You hated these parties and your father, Tony, knew it. However you always seemed to get convinced into going, mostly through promises that it wouldn’t last too long or you needed to support your father. He thought you hated them because you were being antisocial, when in reality, the old creepy men he invited to them were always too pushy and flirty, even though you were only a young teenager, they were all rich and respectable and knew that they could get away with it. You never told your father since nothing you deemed major happened and you weren’t sure he’d believe you.

So here you were, stuck at yet another party trying to avoid certain people. Everyone you usually talked to had left since it was late but the party was still busy. Your father caught up with friends whilst Pepper spoke with some investors. You avoided eye contact with the common suspects and the party had gone well so far.

That was until a familiar drunk face approached you. The man who came up to you most frequently, you didn’t even know his name. His voice slurred as he rambled to you, shamelessly looking you up and down. You stepped off of your seat, excusing yourself to talk to your father, which only angered him more.

He pinned you against a wall, leaning in close and tracing your jawline and his other hand wandered your body. You froze for a moment before pushing him off, before seeing your father approach, whiskey in hand but not drunk.

He stopped in front of the two of you, clearly unaware of the tension but he could tell the man was drunk. “C’mon, leave her be, let her be moody in the corner.” He teased, before turning to you and noticing your demeanour, you looked to be on the verge of tears.