AN: New week. Time to aim for the top 10. And yes, you'll get 2 chapters today. The next ch coming up soon.
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[Next Morning – Alex's Penthouse – 8:16 AM]
Alex lay stretched out on the couch with the tablet resting against his chest. The screen glowed with dashboard updates from the Titan merch division. His eyes moved slowly across the numbers and production reports. The new batch of Spider-Man bikes had sold out in twelve hours. The Black Widow clothing line and matching bikes were back-ordered in six countries. Iron Man helmets, gauntlets, and even a six-foot collector's prop had been shipped to buyers in record time.
On the DC side, Batman gadget sets were flying off the shelves. The Lantern ring collection had already sparked a wave of fan-led unboxing channels. Cyborg's full armor toy kit sold out in Japan within thirty minutes of launch. The logistics team was running on caffeine and sleep deprivation. Alex made a mental note to approve bonus packages before New Year's Eve.
In the other corner of the room, his phone buzzed. Rachel had sent a new update on the January 1st global perfume launch. Two container shipments had cleared customs. One was stuck in the Suez Canal. Alex flagged it and added a note for Rachel to negotiate airlift backup in case of further delay.
He was scrolling to the next report when a weight dropped hard onto his stomach.
Max straddled him without warning, her knees pressing into the cushion on either side of his hips. She wore black joggers and a graphic tee that read: Queen of Sudden Plans. Her hair was pulled into a high, unbothered bun, and her grin was trouble wrapped in her signature red lip gloss. Her black eyeliner made her look even more sexy.
Alex put the tab on the table beside on and then shifted his attention to the sexy girl on top of him. "So, what can I do for you today, Milady?"
She grinned wider and leaned down until her face hovered inches above his. "I made a plan."
"Oh boy."
"We're going to Coney Island," she declared. "All the girls. There's a new theme park that opened up. Rides, games, overpriced snacks, and an obnoxious amount of neon. I called Evangeline. Claire's in too. Scarlett had a free day. Caroline's obviously glued to my hip like always."
Alex arched an eyebrow. "And when did you decide all this?"
"30 minutes ago."
He smirked. "You mean you woke up, saw sunlight, and decided to drag half of Hollywood into your girl gang on a sugar-and-roller-coaster suicide run."
"Exactly." Max leaned down and kissed him lightly on the lips, then sat up straight again. "But there's one thing I want from you before we go."
Alex narrowed his eyes. "This sounds expensive."
"I want you to give Rachel a break today."
He blinked. "Rachel?"
"She's been running Titan like it's the Pentagon. She barely blinks anymore. I think she's started dreaming in pie charts. I want her to take the day off. You can manage without her for one day."
Alex let out a low laugh and narrowed his eyes with a naughty smirk. "That will cost you."
Max leaned forward again. Her face was just an inch away from him. "How much?"
"Ten sloppy kisses. Minimum. Not one of those fake air kisses or your drive-by lip taps. I want full-contact, disgustingly romantic, tongue-and-all kisses."
Max licked her lips, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Deal."
Before Alex could react, she pressed her lips to his and started kissing him like she was making up for lost time. The first kiss was deep and messy as she sucked and licked his lips. The second was slower, wetter, like she was daring him to keep count. By the third, she was already laughing against his mouth, her tongue flicking playfully before pulling back and diving in again. The fourth kiss was urgent, as if they were both starved for intimacy. Their teeth clashed, and Max pulled away, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Four down, six to go," she teased. "You doing all right down there, Moneybags?"
Alex groaned, feeling his control slipping. Max trailed her fingers down his chest, lingering at his waistband. She leaned in for the fifth kiss.
By the seventh kiss, Alex's hands were squeezing Max's butt cheeks. Her body was pressed against his, and he could feel her heart beating as fast as his. Their lips moved desperately, tongues twining in an unspoken agreement to forgo the last three kisses and move on to the more important things before they lose control and end up having sex on the couch.
For the next five minutes, they kissed and sucked on each other's mouths and tongues hungrily, losing count.
Alex turned on his side as they fell on the floor. He was on top. Max quickly wrapped her legs around his waist as he continued to kiss her again, and again. His right hand went under her shirt as he grabbed her big boobs and began to squeeze. Her breath hitched when he sucked on her bottom lip and bit down lightly. She kissed him back with equal fire, tracing his back muscles with his fingers.
They were deep in it now, hands everywhere, kissing like it was oxygen.
The sound of bare feet padding across the floor barely registered until a voice cut in.
Caroline walked in from the hallway and paused when she saw them on the floor, tangled together like horny teenagers who had lost track of time and decency. She sighed, shook her head with practiced tolerance, and walked past them without a word. She opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and leaned back against the counter as if she didn't just walk past two adults dry-humping in the middle of the living room.
'I'll make out with him tomorrow and it's gonna be naked, just you wait,' She thought.
She drank water, watched them for a moment before walking upstairs.
Seconds later, Scarlett's voice came from the stairs.
"Jesus Christ," she said as she walked down the stairs in jeans and a black shirt, hair curled and makeup already done. "Max, how are you this horny before 9 a.m.? Do you have a backup battery in your vagina?"
Max didn't pause. "I'm powered by kisses and Alex's abs."
Scarlett stopped at the bottom of the stairs, eyeing the pile of limbs on the floor. "You two look like a sex scene in a teen slasher movie. One of you is definitely dying in Act Two."
Alex laughed and rolled off Max, lying on his back beside her. Max rested her head on his chest, her lips still red and swollen.
"We were working out a deal," she said innocently. "Ten sloppy kisses. Fair exchange for giving Rachel a day off. But we kinda lost count in the middle."
Scarlett picked up a pillow from the couch and threw it at them. "Arg! Get up and fix your makeup. You have 15 minutes to prep. And you..." She narrowed her eyes and looked at Alex. "... We'll talk later." She paused for a moment and then spoke, "In private." There was a little fire in her eyes that Alex noticed.
'Oh boy, the fire has been lit.' Alex thought.
[10:00 AM]
The penthouse door clicked shut behind the last of the girls. Their laughter lingered in the hall as the elevator whisked them down. Coney Island had no idea what was coming.
Alex stood by the window, watching the skyline shift in the morning sun. His hair was still damp from a quick rinse, a towel slung over his shoulder. He held his phone to his ear as it rang once before connecting.
"John," Alex said calmly. "They just left. I want eyes on them all day."
"Already deployed," John replied. "Team Delta is in shadow formation. We'll keep three zones clear and one in rotation."
"No slip-ups this time," Alex said. "If anything feels off, pull them immediately."
"Understood."
Alex ended the call and set the phone down. He glanced at the quiet room. The chaos was gone. No more kisses or sarcasm or pillows flying. Just silence and sunlight.
Time to get something useful done.
He went to his work desk and began to generate the remaining Harry Potter books, then a couple of comics, and finally, a 30-episode script for the Batman animated series.
After that, he worked a few hours from home and then took a long nap.
...
[Angelina's Apartment – 8:30 PM]
Max pinged Alex, saying they would be going to the diner and might be late, and wished him good luck. He closed his phone, put it in his pocket, and took a deep breath.
Alex pressed the doorbell and stepped back. He was wearing a blue suit. The bottle of red wine in his hand was wrapped in a black satin gift bag.
The door opened slowly.
Angelina stood there barefoot in a black wrap dress, her hair tied up in a soft bun with a few strands falling loose around her face. The neckline dipped just enough to suggest confidence, but the minimal makeup and bare shoulders said something quieter. Something thoughtful. Her eyes met his and held steady.
'God! Help me. She's gorgeous,' Alex thought.
"You're on time," she said, not smiling, but not cold.
"I try to be," he replied, holding up the wine. "Figured we could use something smooth tonight."
She stepped aside without speaking and let him in.
Her apartment was softly lit, warm, and elegant in a way that felt lived in but intentional. Jazz played low from a speaker tucked near the bookshelf. A candle flickered on the dining table, which was already set for two. The air smelled like roasted garlic, lemon, and something buttery. He caught a glimpse of a pan on the stove and a small salad already plated.
She walked ahead of him into the kitchen, tying her wrap a bit tighter as she moved. He followed her in and set the wine on the counter.
"You cooked?" he asked.
Angelina shrugged lightly. "I figured if I was going to make a decision tonight, I should do it on a full stomach."
"Fair logic," he said. "Smells incredible."
She poured water into two glasses and nodded toward the table. He moved to pull out her chair, but she waved him off.
"Sit. You're not hosting tonight. I am."
He obeyed without protest.
She served him first. Pan-seared lemon chicken with rosemary, a side of truffle mashed potatoes, and roasted asparagus. It was clear she had taken her time. Every detail was clean, symmetrical, but not robotic. It looked like food meant to impress, but also meant to comfort.
She sat across from him and picked up her fork.
For a while, they ate in silence. Not awkward silence. Just two people who understood the weight of the moment.
Alex finally spoke. "You look beautiful."
Angelina looked up. "I know."
He grinned slightly. "Still hard to compliment you."
"It's not hard. You just need to mean it. And you did." She took a bite and paused. "Max told me to make you work for it." She talked to all the girls about how this relationship thing works and well, let's just say, it was an exclusive girls' chat over conference call. She got everything she needed to know.
"Ha! I'm not surprised."
"She said if I just rolled over and joined the club without pushing back, I'd end up feeling like a tourist. Or worse, a footnote."
"And what do you think?" he asked.
Angelina set her fork down and leaned back.
"I think you're not the kind of man people walk away from easily. I've seen it in their eyes. Max, Caroline, Lilly, Scarlett, even Rachel. There's something about you that pulls people in and makes them forget how complicated the fire is until they're already in the smoke."
Alex didn't interrupt. He let her speak.
"I'm not upset with you. I've had time to reflect, and I realize that you didn't lie to me or sell me a fairy tale. You told me the truth and gave me a choice. That means more to me than living in a fantasy built on half-truths and secrets in a monogamous relationship."
She paused and reached for her glass of water.
"But I don't want to be an ornament in your empire. I don't want to be just another part of the Titan constellation orbiting around the sun. If I say yes, I need to know there's space to burn in my own way."
"You'd never be just a part," Alex said quietly. "Not to me."
Angelina nodded. "Then here's my answer."
She stood up and walked around the table, stopping behind his chair. He turned slightly to look at her, but she leaned down and kissed him softly on his lips. It was just a little passionate kiss.
"I'm in," she whispered. "But on my terms. No pretending. No putting me in a category. I'm not Max. I'm not Caroline. I'm not Scarlett. I'm me."
He turned his head slowly, their faces just inches apart.
"And what does that mean, exactly?"
"It means you'll find out."
She kissed him again, slow and intentional. When she pulled back, she whispered against his mouth.
"You better not screw this up."
He smirked. "I don't plan to."
They didn't rush dessert. They finished the meal. She served small scoops of homemade pistachio gelato. They sipped the wine. They talked about her upcoming stunt rehearsals, shooting dates, and Christmas.
Around late at night, Alex finally stood up. It was time to go.
Both of them stood at the door, looking into each other's eyes.
"So..." Alex said in a low voice. "I'll see you tomorrow at the range?"
Angelina nodded slowly. She reached for the doorknob, but didn't turn it right away.
"I'll be there. And I won't go easy on you," she said.
Alex stepped a little closer. "I wouldn't expect anything less."
They stood quietly, the weight of the night hanging between them like a held breath. The wine, the food, the kiss—it all settled into something real. Just two people making a decision that would change everything going forward.
Alex reached out and tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. She didn't flinch. She held his gaze. "You sure about this?" he asked one more time, not with doubt, but with respect. This was the last chance to pull back.
Angelina gave the smallest smile. "I don't do half-measures, Alex. You'll figure that out soon enough."
He smiled too, then leaned down and kissed her forehead. It was soft and gentle. Not the kiss of a man trying to claim someone, but of someone recognizing her strength.
When he pulled back, she opened the door for him.
"Goodnight, Angelina."
"Goodnight, Alex."
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