I'm so charming, there are always men who love me

Chapter 17

Outside the doors of the UCLA Medical Center, Tony Stark was being shoved into the backseat by Colonel Roddy and his assistant, Pepper, along with his driver, Hogan.

Margaret, who had issued the order, was standing outside the car, waving at several people, "Good night and sweet dreams."

Tony pressed the window down and looked at her undeterred, "Why don't you come to Malibu Beach with me?!"

"Probably because you're ugly?" After thinking hard, Margaret then added, "And a little old."

Tony Stark grimaced, "You're blind."

"I was named by Time Magazine as the quintessential representative of the man who gets more and more accented as he ages," Mr. Narcissistic America's Richest Man spoke quickly, "They said I was handsome when I was young, and as the years have settled in, the bearded look and the sharp short hair are glamorous, and-"

Tony said confidently, "I'm only thirty-eight years old, which has nothing to do with the word 'old'."

Margaery blinked, "I'm nineteen, Mr. Stark, and I'm afraid you're old enough to be my guardian."

Tony Middle-Aged Old Man-Stark: "......"

Margaret ignored him and looked to Hogan, the driver in the front row, "Be safe, sir."

Hogan was flattered by Margot's polite and thoughtful attitude, and looking again at the boss in the back of the car, he immediately stepped on the gas pedal and started the sedan, disappearing in a puff of smoke outside the hospital doors.

Hogan thought to himself, he really can't stand to see a middle-aged old man seducing a young girl in her flower season, it's simply unconscionable.

Margot was about to hail a cab and leave when she was surprised to see the reported vehicle driving not far away -

These reporters were afraid that they had received news and had come to the hospital to surround Tony Stark.

It is reasonable to say that Tony Stark's trip today is protected from public disclosure by the military.

Even the hospital trip was secret, and no one knew about it except for the head of the hospital and that elite medical doctor.

But in the modern information world, there are never any secrets.

It's not unlikely that news of Margaret's travels with the CEO of Stark Industries has leaked out.

Looking away from the fanfare of a group of reporters, Margaret turned on a dime and walked back to the hospital once again.

Cabs weren't easy to hail here, and it was feared that she would be caught by a news reporter before she could get in one and escape.

It's one thing to catch a rumor, it's quite another to have a reporter see it with their own eyes and take a picture of it.

Hospitals are public places where journalists can't easily break in and take pictures, and for decades they have always kept photojournalists on tenterhooks and at a loss for words.

As early as 1942, the Times lost a privacy lawsuit for sneaking into a hospital and taking pictures of Babel lying in a hospital bed while he was losing weight.

Even in "publicly relevant medical situations," in which the events related to the subject are newsworthy such as crimes, accidents, and natural or man-made disasters, photojournalists can only photograph subjects outside ambulances, hospitals, and emergency rooms.

This is not to mention the fact that infiltrating a hospital for the sole purpose of capturing an incident could result in a lawsuit and the loss of one's job.

The news vans were all parked outside the hospital, and reporters gathered around the door with microphones and cameras, waiting with great interest for the people involved to come out of the hospital.

Not to mention the legend of Tony Stark's rescue from the hands of a terrorist organization, just the leaker's statement that "actress-to-be Margaret Ajani was with him" was enough to get a headline.

It's not a great night, with temperatures at a rare zero, but the journalists are still in their thin daytime suits, so there's no room for a windbreaker or a thin sweater.

As for Margaret, who was trapped in the hospital, she was sitting in the corner of a deserted waiting area wearing sunglasses and attracting no attention.

Margo pondered whether or not she should call Brian Lord to explain the current situation, guessing he would vomit blood in anger.

Although he usually admired Tony Stark, when it came to Margaux's future and reputation, the gold medalist agent was like an old cat with fried fur.

Margo had a bit of a headache thinking about all the reporters around the hospital, and after some thought, decided to stay away from Stark in the future, he was simply a trouble maker.

Sitting in his Malibu beach house, Tony, who had removed the immobilizing straps from his arms and was starting to create a new fusion energy source, suddenly felt a bit of a chill down his back.

What's going on here? Is it cooling down in Los Angeles? Or are there some unruly people trying to harm me again?

Meanwhile, in another corner of Los Angeles, two men are walking out of the theater, having just finished watching director Truffaut's new film, "The Story of Adele Hugo".

Eric Brace and J. McKaye Gruber are young Hollywood screenwriters, currently unknown but described as talented young men.

These two men have always wanted to direct a movie on their own and have even been working on a script since two years ago.

The two men have worked hard on the script, which has now been conceptualized for two long years, and can be expected to rewrite and refine it for even longer until it actually makes it to the big screen one day.

And after walking out of the screening room of The Story of Adele Hugo today, it seems that Bress has made a not-so-easy decision -- the

Eric Bress sounded serious, "McKaye, I want to rewrite the Butterfly Effect script."

"What?" J. McKaye Gruber looked at him in surprise.

"I've never wanted to have an actor in my movie so badly."

Eric looked back at the movie posters outside the theater- the

The girl with the dark hair was elegant and graceful, but her gaze was full of pain and confusion, while at the same time full of intense and blooming love, obsessed to the point of being frightening.

McKaye Gruber looked over as he did, "You want Ajani to play the lead role of Keller?"

"No," Eric Brace said, "She's exactly the Ivan of my dreams with her disorientation and pain, her neuroticism tormented by horrific memories, and that perfect look of being on the verge of breaking down in agony."

He sounded insistent, "I'm going to rewrite the main character as a female character, McKaye, the only one worthy of my Ivan, no, now it's Evans."

While the two new screenwriters were making subversive decisions for their movie scripts, Margaret in the hospital was about to take out her cell phone and dial Brian Lord's number.

She figured she was going to get a bad rap.

That's when she unexpectedly saw a pair of shiny black leather shoes come into view.

The man had an extraordinarily charming and elegant demeanor as he walked around, he had taken off his medical uniform and replaced it with a black suit, his dark hair was brushed back behind his head, and his whole person was filled with an elite demeanor.

Stephen Strange frowned at her, "Why are you still here?"

Margaret pointed towards him and pointed towards the window, "There are a hundred news reporters waiting downstairs and I don't want to be in the headlines tomorrow."

His face was stoic and haughty, like a Renaissance marble statue, and at that moment the corners of his mouth curved in a false curve, "I wish you a romantic and cozy evening at the hospital."

This medical elite really didn't seem to have a good temper.

Margaret's smile was equally false, even a bit perfunctory, "Thanks, Mr. Strange, no thanks for your trouble."

Stephen gave her a cold look, turned and left.

Margo was about to take out her cell phone to call Brian when she realized it wasn't in her pants pocket, and rummaged through her handbag, still nothing.

She resigned herself to the fact that the cell phone had vanished into thin air.

Margaret had wondered earlier why she hadn't been contacted by that CAA tyrant, whose sources could always be very sensitive, after nearly an hour of reporters milling around outside the door.

Now she realized that Brian had probably dialed hundreds of calls.

But who would have thought that her cell phone had disappeared without a trace.

Margaret frowned, remembering that a few hours ago, Tony Stark had come up to her with a good face and stayed for a while.

Afterward, it seemed like a small piece of his suit jacket pocket had somehow bulged.

Margot was silent.

On the other side of Los Angeles, in a luxury villa on Malibu Beach, America's richest man fiddled with the cellular phone in his hand with a haughty look on his face -

I can return the phone tomorrow and meet Margot.

Margaret in the hospital: I'm crazy to pick up this psycho!

Margot looks to the paramedic's duty desk-

She could go over and borrow the landline phone, of course, but no doubt that might cause the nurse at the duty desk to recognize her.

What was the point of hiding in the hospital when she could just walk out and borrow the phone from a reporter?

In her nineteen years of living, she really hadn't been screwed over much to this extent.

If she could, Margaret would love to kick Tony Stark back into Iraq.

Frowning, Margo prepared to slip out of the hospital on her own.

Centuries ago, she'd been able to sneak out of the Louvre under heavy guard, so there was no reason why she should be trapped in a hospital by reporters now.

She had just gotten to her feet when she saw Stephen Strange returning.

The tall man looked as if he had been watching her for a moment and was striding toward her, walking with a masculine charm that was both civil and violent.

Strange's voice was low and gorgeous, "Follow me."

Before the words left his mouth, he took hold of Margo's wrist, the warmth of his palm traveling through a thin layer of shirt fabric and onto the skin of her wrist.

Margaret didn't struggle, she didn't want to start a small panic in the waiting area.

Strange looked exceptionally harmonious in his smart black suit, combined with the white shirt and black pants on Margot.

The people in the waiting area took a hasty look and just assumed that this was a couple with outstanding temperament.

Once the two stepped into the elevator, Steven let go of his hand and proceeded to press the floor that took them straight to the area of the underground parking garage reserved for the medical staff.

As a nationally renowned medical elite, Stephen Strange lived a very privileged life, such as this sports car he parked in the underground parking lot, which was worth millions of dollars.

Outside the parking lot is also waiting for the reporter, in the crowd can not react in time, will see an expensive black sports car directly out of sight.

Although a photojournalist snapped a picture of the car's rear end, he realized that the license plate number didn't belong to one of the many vehicles under Stark's name, nor was it even from CAA.

It appears to be just a wealthy unrelated person.

Geez, how much longer were they going to have to wait in the cold.

The sports car drove through the paper-thin downtown Los Angeles, leaving the flashy night scene behind at breakneck speed.

Strange's silky voice rang out, "Ms. Margaret Ajani, I'm driving to my place right now."

Margaret answered him with a false smile, "I'm sorry Mr. Strange, I just want to get back to my apartment."

"I prefer to date at my place," Stephen looked at her, "maybe this time it's a new try."

Strange certainly didn't really want to date the actress, he wasn't so frivolous.

So now it's probably just a habit of giving people a hard time?

After all, he's never had a great temper, and due to the deaths of his sister and parents years ago due to illness and accident, a devastated Strange has become cold, talented but temperamental, and is best at disliking people who are speechless.

Margo raised an eyebrow, "This gentleman, it looks like you want to be on the front page of tomorrow's Sun."

Strange mused for a second, "I did appear on the cover of Time Magazine as Pioneer of the Year, I hope the Sun picks a good picture when they profile me."

Margaret looked at him, "Tch, too bad I don't really like men with long faces."

Stephen Strange, "......"

He should have just left her in the press pile! Crazy to meddle in helping her out of the hospital!