Date: Jan 1995
Location: The Getty Villa, Malibu (private evening tour + catered dinner)
Actress: Madeleine Stowe
Connection: Co-starring in 12 Monkeys, which Alexander is producing
Alexander's Status: Producer on a hot streak of greenlit prestige and genre films: 12 Monkeys, Jumanji, Se7en, and Apollo 13 all filming or in post. He's in the middle of strategic IP buys (negotiating Marvel acquisition, just closed Dark Horse deal). His net worth is $500M+, with rising rumors around "the white-haired mogul who always bets right."
Madeleine Status: Coming off a critical and commercial high from The Last of the Mohicans (1992) and Short Cuts (1993). One of Hollywood's most respected dramatic actresses, but known for being selective, private, and wary of fame. 12 Monkeys is her biggest genre swing yet, and she's anxious about being taken seriously in it.
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The Pacific crashed quietly beyond the marbled terrace of the Getty Villa, its ancient Roman columns glowing amber in the setting sun. A private tour had emptied the museum of tourists, and now the villa belonged to two people alone.
Madeleine Stowe stood beside a statue of Artemis, her dark hair catching the last light like silk. "You know this feels a bit… imperial, even for you," she said, sipping red wine from a crystal glass.
Alexander Kaine, dressed in black-on-black, with a long charcoal coat that billowed like a villain's cape, gave a small, amused nod. "I have a fondness for ruins. They remind me of what happens when empires forget how to evolve."
She raised an eyebrow. "And you're here to build one instead?"
"No," he said simply. "To replace the old gods."
Madeleine laughed — a low, musical sound that didn't quite hide the edge beneath it. "You talk like you know how the story ends."
"I do."
He was standing too close now, and yet she didn't move. His green eyes didn't blink, didn't waver — it was like being read by something too ancient to lie.
"12 Monkeys is a risk," she said quietly, trying to pull the conversation somewhere grounded. "Time travel, plague, madness... It's not exactly Last of the Mohicans."
"And that's why it matters," Alexander said. "The world doesn't need safe. Safe is what kills culture. We're telling stories about what's coming — pandemics, surveillance, collapse. You're not acting in a sci-fi flick, Madeleine. You're playing Cassandra before the world ends."
She turned to face him fully. "And what's your angle in all this? You don't strike me as the 'art for art's sake' type."
Alexander smiled faintly. "I'm producing 12 Monkeys, Apollo 13, and Se7en this year. All bets on very different horses. One's memory, one's madness, one's murder. But they all challenge the system — and I like putting pressure on the system."
"And the money?"
"I don't chase it anymore. I grow it like a virus."
He paused to sip from his own glass. "Marvel's on the table. I'll own it by year's end. I already bought Dark Horse outright. Comics, mythologies, all of it. I'm building an IP library that can't be ignored."
Madeleine narrowed her eyes. "So all this...this date, this private tour, this wine among marble gods... is just part of your campaign?"
Alexander looked at her then, eyes softening. "No. This is the one thing that isn't strategy."
There was a long silence. The waves hit rock far below.
"I've seen too many men pretend they don't care about power," she said at last.
"I don't pretend," he replied. "But tonight, I care about you more."
A beat. Then she stepped away from the statue, setting her glass down.
"You always know the ending, don't you?" she murmured, half-smile forming.
He extended a hand. "Only when I write it."
She took it.
They slipped down the side stairwell of the villa, the guards already paid, the chef dismissed early. Past the torch-lit archways, into the private wing where the museum's owner sometimes stayed — a bedroom untouched by tourists.
Tonight, it belonged to them.
Alexander and Madeleine Stowe.
As they entered the private wing, the torchlight cast a warm, flickering glow on the stone walls, creating a intimate and secluded atmosphere. Madeleine, dressed in a deep red gown that hugged her curves like a second skin, turned to face Alexander. The dress, with its plunging neckline and delicate straps, accentuated her every asset, and the way the fabric shimmered under the torchlight made her look like a vision from a dream. Alexander's eyes roamed over her, taking in every detail, his breath hitching slightly as he drank in the sight of her.
Alexander, in his black-on-black attire, with a long charcoal coat that billowed dramatically behind him, looked every bit the villainous hero she knew him to be. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, adding to his rugged charm, and his eyes held a intensity that made her heart race. He stepped closer, his voice a low growl as he said, "You look like a goddess, Madeleine."
She smiled, a slow, seductive curve of her lips that promised pleasure. "And you look like a man who knows exactly what he wants," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
He reached out, his fingers tracing the strap of her dress, sending shivers down her spine. "I do," he murmured. "And I want you."
With a swift, confident movement, he slipped the strap down her shoulder, his fingers brushing against her soft skin. She shivered, her breath catching in her throat as he repeated the action with the other strap, letting the dress fall to her waist, exposing her bare breasts to his hungry gaze. He leaned in, his lips capturing one taut nipple, his tongue circling it gently before sucking it into his mouth. She gasped, her head falling back as pleasure coursed through her.
Madeleine's hands found their way to his coat, pushing it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. She began to unbutton his shirt, her fingers trembling with anticipation. He helped her, shrugging out of the shirt and pulling her flush against him, skin to skin.
He walked her backward until her legs hit the edge of the bed, and she sat down, her eyes never leaving his. He knelt before her, his hands gripping her hips as he pulled her to the edge of the bed. Slowly, he slid her dress up her thighs, his fingers tracing patterns on her soft skin, making her squirm with need. He leaned in, his breath hot on her inner thigh, and she could feel his smile against her skin as he looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire.
"Alexander," she whispered, her voice hoarse with need.
He hooked his fingers into the lace of her panties, the black lace that matched her dress, and slowly began to pull them down. His eyes never left hers, holding her gaze with an intensity that made her breath hitch. He took his time, inching the fabric down her thighs, over her knees, and finally off her feet. He tossed them aside carelessly, his focus solely on her, on the desire that was written all over her face.
Leaning in, he started at her knee, his tongue tracing a path up her inner thigh, soft, gentle licks that sent shivers down her spine. He took his time, savoring every inch of her, his hands gripping her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. He moved closer to her center, his breath hot on her skin, and she could feel her heart pounding in her ears, her body trembling with anticipation. She squirmed under his touch, her hands fisting the bedsheets, her knuckles white with anticipation.
When his tongue finally found her most sensitive spot, she cried out, her back arching off the bed. Waves of pleasure washed over her, and she could feel her body responding to his touch, her hips bucking against his mouth. He took his time, his tongue exploring every fold, every inch of her, his fingers joining in, one and then two, filling her, moving in and out in a rhythm that had her crying out for more.
He could feel her body tensing, her orgasm building, and he slowed down, his tongue and fingers working in tandem to bring her to the brink of ecstasy without pushing her over. He wanted to draw this out, to make her beg, to make her lose control. He could feel her body trembling, her breath coming in short gasps, her hands gripping his hair, trying to pull him closer, trying to urge him on.
Just as she was about to fall over the edge, he stopped, a wicked smile on his face as he looked up at her, his chin glistening with her wetness. She let out a frustrated cry, her body aching with need, her eyes pleading with him to finish what he started. But he just smiled, a slow, sexy smile that promised so much more, as he stood up, his body towering over hers.
He unbuckled his belt, his eyes never leaving hers, the sound of the leather sliding through the buckle loud in the quiet room. He tossed the belt aside, his fingers going to the button of his pants, his eyes dark with desire. She could see the bulge in his pants, could see how much he wanted her, and it only served to heighten her arousal. She reached out, her hands pulling him toward her, her lips capturing his in a passionate kiss, tasting herself on him, her body aching with need.
He pushed her back onto the bed, his body covering hers as he positioned himself at her entrance. He looked into her eyes, his voice a low growl as he said, "Tell me you want me, Madeleine."
shy in demeanor, she whispered, "I want you, Alexander."
"louder."
"I want you, please."
With a slow, deliberate thrust, he entered her, his eyes locked on hers, gauging her reaction. He filled her completely, inch by inch, their bodies joining in the most intimate of dances. She moaned, a deep, guttural sound that spoke of her desire, her need, her pleasure. He echoed her moan, his voice a low growl as he finally sheathed himself fully inside her, their bodies flush against each other.
He started to move, his hips rolling against hers in a rhythm that was as old as time itself. He took his time, drawing out each thrust, each retreat, building a fire between them that threatened to consume them both. He leaned down, his lips capturing hers in a passionate kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth, dueling with hers as their bodies moved in sync.
He reached between them, his fingers finding her sensitive nub, already swollen and begging for attention. He rubbed it in slow circles, matching the rhythm of his hips, the dual sensation almost too much to bear. She could feel her orgasm building again, her body tensing as she climbed higher and higher, her moans growing louder, more desperate.
"Alexander," she cried out, her nails digging into his back, urging him on. "Don't stop, please don't stop."
He had no intention of stopping. He could feel her body tightening around him, her inner muscles clenching as she climbed closer to the precipice. He leaned down, his lips capturing hers in a passionate kiss, swallowing her cries of pleasure as she finally tumbled over the edge. Her body convulsed around him, her orgasm ripping through her, her body milking his cock, urging him to join her.
He obliged, his body tensing as he found his own release, her name a low groan on his lips. "Madeleine," he groaned, his body shuddering as he spilled himself inside her, filling her with his hot seed. He continued to move, drawing out their pleasure, their bodies slick with sweat, their breaths coming in short gasps.
They lay there, their bodies entwined, their hearts pounding in sync as they came down from their high. He could feel her body softening, her breaths evening out as she floated back to earth. He rolled off her, pulling her into his arms, his lips pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, her temple, her cheek. He held her close, their bodies still joined, his cock still semi-hard inside her as they drifted on the waves of their pleasure.
"That was..." she started, her voice trailing off as she searched for the words.
"Perfect," he finished for her, a soft smile on his face as he held her close, their bodies still entwined.