The reservation was under L. Luthor & Associate. Nothing suspicious. Nothing intimate. Just another discreet evening buried beneath the polished etiquette of high society.

Lex arrived early—he always did. The lighting was low, the air perfumed with expensive wine and quiet conversation. Every eye in the restaurant turned toward him at least once, though most looked away just as quickly. Power had that effect; it was as visible as it was dangerous.

When she entered, the shift in the room was almost imperceptible—but Lex noticed. He noticed everything. Her reflection flickered in the glass wall beside him before she reached the table. No greeting. No smile. Only the subtle arc of her wrist as she took her seat, the faint brush of her perfume crossing the space between them.

He poured the wine, slow and deliberate, as if conducting an experiment. Numbers, stocks, and mergers filled the air for the benefit of anyone listening—but beneath the thin veneer of professionalism, there was something else. Something quieter.

Each glance, each movement, was a negotiation. Each silence, a signed contract neither of them would ever acknowledge.

To the world, it was a business meeting. But Lex had never been good at separating power from desire.