𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐘 | steve rogers [1.1]

-- CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER ONE

[her father's daughter]

***

Long weekends for Anna Stark meant long nights of being wide-awake with copious amounts of alcohol and the thumping of the bass beat matching to the rhythm of her heart. It meant turning a blind eye to the people at the corner of the bar who were being quite conspicuous about popping colorful tabs of ecstasy. It meant brushing elbows with others who wanted to forget who they were for a few days and just be.

Memorial Day weekend was the first time since spring break that Anna could shed her good-girl, America's sweetheart façade and let loose in a nightclub crowded with strangers. She could become one of them, just another face in a mass of people. The only one able to recognize her was her best—well, only—friend, Jake.

She watched from her spot by the bar as the dopey twenty-one-year-old danced like an idiot in the middle of the dance floor. A bubble of laughter escaped her when she witnessed him bump into a rather large man without even realizing it. Thankfully, the other guy didn't pick a fight, because Anna didn't know if she had it in her to deal with that at the moment.

It was nights like this that she felt something.

She sipped her vodka soda and absorbed the electrifying atmosphere around her. The bouncer hadn't even batted an eye when he glimpsed her fake ID earlier in the night, allowing her free reign of the club and everything it had to offer.

Brushing the back of her hand over her forehead that shined with a thin coating of sweat from all the dancing, she weaseled her way back to the center of the dance floor to meet with her friend. In the morning, she would once again have to return to her life as the heir of Stark Industries, but right now she was unknown and she would enjoy it while she could.

Thankfully, she managed to ditch the paparazzi that typically kept a watchful eye on her, the vultures believing her to still be in Boston. But, no. She was back in California, trying not to remember how her father, the one and only Tony Stark, seemingly forgot that she was coming home.

Like Tony, Anna was an expert at avoiding emotional confrontation. In fact, they were similar in a lot of ways, the differences decreasing with every passing year and that wasn't necessarily for the best. Her filter was practically non-existent despite Pepper's efforts to tame her outbursts. She was flippant with her spending. And of course, she was arrogant, bordering on narcissistic.

But, none of that mattered now. Not with shots following; the burn in her throat and the heat in her veins.

By two o'clock in the morning, the two friends were spent, wobbling out the back door of the club to the waiting town car that would take them back to the Malibu mansion that Anna called home. The two curled around each other in the back seat, laughing and joking about the random things they encountered throughout the night, and the ride passed by quickly.