At first, Locke thought some fool with a personal grudge was intentionally driving up the price against him. He'd looked around back then but found nothing.
Now? Good grief. It turned out the grudge had been settled when he was only fourteen.
Locke squinted his eyes. The cliffside villa in Malibu... he wondered if it could truly withstand the footsteps of a Peerless Assassin.
He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, downed it in one go, and smiled thinly. "Good taste."
While Locke had no desire to deal with Tony Stark, he had to admit the man's palate was impeccable.
With the drink finished, the game resumed. However, after that initial display, the rest of the hands felt like "garbage time" to Locke. Someone had already tested the waters and felt Locke's depth. Though tens of millions were pocket change to these people, the pace of the betting slowed down significantly.
Eventually, it evolved into a duel between Locke and Tony.
Past midnight, Tony Stark—born in 1970 and fast approaching thirty-five—stared at the thirty million in chips stacked in front of Locke. Then, he looked at his own two hole cards: the 8 and 9 of Hearts.
The community cards on the table were the Q, J, and 10 of Hearts, along with a pair of 8s.
8, 9, 10, J, Q of Hearts. A Straight Flush.
Tony looked at Locke, who hadn't glanced at his hole cards even once since the very first hand. "You're bound to lose this one."
The advantage was his. This was a "flying dragon" play. How could he possibly lose?
Locke simply looked at him. "So, you know my name now?"
Tony blinked, taken aback.
Locke laughed. "Even if you win this hand, you've already lost, Mr. Stark."
Back at the start of the game, Locke had said losers weren't qualified to ask for names. Yet Tony knew it. Clearly, the man had "cheated" by using his resources to look him up.
"Furthermore..." Locke glanced at his face-down cards. "I believe in my Lady Luck."
With that, Locke looked up and pushed his entire thirty-million-dollar stack into the center. He focused on Tony Stark, who still maintained his persona of the arrogant, abrasive billionaire. "Will you call, Mr. Stark?"
Frankly, Locke couldn't understand the mindset of those who arrived in this world desperate to suck up to Tony Stark.
Tony's personality only improved—slightly—after he became Iron Man. Before the cave in Afghanistan, Tony Stark was just Tony Stark: a brilliant, toxic, self-centered playboy who didn't give a damn about anyone else.
Men like that didn't have friends. Happy and Pepper didn't count; they were more like caretakers, cleanup crews designed to smooth over the egos Tony bruised and apologize for his behavior.
Locke had initially suspected the two mercenaries he'd seen were targeting Stark. After all, Tony had as many enemies as he had flings.
He was truly baffled by those "transmigrators" who tried to befriend Tony before the Iron Man era. If you didn't understand his character and just blindly approached him, only two outcomes were possible: he'd ignore you, or he'd humiliate you, much like he did the inventor of the Extremis virus.
Even after he became Iron Man, did people really think everyone could be his friend? Look at his social circle—aside from beautiful women, was there a single person who wasn't a superhero?
Because of this, Locke had no intention of making contact. Besides, the age gap was too wide. Locke was barely seventeen; Tony was thirty-five. An eighteen-year gap? They had zero common ground.
But that didn't stop Locke from taking his money.
Tony looked at the chips pushed forward. His gaze, which usually looked down on everything, flickered with interest. "Then I'm afraid your luck ends here."
Tony flipped his cards. A Straight Flush.
Locke raised an eyebrow and said sincerely, "Impressive."
Tony picked up his glass and sipped his Bourbon. "I don't need to cheat to know your name. This is, in a way, my ship. I know every guest on board. So, I win."
"Is that so?"
Locke chuckled and, as he had done every other time, flipped his cards.
*Pfft!*
Happy, who was drinking nearby, nearly choked. The others at the table were stunned. Tony, mid-sip, stared at Locke's cards, his brow twitching.
WTF?
The dealer shared a moment of deep shock before regaining professional composure. "Mr. Stark: 8, 9, 10, J, Q of Hearts. A Straight Flush."
"Mr. Broughton: 10, J, Q, K, A of Hearts. A Royal Flush."
"Royal Flush wins!"
Locke smiled at the King and Ace of Hearts he had just revealed. He looked at Tony. "My luck is always here, because I've already found my Goddess."
After a brief moment of being dazed, Tony laughed and set down his glass. "Mr. Broughton, any interest in a position at my satellite company?"
Locke looked at him, smiling.
Tony added, "With you there, I imagine my satellite launches would never face another failure."
Locke replied smoothly, "Sorry, I'm still in school. And my major isn't engineering. Engineering feels a bit too simple; I prefer something more challenging. For instance, I've set a small goal for myself: four PhDs."
"I have three."
"I know."
"..."
...
Half an hour later, Locke checked his phone. Seeing the $50 million deposit, his eyes gleamed. But he was even more pleased to see his mission multiplier had hit 62.
Gwen, walking beside him, muttered, "This isn't scientific."
Locke tucked his phone away. "Because you are my Lady Luck, it's perfectly scientific!"
His luck was a constant; everyone else's was a variable. Clearly, Tony's Lady Luck wasn't home today—or perhaps he just hadn't realized who she was yet. It was only natural for him to lose.
Gwen looked at him curiously. "Are you sure you're a Texas cowboy and not a professional gambler from Las Vegas?"
"Dylan is the professional, I'm not," Locke laughed, pulling Gwen closer. "I told you, with you here, I'm incredibly lucky."
Locke leaned down and kissed her.
He had no interest in gambling for the sake of it. He only played because he knew he would win. If there were a chance of losing, Locke would simply find a way to tip the scales before sitting down.
...
They entered the grand dining hall, which was packed with people waiting for the New Year's countdown.
Cindy, who was already eating, spotted them. "I thought you two were having a private dinner with the great Tony Stark."
As they sat, Gwen shook her head. "Maybe in the future, but not today."
Pepper Potts had indeed invited them to join their private New Year's celebration after the game. But Locke had declined, and Gwen felt it wasn't necessary. At least, not yet.
"Right now, we don't have much in common with Tony Stark or even Ms. Potts," Gwen explained. "If it's just to suck up to them, it would be an uncomfortable evening. Since we aren't looking for favors, it's better to just say hello and leave. They're happy, and Locke and I are happy too."
Gwen knew that if they had stayed, no one would have truly enjoyed themselves. What would they talk about? When she had been chatting with the other women, she could tell that while they were polite, they weren't genuinely interested in her life.
Besides, Locke had just taken at least ten million from their husbands and thirty million from Tony. She was half-afraid they'd be "disappeared" to get the money back!
Most importantly, Gwen didn't want to flatter anyone. Equal friendship was one thing, but her pride wouldn't let her grovel.
Locke certainly didn't need to. Fifty million dollars—even in New York, if he spent it wisely, it was enough for total financial freedom.
However, Gwen didn't mention the fifty million to Cindy or Kahn. They were friends, but news like that was a magnet for trouble.
And...
***
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