"Madam, your dinner and wine."
Jack Kadere heard the voice outside the private cabin. His Spider-Sense suddenly flickered, flashing like a flipbook of danger cues— Whoosh! Whoosh! Images ran through his mind as if he were flipping through a deck of cards.
He quickly confirmed: only one flight attendant was outside, and no cameras faced the door.
Using his subtle telekinetic gift, he unlocked it with a click. "Bring it in, the door's not locked," Jack said casually.
[Not locked?] [Huh? Why a man's voice?] [Didn't a woman reserve this private cabin?]
The young flight attendant opened the door, startled. "Ah!"
Inside, Barbara stirred. She brushed back her golden hair, revealing a half-sleepy but dazzling face, her gaze drifting toward the entrance. Realizing it was just a flight attendant, she lost interest and leaned back again.
Figures… the flight attendant thought, cheeks heating. But wow… this woman is stunning.
Forcing composure, she set the meal down before Jack. "Please… enjoy your meal."
"Thanks," Jack smiled politely. "And when you leave, please close the door behind you."
"Of course…" She walked away, though her steps wavered slightly as if her balance had gone with her composure.
...
"Hoo-ha…" Barbara finally sighed, her previous impulse fading, though a warm haze still lingered.
She glanced out the oval window. Stars glittered across the velvet sky. The moon gleamed like polished silver, and clouds tore past as the jetliner soared above Europe.
Her eyes shifted back to Jack.
He was scrolling lazily on his phone, a faint rhythm spilling from the speakers—upbeat music from some dance video.
Barbara puffed her cheeks. "Hey, you're enjoying yourself a little too much, aren't you?"
She leaned over, only to spot the screen—dancers moving in sync, glamorous and confident.
"You—you're watching other women?" she blurted, half teasing and half annoyed.
Jack chuckled. "Don't be mad." He slid closer, draped a sheet over her shoulders, and said lightly, "It's a beautiful night. Perfect for dinner."
Barbara tilted her head. "Dinner? What kind of tone is that?" She smirked, puzzled but amused.
(He got head, she got some protein refill)
Her gaze fell on the tray: steak, lamb chops, and wine, perfectly arranged. It smelled delicious. But she frowned and pouted. "…It's your fault. I don't even feel hungry anymore."
Jack carved a slice of lamb chop and popped it into his mouth. "You're the one who clung to me in the first place."
Barbara narrowed her eyes. "With this view of the night sky, a candlelight dinner, and a world-class beauty like me right beside you, you're getting a bargain."
"You're the first woman I've met who openly calls herself a beauty," Jack said with a grin. "But hey, confidence is attractive."
He handed her the wine. "Here, drink. Red wine will clear the taste. Believe me, I've helped more than one charming girl handle this kind of situation."
"Mmh…" Barbara accepted suspiciously, then drank in gulps.
A thought struck her mid-swallow. "Wait—don't tell me you're trying to get me drunk so you can do bad things?"
Jack raised his brow. "What, me?"
She quickly caught herself, cheeks burning. Her training as a SHIELD agent made her wary—she almost lowered her guard there. Despite their teasing and occasional reckless closeness, she still held onto her final line.
"Eat before it gets cold," Jack said warmly. He reached out, brushing away a droplet of red wine from her lips with his thumb. His smile was calm, almost tender. "By the time you wake up, we'll be in Monaco. Rest easy."
Barbara's neck instinctively pulled back, her fair cheeks flushing at the sudden intimacy. "…You really are a bad man."
....
Hours passed.
Knock, knock.
"Jack," Stephen Strange's voice came from the next cabin. "We're about to land. You might want to wake up."
The door beside his clicked open.
Jack leaned out, toothbrush in his mouth, foam everywhere. "Morning, Stephen."
Strange raised an amused brow. "Morning? In Monaco, it's late afternoon. Did Ms. Barbara throw your sense of time off balance?"
Jack smirked. "If anyone's lost balance, it's her." He called inside, "Barbara, you ready? We're landing."
"I've been ready for ages. You're the slow one."
Barbara stepped out with her suitcase, playful fire in her tone. "I'll head down first. Wait for you boys at the exit."
Strange watched her stride away and chuckled. "Huh. Yesterday she looked like a femme fatale. Today she looks like a college freshman."
Her blonde hair was tied in neat pigtails, and she wore lively sportswear, sneakers bouncing. A totally different aura from the mature, sultry agent she'd played before.
"Women change faster than magic," Jack quipped, finishing his rinse. "Let's go."
....
Barbara leaned casually on her suitcase handle, chin resting on her arm. She hummed a little tune, the kind that carried across a busy terminal.
Her posture was striking, her style radiant, drawing second glances from nearly everyone passing.
Jack and Strange descended together a few minutes later. The three of them, side by side, looked like a poster shot—every head in the airport seemed to turn.
Jack shifted uncomfortably. "Feels like everyone's staring. Did you guys arrange private transport?"
Barbara's hand slipped into his. "I'm riding in yours."
Strange adjusted his coat. "Mine's waiting already. Do we go straight to Stark?"
"No hurry," Jack said, thumbing open his phone. "We're in Monaco. I want to check out a casino first."
Barbara arched a brow. "Gambling? Really?"
She recalled the legend of this "Vice President" —rumors whispered through circles connected to the fan club—that Jack Kadere was unbeatable when he set foot at any gambling table.
....
Monte Carlo Casino
"C'mon, give me some luck~"
Tony Stark held out his hand with dice to a lady beside him, who leaned in and blew lightly on them.
"Perfect. Hope that helps me out," Tony grinned.
But just as he was about to roll, a commotion erupted at a nearby table. His brow furrowed. "Strange. I thought this casino had higher standards."
The woman beside him explained in French, "It's the new champion, monsieur. They call him Dieu du jeu. He's practically cleaned out the entire floor."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Dieu du jeu? That's… God of Games?"
"It's actually God of the game, Mr. Stark," she corrected.
Now Stark was intrigued. "Well, let's see what makes this guy so special."
He leaned back and craned his neck toward the other table—only for his eyes to widen.
"No way…"
It was none other than Jack Kadere.
"Hey, Jack! You show up without telling me?"
Tony casually tossed his dice aside and strolled toward him. "Trying to give me a surprise, huh?"
Jack looked up calmly, eyeing the dice Stark had abandoned. "Not really a surprise, Tony. But… you should be careful. Your luck is running thin lately."
The dice Stark had tossed landed—two ones. Snake eyes.
Tony chuckled without looking. But in his mind, the words cut closer than he admitted. Palladium poisoning. His body was deteriorating fast. Still, he smirked. "Well, if luck's that bad, might as well enjoy myself before it runs out."
His gaze flicked to Barbara, who was calmly stacking a pile of chips. "Looks like you've been winning big."
Jack waved modestly, pinching his fingers close together. "Just a little."
He then gestured to the people beside him. "Tony, this is Stephen Strange—brilliant surgeon, world-class in his field. If you're ever serious about removing the shrapnel near your heart, you might want his perspective."
Strange gave Stark a respectful nod. "If you need me, I'll do everything I can."
Tony handed over a business card, forcing a smile. "Appreciate it. I've heard the name. Maybe I'll reach out."
He left it there. Stark knew the odds of safely extracting the shrapnel were slim. He trusted his arc reactor more than a scalpel.
Jack then turned to Barbara. "And this is Barbara Morse. Former Olympic-level gymnast, now a club member."
Barbara offered Stark a professional smile. "Mr. Stark, it's a pleasure."
Tony arched an eyebrow, then leaned toward Jack with a mischievous whisper. "She's gorgeous. I thought your lineup of beauties stopped at teenage prodigies. What's the deal—have you moved on from high school girls?"
Jack sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Tony… Gwen and the others are about to graduate. They're hardly kids anymore."
"So what—you're chasing college girls now?" Tony teased, grinning.
"..." Jack ignored him and pointed at the poker table. "Why don't you show me how this is played? You're the expert here."
Tony stared at him. "What? Aren't you supposed to be the 'God of the game'? Don't tell me you need lessons from me."
Yet, when Stark reluctantly started showing him, he quickly realized Jack wasn't faking—he genuinely didn't seem to understand the rules fully.
And still… Jack kept winning. Hand after hand.
Tony's jaw tightened as Jack raked in another pile of chips. "If I didn't know you, I'd swear you were cheating."
Jack just smiled faintly. He wasn't even using his object manipulation skills—his passive Spider-Sense alone practically guided him to victory. It wasn't cheating… just instinct.
....
After a while, Jack stepped back from the tables. He'd already won more than enough. Gambling for fun was one thing; relying on it was a waste of time.
Money was trivial now. At his level, wealth found its way to him, not the other way around.
Time flew by, and soon the competition was about to begin.
Tony Stark led Jack Kadere and the others to the pre-competition banquet. The room buzzed with chatter, the clinking of glasses, and flashes of cameras. It wasn't long before Jack noticed a familiar face.
Natasha Romanoff.
Barbara also spotted her. The two S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives locked eyes for a brief moment, their mutual recognition hidden behind polite smiles. Natasha was the first to approach, exchanging pleasantries with Barbara as if they were old friends.
Tony, seeing his new assistant break off to join Jack's companion, chuckled. "Compared to us, Kadere, it looks like they'd rather be with each other."
Before Jack could answer, a photographer hurried over with a camera. "Gentlemen, may I take a picture?"
Tony flashed his usual grin. "Of course. One shot, make it good."
Jack smiled lightly at the lens while replying to Stark, "Maybe they just have common ground. But you still have Pepper, while my companion has wandered off. That leaves me standing here alone."
"If you're looking for a companion," a confident female voice cut in, "how about me, Kadere?"
The two men turned to see Christine Everhart, a Vanity Fair reporter, stepping toward them with a wine glass in hand. She gave Tony a warm greeting before turning her full attention to Jack.
Tony narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to place her. "She looks familiar… remind me again?" he muttered under his breath.
"Vanity Fair," Jack supplied smoothly. "She's the reporter who once did that exclusive piece on you."
Tony snapped his fingers. "Right. Got it."
Jack offered Christine a polite smile. "Hello again, Miss Everhart. We meet under brighter lights this time."
Christine's dazzling smile revealed neat white teeth. "It's nice to see you again, Jack. I'm with Vanity Fair now, chasing bigger stories."
Jack studied her for a moment. She was still beautiful, but compared to their last encounter, something in her shine seemed dulled. Perhaps his own standards had risen. Either way, it was a fleeting thought. Gwen, Jessica, Skye, Felicia, Cindy… none of them aged normally, not anymore.
Jack himself held the power of the enhanced Dog Talisman. Eternal youth and life force that could even be shared. For those he chose to bless, time itself could be defied. Barbara, however, hadn't earned that gift. Not yet. Maybe, if she truly turned her back on S.H.I.E.L.D., he would consider it. Until then, immortality remained his alone to grant—and to recall if necessary.
"Tony! There you are!"
Another voice interrupted Jack's thoughts. Justin Hammer strode up, a glass in hand and a forced smile on his face. He immediately latched onto Stark, showering him with hollow compliments.
During their exchange, Hammer offered Jack polite nods and occasional small talk, but his eyes betrayed his true feelings. Disdain. To him, Jack was just some eccentric painter tagging along with Stark. Hardly worth his notice.
Jack, however, had no interest in entertaining him. His sharpened senses made Hammer's contempt crystal clear.
Spotting an opening, Christine slipped her arm through Jack's and said brightly, "Mr. Hammer seems eager to chat with Stark. Why don't we give them space?"
She tugged Jack away, but Hammer wasn't about to let her go so easily. "Christine! Weren't you supposed to be interviewing me tonight?" he snapped, his forced smile faltering.
"Later, Mr. Hammer," she said smoothly, easing her arm free. "Why don't you focus on Stark first?"
Hammer's face flushed red as he watched Christine walk away with Jack. His plan to leech off Stark's spotlight now seemed ruined.
Jack, amused by the whole thing, allowed Christine to lead him down a quieter corridor. But when they reached a shadowed corner, she surprised him by suddenly pressing him back against the wall.
"Jack…" Christine whispered, her body pressing close as one heel slid around his ankle. Her breath was warm against his neck. "After that night, why didn't you call me?"
Jack sighed inwardly. Being handsome really is a curse. Beauty, considering you just angered that clown Hammer, I'd advise you to let go…
But Christine didn't hear his thoughts. She pressed her face against his collarbone, lips brushing closer, one hand trailing lower and lower toward forbidden territory.
Before she could go any further, however, a firm hand caught her wrist mid-motion.
"Madam."
Barbara had arrived. With a knowing smirk, she pulled Christine back. "It's not very polite to treat a gentleman that way."
Her voice carried a teasing lilt, but her sharp eyes said otherwise.
Christine, caught off guard, tried to mask her frustration with a smile, while Jack exhaled quietly. Barbara's timing, as usual, was impeccable.