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Tony Stark had only just arrived at the banquet, yet he not only watched a spectacular show—he personally took part in it. That left him in an excellent mood.
For some reason, he suddenly understood why the old man had never been willing to let go of Stark Pictures. Being the center of attention really was intoxicating.
That flashy, attention-seeking streak in the Stark family seemed to be etched straight into their DNA.
That said, Tony Stark had never been particularly enthusiastic about ordinary social events.
The so-called toast was really just an excuse to drink.
Listening to a few of Stark Pictures' old-timers pledge their loyalty was merely a matter of recognizing faces he'd never met before. Unfortunately, those faces were utterly unremarkable—he'd probably forget who they were in three seconds flat.
As for the rest, the ones trying to ingratiate themselves, Happy and the entourage of secretaries could handle them.
What Tony Stark found most intolerable was a bunch of old men coming up to him, talking about how close they'd been with Howard and how they'd "take good care" of Tony, the young man.
Then they'd get straight to the point—asking for money, for investments. Calling it mutual support, when really they just wanted to trade empty words for real cash.
The only person Tony kept by his side was Henry Brown. He needed to give Henry enough attention so that others would also take Henry seriously.
That said, curiosity played a role as well. With the surrounding crowd kept at bay, the restless young tycoon finally asked,
"That recording—was it real?"
"The incident was real. The recording was fake. That's why those idiots panicked and got bluffed. Make sure your people don't actually send it for forensic analysis—it'll be exposed."
Tony froze. "You weren't worried they'd take it seriously and run it through official channels?"
"This case was never going to be handled properly. I was betting they wouldn't dare. Turns out my luck was pretty good."
"You despicable bastard," Tony said, shoveling food into his mouth as if venting his irritation. "Sometimes I really wonder how many of your words are actually true."
"Wiretaps and recording devices—I really do have those now. In fact, even as we speak, they're running. That's why using a jammer when you want to discuss secrets is a very smart move."
Tony's eyes widened as he stared at the man in front of him.
Henry shrugged nonchalantly, removed the cufflink from his left sleeve, placed it on the table, and slid it over.
Tony grabbed it and examined it closely. "This is… a microphone? Bluetooth tech? So the recorder is somewhere else?"
A true research genius—he figured it out almost instantly.
Tony casually tossed the cufflink back. Henry caught it neatly and reattached it to his sleeve.
"And the camera?" Tony asked.
"Let me keep a little mystery, boss. If you see through everything at a glance, I won't have many tricks left to show off. As for cameras… maybe I'm just bluffing."
Tony gave him a look that clearly said I don't believe a word of that and dropped the subject.
Henry continued, "Your father left behind devices like jammers—he must've also left plenty of surveillance and espionage equipment like this, right?"
"Crude junk from World War II," Tony replied. "I'm seriously considering giving all of it a proper upgrade."
"Ha. Better to protect yourself than deal with the aftermath," Henry said, downing his champagne and signaling for a refill.
Now that he technically outranked people, he could order them around—borrowed authority or not. As the saying went, power unused was power wasted, and he felt no guilt whatsoever.
"Have you thought about this?" Tony asked. "Making a scene like that today might scare certain people off. They won't even dare approach you anymore, let alone drag you into shady business. Otherwise they'd just be handing you evidence."
"Oh? Regretting hiring me already?" Henry smiled. "You can fire me anytime. Our contract lets either of us walk."
"Having you start and quit on the same day?" Tony clicked his tongue. "I'd lose too much face."
Then he asked, "Did you know the FBI would show up?"
Henry smiled. "Nope. Good thing I didn't believe a certain young master bragging that once I bore the Stark name, the FBI would scatter like demons hit with holy water.
"So I prepared in advance. Looks like that preparation paid off. Lucky me, right?"
He'd had far too many close calls with the cops lately—usually dodging them before they even realized he was there. But an event like today was unavoidable. All he could do was prepare and wait.
"Damn it!" Tony snapped, drained his champagne, and snapped his fingers—making Henry flinch instinctively. Tony was just calling his aide. "Happy, bring me something stronger."
Happy Hogan immediately arranged for a tray bearing a glass of whiskey to be delivered.
Along with it came Charlize Theron.
She'd been held back by Katherine earlier, and Henry had also signaled for her not to approach. Forced to watch the entire ordeal from afar, she'd been anxious to the point of agony.
Thankfully, things ended safely. Now it was her turn to storm over, ready to demand answers.
She didn't get the chance.
Henry pulled her in by the waist and lowered his head, sealing her lips with his.
It wasn't the right place for a deep kiss, so they separated almost immediately. But even that brief intimacy left Charlize gazing at him as if her eyes were bound to his face by invisible threads.
"I know you were worried about me—and that makes me incredibly happy," Henry said softly. "But that was something you couldn't help with. In moments like that, it's better for you to stay calm and observe, not rush out impulsively."
"Mm." Charlize nestled obediently into his arms.
In truth, even she wasn't sure whether she'd been worried about him—or about her own newly budding career, which might have been derailed by that sudden incident.
The thought filled her with shame, and she didn't dare meet his eyes.
The playboy billionaire, having been force-fed a mouthful of PDA, looked at the showy display. For once, he didn't bite back. Instead, he instructed calmly,
"Happy, let them in."
It was as if a switch had been flipped.
The banquet hall—rented from a hotel—suddenly filled with gorgeous, seductive women pouring in from all sides.
They wore provocative dresses, flaunting toned thighs, treating January in Los Angeles like the height of summer. Teasing, alluring, hovering right on the edge of indecency, they stirred men's imaginations.
DJ equipment rolled in. A disco ball spun, spraying multicolored lights everywhere. Thumping music shook people's chests.
Henry stared, dumbfounded, as Tony Stark was instantly surrounded left and right.
"This was your advice," Tony laughed. "Money's meant to be spent—keep the economy flowing.
"And with resources like Stark Pictures, not using them would be a waste. Don't worry, in addition to your salary, I'll approve a special executive PR budget. Hosting parties every day won't be a problem.
"Girls, shake those hips! This is my place—why does it feel like a funeral for old men? The wildest girl gets a prize! Henry, come on. This is your welcome party!"
Before Tony could even finish speaking, he was swallowed up by a swarm of beauties and dragged into the dance floor.
Meanwhile, Henry felt a lethal gaze boring into his chin, making his scalp prickle.
At this rate, next year today would probably be Iron Man's memorial anniversary.
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