"Mr. Gibson is quite bold," he said stiffly. "To raise so high without capital."
James leaned forward, voice edged. "What's there to fear? In the end, the money came from you. If I lost, it still stayed in your pocket. Why mourn it?"
His words stung the heart.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gilson Marbury stopped talking to James and turned toward Tony Stark. His half-smile didn't reach his eyes.
"Mr. Stark, where's your date? That stunning reporter who came with you."
Tony leaned back, glass in hand, the picture of careless charm. "How would I know? I meet more beautiful reporters in a year than I can count. She left, I assume. Why should I care where she goes?"
Gilson's smile sharpened. "Really? Because this particular reporter just turned up in my vault. Care to explain that?"
Tony blinked once, as if the words barely registered, then gave a dry chuckle. "My vault? Your vault? If she broke in, you should call the police. A woman like that deserves a lesson." His grin turned crooked. "I hadn't even made a move on her and she ran off. Typical."
James stayed quiet, watching Gilson's eyes flick between him and Tony. He could tell Gilson wasn't really angry about the vault — that was just the excuse. The man's real focus was on the check still tucked in James's right hand. Gilson had lost a fortune at the poker table tonight, money he didn't have, and now he wanted it back.
'So that's what this is,' James thought. 'He's building an excuse to make a move.'
Subtly, he shifted his stance — right foot forward, ready to strike if needed.
Gilson's tone hardened beneath his polite veneer. "Mr. Stark, you brought a thief into my home. I need to know how to explain this to the authorities — or perhaps you have a better solution?"
In truth, he wasn't thinking about police reports. Gilson Marbury was desperate, drowning in debt, and the check in James's hand was his only lifeline. If he could twist this situation — use the reporter as leverage — maybe he could claw something back. He couldn't afford to make an enemy of Tony Stark, but bluffing was second nature to a man who'd just lost everything.
Tony's grin widened, all sharp teeth and arrogance. "Heh. The women around me change by the day, Marbury. What they do is their business, not mine. If they're gorgeous, that's enough. Whether they're thieves or angels — who cares? Maybe you don't know much about that sort of thing."
The insult hung in the air like the spark before a fire.
Gilson didn't take the bait. He laughed instead — a humorless, brittle sound. "In that case, gentlemen, why don't I show you both a little entertainment? You'll find it… illuminating."
James stepped in, his tone cool. "Fine by me. But if this 'show' isn't worth our time, we're leaving."
"Oh, I promise you," Gilson said with a wicked grin, "you'll be satisfied."
He turned and led them out of the room, down the marble hallway to the surveillance suite on the first floor. The room buzzed with the low hum of monitors.
Gilson gestured toward one of the screens. "There she is. Your reporter."
James followed his gaze — and froze. On the grainy feed, Natasha Romanoff sat slumped against the vault wall, pale and motionless. The sealed vault had no ventilation. Their card game had lasted nearly two hours.
Tony's smirk vanished. "She's been in there this whole time?"
For once, the billionaire playboy's voice held no trace of amusement — only shock.
"That's the show?" James asked Gilson Marbury.
"That's right. It's relatively easy to get into my vault, but it's difficult to get out. The security system here is very interesting. Most people don't know what's going on inside."
"Oh? Care to tell me all about it? I want to make a vault for my new found money." James asked with interest.
Gilson Marbury pointed at the monitor, his tone full of pride.
"The first vault door opens with a password — nothing fancy by today's standards. Same with the small safe inside. But here's where it gets interesting."
He smirked, tapping the screen where Natasha sat trapped inside.
"Once you're in, you have to disable the infrared alarm before opening that inner safe. If you don't, the outer door seals itself automatically. From the inside, there's no way to reopen it. Creative, isn't it? I had it custom-built — a death trap for anyone foolish enough to sneak in."
James nodded slowly, pretending to admire it. "Clever. You've got quite the imagination, Mr. Marbury. Most thieves wouldn't think to turn off an alarm after they're already inside."
Gilson chuckled darkly. "Now then, gentlemen — anything else to say? If not, why don't we sit back and enjoy the show? Such a shame… she really is a beautiful thief."
James's voice turned cold. "Since you admit she's beautiful, why not invite her out? I'm sure she'd be very cooperative right now."
He was baiting Gilson, trying to get him to open the vault before it was too late.
But Gilson only grinned, shaking his head. "Do you take me for a fool? Who knows who she really is — or what she's capable of? No, it's safer this way. Maybe I'll keep her as a souvenir. A human specimen, perhaps."
James stared at him, disgust flickering in his eyes. 'This guy's really that cruel, he thought. No wonder he's still dealing weapons underground.'
He glanced at the screen again. Natasha was slumped against the wall, breathing shallowly. Time was running out.
"Alright," James said evenly, hiding his urgency. "I like her. What do you want in exchange, Mr. Marbury?"
Gilson's face brightened. "That's easy. Give me the check you won tonight, and she's free. Fair trade, don't you think?"
James burst into laughter. "You must be joking. You'd trade one woman for a check worth 1.7 billion dollars? For that kind of money, I could go to Hollywood and buy myself a dozen just like her."
Gilson's smile faltered. He was gambling — hoping one of them actually cared about Natasha. "So you don't care, then?"
James shrugged. "Not exactly. But 1.7 billion is ridiculous. Let's talk business instead. Your real estate project's short on funds, right? I'll invest 1.5 billion into it. Sound better?"
Gilson snorted. "If I wanted investors, I'd have found them already. I don't need your charity."
"Don't worry," James said, his tone turning cold. "I haven't finished yet. In addition to the money, I'm taking a stake in your life."
The sudden shift in his voice made Gilson Marbury flinch. He stumbled back a step, his left hand instinctively reaching toward his right — but James was faster.
They were still in the surveillance room. A few of Gilson's bodyguards stood nearby, but none of them moved; no one expected a billionaire to attack someone himself.
In an instant, James closed the distance between them. He seized Gilson's wrist and twisted sharply.
"Ah—!" The fat man let out a cry of pain as his arm was forced behind his back. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor, groaning as James pulled his right arm higher, locking him in place.
"Phew…" Gilson panted through gritted teeth. "What do you think you're doing? If anything happens to me, none of you will leave this villa alive!"
James smiled thinly. "Heh. Tony's Iron Man, remember? And I've got my own armor. We can blast our way out of here anytime we like. When it's over, we'll just say you tried to rob us for the check. After all, everyone knows you've been short on money lately."
As Gilson wheezed and struggled, James's eyes shifted to the ring on the man's finger — the very item Natasha had been searching for. He studied it carefully, but at first glance, it looked completely ordinary.
Still… he had a feeling it wasn't.