Night deepened, and the neon lights outside the restaurant bathed the city in a dreamy glow.
Henry drove the Aston Martin that Happy had sent, smoothly gliding along the empty tree-lined streets.
Inside the car, soft music played.
Helen Cho sat in the passenger seat, her head tilted to watch the rapidly passing night scenery, a faint blush still lingering on her beautiful face.
"Thank you, Henry," she said suddenly, her voice soft.
"Tonight… I really enjoyed myself."
She spoke naturally, dropping the formal "Mr. Stark" and calling him by his first name.
Henry glanced at her and gave a faint smile.
"Really?" he asked.
"I thought you might think I'm just a guy full of hot air."
"No, you're not," Helen shook her head, her eyes fixed on him in the dim light.
"You're the most interesting man I've ever met."
She studied his sharp, sculpted profile illuminated by the streetlights, the strong, knuckled hands on the steering wheel—and felt a sudden, inexplicable surge of desire.
She realized… she was starting to like this man.
Not just for his flawless looks or immense wealth—though, admittedly, those counted.
But more so for his intelligence, humor, and gentle, captivating spirit.
She admitted it: she was drawn to Henry, body and soul.
The car slowed in front of her apartment building.
"We're here," Henry said, unbuckling his seatbelt, reaching for the door to open it for her.
But Helen didn't move. She just looked at him, hesitating.
The air felt thick, the atmosphere tense yet quiet.
"Henry," she spoke again, her voice slightly trembling, perhaps from nervousness.
"It's still early. Want to come up for a bit? I… have a bottle of really nice Korean soju. Maybe… we could test it together."
It was a bold invitation.
Henry studied her, noting the calm composure she tried to maintain, yet seeing the flicker of anticipation in her eyes. He smiled.
He liked smart women—and even more, women who were bold and smart.
Leaning back slightly, he leaned toward her ear, letting his warm breath brush her earlobe, making her shiver.
"Test me?" His voice was low, sultry.
"Doctor, you should know I never refuse a challenge. Especially one from a beautiful lady."
"Is that so?"
…
Ten minutes later
Helen's apartment matched Henry's expectations: minimalist, modern, and immaculately clean.
A faint fresh scent lingered in the air.
Shelves held structural models and thick academic tomes, replacing any luxury decorations.
The space radiated intellectual beauty.
"Make yourself comfortable."
Helen kicked off her high heels, walking barefoot across the floor. She retrieved a finely packaged bottle of soju and two delicate glasses from her bar.
"This isn't like the fancy red wines you usually drink," she said with a playful smile while pouring.
"It's strong… and direct."
Henry didn't hesitate, settling onto the sofa. He admired the curves accentuated by her evening gown.
"Direct?"
He took the glass and downed it in one, the spicy liquid burning but tasting smooth to him—his constitution could handle anything on Earth now.
"I like direct."
He set the glass down and pulled Helen, who was about to rise, into his lap.
Helen gasped, collapsing onto him.
Through the thin fabric, she could feel the intense heat radiating from his body.
Her heart raced.
"You…" she began, but her words were cut off.
Her body stiffened briefly, then responded with equal fervor.
The air was thick with the spice of alcohol and the sweetness of desire, making hearts pound.
Henry's hands grew restless.
He felt her trembling, felt the rapid beating of her heart.
"My room…" Helen's voice was hoarse between breaths.
"Or… here?"
Henry looked down at her, her eyes misted and glistening. He let out a low laugh.
"My story is only just beginning," he said hoarsely.
"Are you ready… for evolution?"
***
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