Lex could buy governments, ruin corporations, influence elections, and have an entire building evacuated because he disliked the noise coming from one particular floor.

He was a man of extraordinary wealth, considerable power, and enough influence to make otherwise sensible people forget how to breathe when he entered a room.

Unfortunately, none of that meant a damn thing to his wife.

He could negotiate a multibillion-dollar merger without breaking a sweat, yet somehow found himself agreeing to activities he’d never voluntarily participate in if left to his own devices.

Pumpkin picking.

Couples’ pottery classes.

Matching pajamas.

A weekend getaway to a destination she’d discovered through a thirty-second social media video.

And, most recently, an elaborate afternoon itinerary that involved visiting three separate shops, getting lunch somewhere with an absurdly long waiting list, and attending an event he’d been assured was going to be fun.

Lex had attempted to negotiate.

Naturally.

He’d pointed out that his schedule was full, that several executives were waiting on his approval, and that he had absolutely no intention of spending his Saturday afternoon surrounded by strangers doing something that could easily be accomplished by hiring a professional.

His wife had simply looked at him.

That look.

The one that suggested he had committed a grievous personal offense by assuming he possessed the authority to decline her invitation.

She’d tilted her head, raised an eyebrow, and regarded him with such exaggerated disbelief that Lex had briefly wondered whether she’d forgotten who she was married to.

Apparently, she had.

Because the next thing he knew, she was laughing, returning to her planner, and adding another stop to their already ridiculous itinerary.

Lex stared at her.

Then at the planner.

Then back at her.

“You’re aware I have an entire company to run, aren’t you?”

She continued writing.

He narrowed his eyes.

“I employ people specifically to handle these sorts of things.”

Another addition to the schedule.

Lex leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly through his nose.

“This is an abuse of power.”

She laughed again.

He hated how much he liked that sound.

The worst part was that she never seemed particularly impressed by his protests. She’d listen to his objections, consider them with the seriousness of a judge hearing a particularly weak defense, and then proceed as though she’d already received his agreement.

Which, in fairness, she usually had.

Lex could intimidate board members, dismantle competitors, and make entire rooms reconsider their positions with a single carefully chosen sentence.

His wife could defeat him with one look and a cheerful little laugh.

It was humiliating.

It was also, though he’d rather be shot than admit it publicly, one of his favorite things about her.

She never treated him like a walking bank account or an untouchable figure who required constant deference. She treated him like her husband—a stubborn, occasionally insufferable man who needed to be reminded that life existed beyond his office.

And she wanted him there for it.

Not his money. Not his security team. Not a driver waiting outside while he answered emails.

Him.

Lex glanced at the planner again.

“Three shops?”

She nodded toward the page.

He stared at the schedule for several seconds before straightening his cuffs.

“Fine. But if anyone asks, I was coerced.”

His wife laughed, already moving on to the next part of her plan.

Lex watched her for a moment, the faintest smile betraying him.

He could have refused.

He could have rescheduled his meetings, sent an assistant in his place, or simply reminded her that he was Lex Luthor and didn’t take orders from anyone.

Instead, he reached for his phone and began moving his appointments.

Because the truth was rather inconvenient.

He could have the entire world at his feet.

But if his wife wanted to spend Saturday dragging him around town, he’d be there with her.

Complaining the entire time, naturally.

He still had a reputation to maintain.