"Luke, the President's team called. They'd like your confirmation for tomorrow's meeting at the White House."
"You know my calendar better than me, D.A.I.S.Y. You can confirm things like this on your own," I said with a grin.
"I still need your confirmation. Who knows when you'll suddenly throw the schedule off and rearrange the whole day?" D.A.I.S.Y. replied with a pout.
"Well, I deserve that jab," I admitted with a wry smile, lifting my glass of juice. "But I don't regret taking the day off at all."
Stretching out, I crossed one leg over the other and sank deeper into the beach chair, letting the warmth of the fading sun wash over me. Shirtless, relaxed, and surrounded by the sound of waves crashing against the shore, I was in one of my newly finished private resorts—still closed to the public. The orange glow of the sunset above the horizon, paired with the sharp sweetness of fresh orange juice, felt like the perfect reward after weeks of chaos.
"Who knew just announcing the Space Station Citadel would make me this busy? We're not even close to the launch date yet," I muttered, taking another sip.
"I did tell you that exact thing when we first planned this," D.A.I.S.Y. said through the Focus device tucked in my ear. "But you insisted that you would be able to manage. You said getting the Citadel operational as soon as possible was the priority. And now, all you're really asked to do is appear at shows, shake hands, smile for cameras, and be the face of this operation. That visibility brings in more funding and eases both national and international pressure on the Watson Group."
"But it's so boring repeating the same lines to different people," I sighed, my mind drifting to far more entertaining possibilities—like spending time in the arms of a dozen beautiful women instead of entertaining middle-aged politicians for television. "Couldn't Sage handle this? I made her COO of the Watson Group for exactly this reason."
"Sage doesn't have that kind of public recognition yet. Right now, only you and Pepper are the faces of Watson Group. And since Pepper has gone back to Stark International, that leaves you as the sole representative." D.A.I.S.Y.'s voice was even, though a touch of admonishment slipped in. "Besides, Sage is already overloaded managing the group and overseeing the island where the Citadel is being built. As CEO, you need to step up and stop postponing meetings like you did today."
"Alright, alright, I get it," I said with a wry smile, feeling weird for being scolded by my own A.I.
Still, I understood why she was so particular about this. The Watson Group wasn't just juggling government scrutiny—we were under pressure from rival corporations and even the public. Over the years, thanks to generous donations and a few… less public methods, we have carved out a strong voice in this country's politics. Some foreign nations like Symkaria had even aligned themselves quietly in our favor. But the truth was simple: the Watson Group was still too young. We didn't yet command the respect—or the fear—that the true titans of industry enjoyed.
That was why business rivals kept pushing back, both privately and publicly. They still viewed the Watson Group as nothing more than an investment firm holding stock in other companies. It wasn't until we moved decisively into the space sector, aiming to plant ourselves as one of its future pillars, that they finally recognized the threat we posed.
Which was exactly why I had insisted on such a fast launch window. In three months, there was little any government or corporate alliance could do to derail us. And once the Citadel was in orbit, those same voices of opposition would come crawling, desperate to curry favor.
Still, one battlefield couldn't be ignored—public opinion. If the people supported the Citadel, governments and corporations alike would be forced to fall in line. But if public sentiment turned against us, it could all collapse. And so, my role became clear: the handsome, brilliant, young billionaire bachelor standing before the cameras, charming the masses into believing the Watson Group was capable of putting a behemoth into space safely—that we weren't about to trigger another Fantastic Four like disaster.
Of course, it wasn't just me. D.A.I.S.Y. and Skye had worked tirelessly to tip the scales of online sentiment. Who cared if half the voices cheering us on were bots or paid shills? Once the Citadel was floating above the Earth, those manufactured voices would harden into reality.
"I should stop thinking about work and just relax for the day," I muttered, sipping my juice. "Ahh, such a pleasant view… though it feels like something's missing," I added, eyes lingering on the setting sun.
"Luke."
The hesitant, sweet voice made me turn. I slipped off my sunglasses and glanced to the side.
Standing there was Jean Grey—fair-skinned, her red hair falling freely down her shoulders, a blush on her face. She wore a one-piece green swimsuit that matched her eyes perfectly.
"How do I look?" she asked shyly, cheeks still pink.
For a moment, I was captivated. "Even more beautiful than the sunset itself, Jean," I said with a smile.
She let out a small laugh, walked near and swatted my forearm lightly. "You're so corny."
"I was only telling the truth," I replied, taking her hand and brushing a kiss against the back of it.
"Stop it," she said, flustered but smiling as she pulled her hand back. "I actually bought this swimsuit back in school. We had planned a beach picnic, but I quit before we ever went… so I never had the chance to wear it. I was worried it wouldn't even fit me anymore." Her voice softened, embarrassed as she sat down on the chair beside mine.
The swimsuit hugged her form snugly, showing off her long legs, her fair arms, and just enough cleavage to make her look extra sexy. I could only imagine how long she must have stood in the changing room before gathering the courage to walk out.
"Trust me," I said, my gaze drawn helplessly to her sexy figure. "It looks perfect on you."
"Thanks," Jean said, looking away, embarrassed yet clearly happy.
"Here, have some orange juice," I offered, handing her a glass to ease her nerves.
She accepted it with a small smile and a shake of her head. "I still can't believe you booked an entire resort just for our date."
"Well, I remembered you once said you didn't like crowded places," I replied warmly. "So, a private beach resort felt like the perfect choice. Besides…" I grinned, "I wanted our first date to be memorable."
Her lips curved into a troubled smile. "But this is still a lot, Luke. You didn't have to waste so much money on me. I would've been just as happy if we had grabbed burgers at a local diner."
"You don't have to worry about that," I reassured, gently placing my hand over hers. "This resort is one of several owned by the Watson Group. It's mostly used as an incentive for employees and their families. And this one hasn't even officially opened yet, so technically, it's costing me nothing."
Of course, in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but think I wouldn't have minded buying the whole resort outright—if it meant seeing her in this swimsuit.
Jean tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear, while holding my hand, her cheeks still pink. "Alright… if you say so. I just feel bad I lost the bet, but I still get to enjoy a day like this. When the other girls hear about it, they're going to be so jealous." She let out a wry laugh.
"Is that why you didn't tell anyone? Sneaking out of the Professor's house for our date?" I teased.
"No," she said quickly, avoiding my eyes. "It's just… there wasn't really anyone to tell. Marie and Kitty went shopping at the mall with Ororo. They invited me, but I didn't need anything, so I stayed behind. And then I thought… instead of wasting the day at home, I should finally take you up on that date you had offered."
She took her hand back and hid her face in the rim of her glass as she drank, but the faint blush creeping up her cheeks gave her away.
"Hmm, then what about Scottie? You didn't tell her either, right?" I asked with a smirk.
Jean's lips curved into a teasing smile. "She would've just gotten unnecessarily worried. Scottie still thinks you're a big playboy, so she keeps telling me to be careful around you. Although…" she tilted her head, her green eyes glinting, "she has been changing her opinion lately—especially after you gifted her that bike."
"Well," I chuckled, "looks like I'll need to gift her a whole garage of bikes if I want her... approval."
Jean blinked, then stammered, "Wh-what do you mean, approval... approval of us?" She quickly looked away, twirling a strand of her red hair around her finger.
"I just meant her approving the next date, so you don't have to sneak out next time," I said with a teasing grin. "What were you thinking?"
"Hmph, nothing," she muttered, flipping her hair with mock indifference. "And don't think it'll be that easy. She kept boys away from me all through school! She's like my overprotective big sister. You won't win her over with just a couple of shiny bikes." Jean stuck her tongue out at me.
"Then there's only one solution," I said with a sly grin. "Invite her along with us. I bet she would look pretty good in a swimsuit too." A mental image of Scottie in a red, curve-hugging swimsuit flickered across my mind.
Jean's face turned bright red. "Ha! You're so bad," she said, swatting my arm with a playful pout.
I just smiled at her. She didn't realize the truth—that every girl at Xavier's place was technically on my list to charm. But Jean came first. Even when Marie wanted to spend more time alone with me, I had to focus on Jean. As she wasn't just gorgeous; she was dangerous.
Jean Grey was a ticking time bomb—one wrapped in beauty, passion, and terrifying power. Not an ordinary bomb either, but one carrying the Phoenix Force. I still didn't know if she already had it inside her or if she would get it in the future, but I was certain of one thing: Professor Xavier was suppressing her true powers with psychic blocks.
To convince the Professor to remove those mental blocks, I first needed to win Jean over and tell her the truth myself. But it was a delicate subject—if I pushed too hard or handled it poorly, everything could backfire. That was why gaining her full trust mattered. And, of course, it helped that Jean already had a crush on me.
"W-why are you staring at me like that?" Jean asked, tucking a strand of red hair nervously behind her ear as her green eyes met mine.
"I was just thinking how lucky I am to be on a date with the beautiful Jean Grey," I said with a smile.
She blushed, her lips curving into a shy grin. "If you use all these corny lines on the first date, you'll have nothing left for the second."
"I don't think I'll ever run out—even if it was for a lifetime," I replied confidently.
"You never stop," she murmured, flustered, before quickly pulling her phone out of her bag. "Let's… take a picture." She raised it awkwardly for a selfie but struggled to get us both in frame.
"Here, let me." I reached out to take the phone, adjusting for the angle. Jean leaned closer, shifting onto the edge of her chair—
"Ah!" Her chair wobbled and tipped, and she instinctively clung to me. The sudden pull knocked my beach chair over too, and we both tumbled into the sand.
"You okay?" I asked quickly, having caught most of the impact on my hands. I ended up lying on top of her.
"Yeah," she said with a light laugh, brushing sand from her arm. "It's just sand."
That laugh, those bright green eyes, her soft rosy lips right beneath me—it was impossible to ignore. I started leaning closer.
"What… are you doing, Luke?" she whispered, her breath quickening as her gaze locked on mine.
"Continuing what we couldn't finish back in that library," I murmured before closing the distance and sealing her lips in a kiss.