The bright yellow sunset climbed over the edge of the window, casting a warm, golden glow on Anton's face. Half of his features were lit, giving him an almost ethereal look as he sat slouched in his chair, exhausted from a long day. Outside, the sky shifted from blue to hues of amber and violet as the evening approached.
"Look at the time," he muttered to himself, glancing at the clock. "Time to get off work." He stretched, preparing to stand, when the phone on his desk buzzed, vibrating with a crisp, almost impatient sound.
Ring ring ring!
He picked up the phone, and a familiar name flashed across the screen in bold letters: Tony Stark.
Anton blinked, momentarily taken aback. Immediately, the image of Tony Stark's arrogant, mustached face popped into his mind, and a frown crossed his own face. Stark was the epitome of smugness, a man who exuded confidence—and the power to back it up.
"Anton, you didn't forget about tonight's party, did you?" Stark's voice came through the phone, dripping with his usual smugness. "If you're thinking about backing out, I won't mind showing a bit of mercy," he added, his tone filled with mockery.
Anton rolled his eyes, feeling his frustration rising. Stark's cockiness always grated on his nerves, especially given their recent history. Anton quickly replayed the sequence of events in his mind, piecing together how they got here.
The Anton of a few months ago was, admittedly, a spoiled rich kid—a regular at high-society parties who had a penchant for showing off his wealth and "wooing" women.
While he was no Stark, who practically owned the entire New York social scene as the CEO of Stark Industries, Anton was prominent in his own right. His lifestyle was extravagant, his circle exclusive. It was inevitable their paths would cross, and they did.
At a recent high-profile party, a bet was made between Anton and Tony over who could attract a particular girl's attention. Naturally, Tony, with his sharp wit and undeniable charm, won effortlessly.
He not only won the bet, taking the girl's interest and leaving Anton in the dust, but he also managed to sweep every woman at the party off their feet—including the cleaning staff who arrived to tidy up afterward. Anton's defeat was nothing short of humiliating. He had been the laughingstock ever since.
The problem was, Tony Stark wasn't just a brilliant mind in technology; he also had an almost supernatural ability to win people over. Anton, however, refused to give up. The two had been engaging in these little "contests" at every gathering since then, with Stark winning each time.
Tony, amused by the dynamic, seemed to have grown attached to their one-sided rivalry, seeing it as a harmless source of entertainment. The rich elite of New York watched their antics with fascination, some even placing bets on the outcome of each new confrontation.
And tonight, yet another "competition" was about to begin.
"Pick up girls?" Anton echoed, the corners of his mouth curving up in a smirk as he hung up the phone. He stood up with renewed energy and practically sprinted to his garage.
The engine of his Bugatti Veyron roared to life, its sound reverberating through the quiet evening streets, catching the attention and envy of passersby.
As he sped toward the party, he reflected. Picking up girls? Was that really what they were doing? In truth, Stark's method wasn't so much about charm as it was about throwing money around. And if that's all it took, well—Anton could throw money just as well as the next guy.
Meanwhile, at the venue, a lavish mansion by the coast, the city's elite were gathered around a sprawling pool. They lounged on designer chairs, sipping champagne and casually exchanging bets.
"Is Anton even coming tonight?" one man grumbled. "I bet a hundred thousand on him—don't tell me he's chickening out."
"You bet on Anton?" another scoffed. "He's never won against Stark!"
"Yeah, but they did a lottery this time," a third chimed in. "None of us would willingly put our money on Anton."
The laughter faded as the familiar sound of a roaring engine filled the air, and heads turned to see Anton stepping out of his sleek car, his expression set with newfound determination.
"Well, look who finally showed up!" someone called, and Anton was met with a chorus of greetings—most of them thinly veiled jabs.
"You actually came, Anton!" one friend said, clapping him on the back.
"Today, I'm here to make you all a lot of money," Anton said confidently, giving a nod to the last man who greeted him.
In the center of the crowd stood Tony Stark, surrounded by several striking women who hung on his every word. Noticing the commotion, Stark looked up, his smirk widening at the sight of Anton.
"Well, well, if it isn't my favorite opponent!" Tony teased, striding forward. "What's the plan, Anton? Planning to head home early to avoid embarrassment?"
Anton met his gaze evenly, suppressing a scowl. "Tony, do you really think that ridiculous mustache of yours is all it takes to attract women?" he retorted.
Tony shrugged with a mock-innocent expression. "I don't need to rely on looks alone, Anton. Why bother with emotions when a man in my position has enough wealth to inspire admiration?" He flashed a grin, clearly enjoying the banter.
"True, but perhaps for some people, the prospect of starring on the cover of a magazine is more appealing than a night with you," Anton countered, his eyes lingering on one of the women beside Stark. "What do you say, beautiful? Interested in being the lead in a new movie?"
The blonde woman only laughed, shaking her head. "Sorry, Anton. As charming as that sounds, I'm spoken for tonight."
It was clear to everyone that Tony Stark was the alpha in this social jungle. Compared to Tony, who was recognized globally as the genius behind Stark Industries, Anton was just another name among New York's upper crust. Tony's influence extended worldwide, while Anton's wealth was but a drop in the ocean by comparison.
Unfazed, Anton straightened. "Soon, you'll realize just how big of an opportunity you're missing." Inside, he knew he held an ace—his confidence was buoyed by a risky plan he'd been mulling over for a while.
Tonight, he wasn't here just to flirt or to be outshone by Stark. Tonight, he had a mission.
"You're looking… different tonight, Anton." Tony's gaze narrowed as he assessed him with genuine curiosity. "It's almost as if you have… confidence."
"Everyone's handsome, Tony," Anton replied smoothly. "The real question is, who has the strength to back it up?"
He paused, letting his words sink in before adding, "I recently acquired the Daily Bugle. And while I'm not interested in running a newspaper, I do have plans for it."
"Oh? Planning to try your hand at journalism?" Tony asked, eyebrows raised.
"Not exactly," Anton replied, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I'm thinking… movies."
Tony let out a surprised laugh. "You? Making movies? Let me guess—another attempt at showing me up?"
"Think what you like," Anton shrugged. "We'll invest a hundred million, half both. We'll make a bet on the box office returns. If I win, I keep the profits. If I lose, I'll carry your bags and call you 'big brother'—whatever you want."
Tony chuckled, clearly entertained by the prospect. "Fifty million? Sure, I'll play along," he said. Then he added with a smirk, "But there's a catch. If the box office doesn't exceed fifty percent returns, you lose."
Anton extended his hand, sealing the deal. "No problem. And if I win?" he challenged.
"If you win," Tony replied, grinning, "the profits are yours, no strings attached. Plus, I'll throw you a party in L.A. in your name—with all the girls you could want."
"Deal," Anton agreed, shaking Tony's hand firmly.
For the first time in their rivalry, Anton felt he might actually have a chance. Stark may have money, charm, and an undeniable presence—but tonight, Anton was determined to prove he had something more.
….
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