing the glass back in my direction insistently.

I stared at the glass cautiously, and then flicked my eyes back to hers. She was smiling and nodding, trying to goad me into taking a drink. "You first," I said, pushing the glass back in her direction.

She shrugged. "Very well," she said, swiping it and taking a long pull, looking at me with a smirk the whole time. She set it back down and nudged it back over to me. "There. Happy? My goodness, I do believe I've made you frightfully paranoid. I mean, really, Tony. Would I poison the man I'm going to marry?" she begged. "That doesn't make for a very happy ending, does it? My word. I'd have to be a...a..."

"Monster?" I offered flatly.

She beamed. "Yes! A monster. Thank you, darling. And I'm certainly not a..."

"Psychopath?" I offered again, sourly.

She groused at me. "No," she said sternly. "I'm not one of those, either."

I shrugged indifferently and looked away, swiping my wine glass off the table. Fine. So she hadn't poisoned the wine. Or spiked it with something mind-altering. So, at that moment, I decided I'd take matters into my own hands. If she thought I was gonna go down without a fight, she had another thing coming. I could be a real pain in the ass to be around. And it happened to be just the right time to show her.

I knocked back what she hadn't finished, and grunted as I swallowed it down hard. Then I leaned briskly forward and grabbed the bottle around the neck, sloshing more into my glass, filling it to almost brimming. Vanessa watched me with cold disapproval as I did this. But I disregarded her completely, and drank down the second glass. And then I poured another, and did the same with that one. After which, I let out a most ungentlemanly, but oh-so-righteous, belch. And then I smirked cockily at her before pretending to suddenly notice (or care) that she was looking at me with disgust. "Something wrong, sweetie?" I asked innocently.

"Don't you think you should slow down? We've only just arrived!" she said with annoyance.

"Nope!" I barked loudly "And you know what? I couldn't possibly have thrown together this little shindig because I definitely would've ordered more booze!" I said, as I dumped more of the bottle into my glass, filling it full. "Especially tonight! I plan to get hammered. Drunk off my ass. Three sheets to the wind. Blasted. Shit-faced..." I spat out bitterly.

"Enough!" Vanessa yelped angrily, slamming her fists down on the table, interrupting my tirade. The string quartet stopped abruptly, each member looking at each other anxiously. Vanessa's chin started to quiver, and tears began to roll down her cheeks. A little bit of me felt bad for making her cry (I know. How messed up is that?) but that instantly got tamped down by the feeling of victory in having rattled her cage. In having wrecked her demented little vision of what she wanted this whole production to be. A smug smile slowly crept across my lips.

"This was supposed to be special," she said, whining the last bit as she sobbed. "And you're ruining it!"

"Hey," I said, shrugging apathetically. "I am what I am, Vanessa. Warts, and all. And if I've gotta be married to you, then you're gonna have to deal with the real me in return."

She sniffed and looked at me curiously. "What do you mean?" she asked.

I smirked. "Oh, honey. You don't know the half of it," I growled. I left my seat to slink over to her, leaning in to murmur in her ear. "I can be a real prick when I wanna be," I said coolly. "And if you thought I was just going to go soberly and quietly into the matrimonial abyss, you were wrong. Dead wrong."

She glared at me. "Public humiliation? That's your strategy?" she asked.

"It's always been my game," I replied back. "And now you've given me somebody to play with," I said snidely.

"No!" she barked, standing up and marching over to me, her chest heaving. "I will not have you making a mockery of me!"

I waited, wild eyed and ready for the fight it seemed would be coming my way. Our faces were inches away when she suddenly recanted, and stood back up, looking at me. I could see the gears turning in her mind.

"More booze, you say?" she asked, a sly smile spreading across her lips. "If I get you your fill, will you be a happy baby again?"

I scoffed. "Happy isn't the word I'd use, but whatever. I can tell you none of this is going down if I have to stay dry doing it," I informed her. Pathetic, I know, but damn it! I hadn't come up with a plan yet in this whole mess that would spare Pepper and give me an exit strategy, and if I was going to be forced to propose to somebody, I was going to do it black out drunk. At least then, I stood a good chance of not remembering this nightmare.

Vanessa huffed. "Fine," she said. "I'll get you more. But first, I'd like to introduce you to someone."

Suddenly, the door to the ballroom opened, and a nurse pushing an old man in a wheel chair came in. The man looked completely despondent, barely aware of any of his surroundings. He was wearing a navy blue smoking jacket, house slippers, and a thick wool blanket over his lap. He seemed ancient, with his thin, crepe-like skin almost transparent in appearance. Only a few wisps of corn silk- colored hair laid across the top of his head. His complexion was sallow, his cheeks gaunt, and his eyes sunken in, giving him an unnerving, skeletal appearance. A stiff breeze could probably have ended him then and there, by my estimation.

"Daddy!" Vanessa squealed girlishly, running over to him.

"Daddy?" I gasped, horrified that the decrepit man before me was the once-proud Marcus Matthews. I remembered how regal and dignified he used to be, in decades past. He was always a proper English gentleman, and a titan among his colleagues. And to see him in this shape, so broken and withered, after only having a relatively short absence from the public eye, made me instantly suspect something was seriously amiss.

Vanessa planted a kiss on her father's cheek. He gave her a weak smile and then slowly turned to look at me. He raised a boney hand and gestured for me to come to him. I did as instructed, cautiously, my alarm raising with each step.

"Daddy? This is Tony Stark. My soon-to-be fiance!" she chirped happily.

"Come here and let me have a look at you, my boy," he croaked out in a hoarse whisper.

I glanced at Vanessa, who nodded encouragingly, and then back at Marcus. Then I slowly crouched down in front of his chair, and looked up into his eyes. Something caught me by surprise as I looked at him. I expected him to look rather oblivious, even mirthful at his daughter's seemingly happy occasion. But what I saw instead? Was quiet desperation. A silent pleading, as if he was begging me to help him in someway. Or begging me not to let what was happening happen.

"Sir?" I said questioningly. The look of fear in his eyes, hidden behind a weak smile, held me captive. I desperately wanted to do what he was needing me to do, for both of our sakes. I also couldn't shake the feeling that Vanessa had something to do with his current condition. And if I didn't watch out, I'd end up much the same way. But does he know what she's threatening to do if I don't comply? What choice do I have!, I thought to myself.

He patted my shoulder and nodded, as if he'd been able to read my thoughts in my expression.

"Your father. I remember him from New York," he said softly. "A good man, he was. Brilliant, and very enterprising."

I smiled at him. "Yes, sir," I replied, nodding.

He took my hand in both of his. His hands were very cold and clammy to the touch, and it ran a chill up my spine at how inhuman it felt. But I just stared intently into his eyes, unflinching. "Vanessa tells me you have his spirit. She seems to think you're a chip off the old block," he remarked.

I smiled warmly, and chuckled, despite myself. "I can only hope to be half as brilliant as he was," I replied. And that was the truth, too. In all of Pop's faults, the one thing I'd always aspired to was to be the kind of intellectual he was. (Not sure I will ever measure up, but let's just say it's kept me going a few times when I felt like throwing in the towel.)

Marcus smiled. As bizarre as this whole predicament was, I found myself feeling very comfortable in his presence. He was very kindly, almost grandfatherly. And I felt sorry for him, having someone like Vanessa as his daughter. "You will be, one day, my boy. One day," he said, smiling, his eyes sparkling just ever so slightly. He patted my hand very paternally, which made me smile in appreciation. But then Vanessa cleared her throat loudly and impatiently. Marcus glanced at her and suddenly the light left his eyes. "I give you my blessing," he said, with a wistful lilt, a hopelessness now taking over his expression. "Welcome to the family."

I stood up slowly, bewildered at what I was reading between the lines. He clearly didn't want me to marry Vanessa, that much I was able to deduce. But why, exactly? What was he unable to tell me? How was all of this affecting him?

"Uh...th-thank you...sir?" I said awkwardly.

He nodded solemnly in acknowledgement.

"Of course, dear boy," he replied with soft melancholy. I tried to search his face for any other clues as to why he was projecting this, but was interrupted by Vanessa's loud squeal and her jiggling up and down, bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly as she clapped her hands happily.

"Oh daddy! Thank you!" she cried. She ran over to him, giving him a loud smacking kiss on his cheek and a boisterous hug, which sent him gasping for air. The nurse behind him just looked at Vanessa with disapproval, rolled her eyes at her blatant disregard for her father, and looked away.

But Vanessa was oblivious to her father's current difficulty catching his breath, and swiveled back around to me.

I nodded to Marcus. "Your dad. Is he gonna be okay?" I asked with concern, as the poor man coughed and wheezed violently.

"Hmmmm? Oh, he's fine! Never better! Why do you ask?" she asked cluelessly.

I looked at her like she'd suddenly grown a third eye. "Vanessa, he's..."

Just then, she shot an annoyed look at the nurse, and gestured for her to leave. The nurse sighed heavily in reply and turned Marcus, who was still struggling to breathe, around in his chair and jabbed the down arrow for the elevator.

"Now, then!" Vanessa chirped. I tried to pay attention to her, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from her poor father, who was now being wheeled into the elevator by his nurse. She turned him back around, and gave me a pitiful look before the doors closed. I frowned, as Vanessa chattered in the background. Then, I heard her say my name.

When they were out of sight, I turned my eyes back to hers and sighed heavily, frowning. "I'm sorry. You were saying?" I asked pointedly.

She huffed with aggravation at me not listening to her babble, and reached inside her bra, producing the ring, holding it out in front of her. Then she smirked at me, and cocked an eyebrow. "I believe you have a question to ask me?" she purred.

I refused to take the ring from her, and defiantly shoved my hands in my pockets. "Booze first," I demanded coldly. "And lots of it!"