Elizabeth and Ms. Ronsey meticulously counted the 242 second-prize lottery tickets, cross-checking each against the winning numbers.
Ms. Ronsey broke the silence, her tone casual as she verified another ticket. "Elizabeth, didn't you mention applying for that production house job? What happened?"
Elizabeth sighed, her fingers pausing on a ticket. "I got an interview, but the chairman's creepy stares were a dealbreaker. I passed." Her voice carried a mix of frustration and resolve, her blue eyes flashing with quiet defiance.
Ms. Ronsey shook her head. "You need a gig that suits you, girl. An MFA in production from NYU Tisch? You're way overqualified for this desk. If it weren't for the recession, you'd be driving a Benz or married to some rich, handsome guy by now."
Elizabeth's cheeks flushed a soft pink, her lips curving into a shy smile as she brushed it off. Tony's ears perked up. NYU Tisch? Talented, ambitious, and stuck here? He filed it away, intrigued not just by her stunning looks but by the potential she brought to his plans. A production house needs someone like her. Her red hair caught the light as she leaned over the desk, the curve of her waist drawing his gaze for a fleeting moment. He pushed the thought aside, biding his time for the right moment to act.
It took two hours to verify the tickets and another hour to process the paperwork. Ms. Ronsey finalized the numbers: $17.5 million after federal and state withholdings, with $1.3 million due in taxes during filing. Tony leaned back, a wry smirk crossing his face. People think a lotto win's a golden ticket. Idiots. His past life taught him the truth—sixty percent of a jackpot was all you kept after the government's cut. Money was just a tool; real wealth came from what you built with it.
As he and Elizabeth walked toward the entrance, her heels clicked softly, each step drawing his eye to the way her skirt hugged her thighs. At the reception desk, she slipped behind it, her blue eyes meeting his with a spark of curiosity. Tony paused, his voice smooth but direct. "Ms. Elizabeth, I've got a job offer. I'm launching a production house and need talent like you. Interested? We can talk over coffee."
Elizabeth froze, her lips parting slightly as she processed his words. A job in production—her dream—was right there, but caution flickered in her eyes. Can I trust him? The recession had burned her before, and this felt almost too perfect. Sensing her hesitation, Tony leaned in, his tone warm but confident. "If you're worried about trust, take a couple of days. We're heading to Los Angeles tonight. Come with me, see what I'm about. If it feels right by the time we're back, we'll work together."
Her gaze softened, and after a moment, she nodded. "Okay, Mr. Stark. When do we leave for Los Angeles?"
"Eleven p.m. flight," Tony said, scribbling his number on a card. "Call me at 7:30. I'll pick you up." He flashed a grin and strode out, the thrill of recruiting his first talent mingling with the heat of her lingering gaze.
As he slid into the Mustang, his Motorola buzzed. He flipped it open, hearing Olivia's voice, steady but laced with excitement. "Tony, we found two cafés in Manhattan up for sale."
His stomach growled—he hadn't eaten since breakfast, and Olivia and Kiara had skipped lunch too. "Nice work. Meet me at the diner we hit last time. We'll talk over food."
The diner was a quick drive, and Tony pulled up in thirty minutes. Inside, Olivia and Kiara waited in a booth, Olivia's striking beauty drawing glances from a few high school boys trying their luck. Her high-waisted jeans and crop top hugged her frame, but her expression was all business. Tony slid into the booth, raising an eyebrow. "Why haven't you ordered yet?"
"Liv said we should wait for you," Kiara teased, her grin playful.
Olivia rolled her eyes. "Don't listen to her. We just got here."
Tony chuckled, but his tone softened. "Olivia, don't wait next time. I don't want you or Kiara starving on my account."
"Okay," Olivia said, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
Tony flagged down a waitress, ordering burgers for himself and Kiara and a salad for Olivia. As they waited, he leaned forward. "So, how'd the café hunt go?"
"Smooth," Olivia said, picking at her salad. "We found two for sale. One's new, but the owner's bankrupt. The other's a decade old—the owner passed, no heirs, so the government's auctioning it."
Tony nodded, impressed. "Solid finds. After lunch, check Brooklyn." He shared a few locations, his knowledge of future trends guiding him to spots poised for high foot traffic.
Later, Tony registered two companies: ChronosVantage Investments as a C-corp and TitanTech Ventures as an LLC under it. The taxes would sting, but he had bigger plans. Olivia and Kiara spent the afternoon scouting Brooklyn, Tony's foresight leading them to promising sites. By 6:30 p.m., they'd marked a few locations and called it a day. Back home, Olivia and Kiara headed upstairs to shower, while Tony packed for Los Angeles—a pair of clothes, his checkbook, and the Motorola. The $17.5 million was days away, but his mind was already racing toward the tech empire, the production house, and the family he was building.
At 7:30 p.m., his Motorola rang. "Mr. Stark, I'm ready," Elizabeth's voice came through, smooth with a hint of nerves. "Where should I meet you?"
"I'll pick you up, Ms. Foster," Tony said, taking her address. He turned to Olivia. "Can you drop me at the airport?"
Olivia nodded, grabbing the Mustang's keys. They swung by Elizabeth's place, where she stepped out, a vision in a fitted sweater and skirt that hugged her curves, her red hair glowing under the streetlights. Tony's pulse quickened as she slid into the passenger seat, her floral-spice perfume filling the car. Olivia took the back seat, her expression unreadable.
"Olivia, this is Elizabeth Foster, my first recruit for the film company," Tony said, keeping his tone light. "Ms. Foster, this is Olivia Rose, a friend of mine."
They exchanged polite greetings, but Tony missed the fleeting flicker of jealousy in Olivia's eyes as she watched Elizabeth's effortless confidence. The drive to the airport was quiet, the Mustang's hum filling the silence. At the terminal, Olivia took the wheel to head home, her gaze lingering on Tony a moment longer than usual.
Inside, Tony and Elizabeth joined the line for their boarding passes, tickets already secured from a travel agency. Her skirt swayed with each step, her figure drawing glances from passersby. Tony caught himself staring, her magnetic presence a constant pull. She's gonna be a star in production—and trouble for my focus, he thought, smirking. By 10:00 p.m., they boarded the plane.