Page 7 of Villainous Rise

“Here as in my penthouse? Where I plan crimes and build weapons?”

“Here as in the penthouse you barely use except to stare at screens and masturbate sadly.”

I set down my tools. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that last part.”

“Look, I know you’ve got something lodged so far up your ass right now it’s practically tickling your tonsils,” he continued. “But I figured you’d want some warning before I invited a bunch of people into our space.”

“How thoughtful.” The sarcasm in my voice could have stripped paint. “Why the hell are you throwing a party? Is this some kind of midlife crisis?” I asked, returning to the delicate circuitry. “Or did you just decide my security measures needed stress testing?”

Menace shifted in his seat, a flicker of uncharacteristic nervousness crossing his face. “Normal people like to have fun sometimes. You should try it. Might help with that perpetual scowl you’ve been perfecting.”

I glanced up, catching something in his tone that didn’t match his usual bravado. He wasn’t meeting my eyes, which for Menace was practically a neon sign screaming that something was up.

“Talk. You look like you’re about to shit yourself.”

He exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. “I’m going to tell Dawn who I really am.”

My hands froze over my work. “You’re going to tell her you’re a Super.”

“Everything. The Super part, the League part. All of it.”

“And you thought having this revelation at a party was smart because...?”

“No, you idiot.” He looked genuinely flustered now, which was fascinating from a purely scientific standpoint. I’d never seen him this rattled. “The party comes after I tell her. If she doesn’t immediately kick me to the curb.”

“Still not seeing why you’d throw a party for this spectacular display of poor judgment.”

Menace stared at the ceiling, then the floor, then finally at me. “Because after I tell her, assuming she doesn’t run screaming, I’m going to propose to her. At the party.”

My brain stuttered to a complete halt.

“You’re going to what?”

“Propose. Marriage. That thing where you legally bind yourself to someone you don’t want to live without.”

I blinked, trying to process this information. “You’ve known her for what, five minutes?”

“Six months.”

“And you want to marry her? A civilian? Who doesn’t even know you’re a fucking super-powered criminal?”

“That’s why I’m telling her first,” he said, as if this made it all perfectly reasonable.

“Jesus Christ.” I leaned back, genuinely stunned. “You’re serious.”

“Yep.”

Something that felt uncomfortably close to envy twisted within me. Not of Menace specifically, but of his certainty. His willingness to risk everything for someone.

“Well,” I finally managed, “I guess I’d better clear my calendar for a wedding. Or a funeral. Fifty-fifty odds, really.”

Menace’s face fell. “Fifty-fifty? Really?”

I sighed. The idiot actually looked like he might throw up.

“Fine. You want the actual math?” I leaned back, the calculations already forming in my head. “Based on Dawn’s personality profile, her demonstrated tolerance for your bullshit, and her clear attachment to Annie, who would absolutely murder you if you hurt her friend, you’re looking at approximately a seventy-three percent chance of success.”

His eyebrows shot up. “That high?”