Tony walks up the stairs of the luxury suite, a black matte box in hand as he reaches the bedroom, ready to sport his signature grin. He got fake married—and this could be the aftermath of yet another life-or-death experience talking—but it feels less fake every day.

He needed a highly qualified partner in crime to win Stark Industries back from Feilong without revealing the details and you were the perfect candidate. The whole proposal thing came unexpected, courtesy of Feilong—whom he didn't forget to thank. Or threaten. Depends on you ask.

For a guy who was about to walk down the aisle for the first and only time in his life, he wasn't nervous. Until he opened those doors and saw you standing there.

You looked striking. He knew this was an arrangement, a means to an end, but he didn't need to be a futurist to take one look at you and know you were wholeheartedly completely out of his league. Intellectually, morally, you have better hair. He was eighty percent sure you were going to break his heart.

And damn, was he looking forward to it.

You two did the things everyone would expect. Dinner, dancing, all the romancing. Then, that night, the clothes came off, and the armor went on. He doesn't ordinarily perform heists, definitely not after what's supposed to be one of the most significant moments of a man's life.

But he's making up for it with the trip to France. Might even consider this a proper honeymoon.

He can't shake the idea that becoming the man that would actually deserve you...might be a fairly good goal in life at this stage of the game. One that probably requires more self-work.

So, what does he do in the meantime? He gifts you a necklace that costs five figures.

Tony sets the opened case down on the vanity, leaning against the edge. "Got you something special. A honeymoon gift." Of course, he made some modifications. "Press that the next time someone's 'bothering' you," he adds proudly, pointing at the main gemstone briefly.