Chapter 373: Meeting The Real Boss
As Anton left the building, he stalked down the steps with heavy, uneven strides, muttering curses under his breath. His jaw still ached from Darno’s brutal punch, and every movement sent a dull throb radiating across his face. He shoved a hand into his jacket pocket, searching for his phone so he could call his driver and retreat to safety. But as his fingers brushed through the fabric, another thought struck him.
"Forget the driver," Anton whispered, forcing a smug grin to return to his swollen face. "I’ll just drive the gift home myself. That’ll calm me down. Nothing feels better than putting my hands on a brand-new wheel."
Yet when his hand dipped deeper into his pocket, the grin quickly melted away. His fingers fumbled at empty air, and realization hit him like a bucket of cold water.
"What the, ? Where are they?" He patted himself down, turning out his jacket and trousers with frantic energy. No jingling sound, no metallic weight. His stomach sank. "No... don’t tell me... did that rascal really take my keys?"
Anton froze on the sidewalk, staring back toward the towering headquarters of the Billion Bloodline Group. His first instinct was to storm back inside, demand his property, and raise hell until someone listened. He clenched his fists and even spun halfway around, ready to march back through those heavy glass doors.
But then the image of Darno’s grin and that devastating fist flashed in his mind. He stopped dead, pivoted back again, and exhaled through clenched teeth.
"No," Anton muttered. "Charging back in there would be suicide. That thug would break my nose next. I have to think... I have to be smart about this. If I rush in without a plan, I’ll lose more than a car key, I’ll lose everything."
He paced along the pavement, running a hand through his perfectly groomed hair, though now it was a mess of sweat and disarray.
"Right now, the deal is what matters. That’s all that matters. If I go back to my father empty-handed, he’ll eat me alive. He’ll say this is my fault, like he always does. And if I tell him what happened, that some receptionist knocked me out cold, he’ll never believe me. Even if he did, he’d still blame me for letting it happen in the first place."
Anton’s lips curled with frustration, and he let out a humorless laugh that only deepened the ache in his jaw.
"No. The truth won’t help me here. What I need is another way in. A different angle. They can’t all hate me in there... That guy was probably lying. The only representative I’ve met face-to-face is that Warma fellow, and there’s no bad blood between us. Why would they refuse to meet me without a reason?"
Walking back inside clearly wasn’t an option. His pride wanted it, but his common sense knew better. He needed another plan, a safer way to secure a meeting before the company officially opened its doors. And then, as the thought formed, he realized exactly what he had to do.
"There’s one person," Anton whispered. "One person who’s already managed to get their foot in the door, who’s already struck a deal with them once. If they did it before, they can do it again, this time for me."
His decision made, Anton wasted no time. He spent the next hour making frantic calls to smooth over his appearance, arranging quick treatment for the swelling in his face, and bribing a private nurse to reduce the bruising with ice and salves. It wasn’t perfect, but at least he no longer looked like he’d crawled out of a brawl in an alleyway.
By late afternoon, he was standing before one of the most luxurious apartments in Notting Hill, straightening his suit jacket and forcing a confident smile onto his lips despite the pain.
The door opened, and Sanna Curts stood framed in the light, her expression flickering from surprise to concern.
"Anton? What on earth happened to your face?" she asked, her tone sharp.
Anton chuckled nervously and waved it off with exaggerated ease. "Ah, this? Nothing serious. I tripped this morning and smacked the side of my face against a wall. Clumsy, I know. I’ve been icing it since, so don’t worry too much."
Sanna frowned. "We could have postponed our meeting. You didn’t need to come all the way here if you weren’t feeling well."
"Nonsense," Anton replied quickly, though the smile tugging at his lips nearly split his aching skin. He winced, catching himself, then composed his features again. "Business never stops, Sanna. Meetings are meetings. A little pain won’t keep me from handling important matters. Besides, this is too crucial to delay."
Sanna studied him for a moment, but eventually nodded, stepping aside to usher him in. "Very well. If you insist. Come in."
The interior of the Curts residence was as lavish as Anton expected, marble floors, chandeliers casting warm light, the scent of imported perfumes lingering in the air. A staff member swiftly appeared, bowing slightly before setting drinks on the dining table where the two soon sat facing each other.
Anton wasted no time, leaning forward with practiced charm. "I’ll be frank, Sanna. I came here today to ask you a favor. I was hoping you could help arrange an early meeting with the Billion Bloodline Group. You see, I know their funds aren’t infinite. They’ll only choose a select number of companies to invest in, and I can’t risk waiting my turn. I need that first leg up."
Sanna raised a brow but said nothing yet, sipping her drink while Anton pressed on.
"Since you have a personal connection with them already, I thought perhaps you could introduce me, or at least contact them to set up a meeting. An introduction is all I ask, once I’m in the room, I can handle the rest."
Sanna set down her glass, her fingers tapping lightly against its rim. "I suspected as much," she said quietly. "You’re not the first to come to me with this request, Anton."
Anton laughed lightly, trying to soften the mood. "Of course. Everyone wants a piece of something new and successful. But consider this, Sanna: our families have always had a strong relationship. Helping me isn’t just a favor, it’s an investment in that relationship. If you do this, the Stable family will stand behind you. We’ll become your official sponsors. You’ll have stalls at all our luxury car events, free of charge. And if you ever find yourself needing funding, you won’t just have the Billion Bloodline Group, you’ll have us as backup."
He spread his hands as though the matter were obvious. "A win-win, don’t you think?"
Sanna leaned back, considering his words carefully. She didn’t dislike the offer, though she found herself wondering why Anton, with the Stable family’s wealth and influence, hadn’t simply secured the meeting himself. Normally, his family name opened doors without question. Why then was he so desperate for her assistance?
’Maybe he really does want to strengthen ties with us,’ she thought, giving him the benefit of the doubt.
"So, to be clear," she said, folding her hands together. "You want me to go on your behalf. To meet with the Bloodline Group directly, and to ask if they’ll hear out your pitch. Is that right?"
Anton nodded eagerly, though a sliver of fear ran beneath his polished smile. He couldn’t afford for them to hear his name too soon, not after what happened at the headquarters. Better to let someone else act as his messenger.
"Exactly," Anton said. "That’s all I ask. An introduction. A bridge."
Sanna’s eyes brightened as an idea sparked. She snapped her fingers in the air, the sound sharp and decisive.
"Perfect," she said. "I know exactly who to send. Sheri. We’ve already discussed her doing an internship with their company, and since graduation she hasn’t taken on much work. This will be the perfect chance for her, an introduction for you, and experience for her. Everyone benefits."
Anton forced another smile, his heart pounding in his chest. Sheri? Of all people... Still, he nodded quickly, masking his unease.
"Yes," he said. "That sounds wonderful. Absolutely perfect."