Chapter Four

"It's a damn good story!" Chloe slammed her hands down on the chief's desk and set her jaw. "You know it is, Yvonne!"

The other woman glared back just as hard, the tone of her mocha skin deepening slightly. "I never said it wasn't good, what I said was it's dangerous."

"And when has that ever stopped a paper from printing a ground breaking expose? This is good stuff, it's true, and I have a reliable source to back it up. Is this because I'm a woman?"

Yvonne's eyebrows shot up and her delicate features fell into lines of incredulity. Chloe knew she'd made an idiotic comment, but she was so stoked she couldn't seem to stop herself.

"That was monumentally –"

"Stupid, yeah, I know." Chloe gave a long sigh and tilted her head. "But Yvonne, this story has to be told. If we don't do it, no one else will. My source doesn't trust anyone else other than me. If we sit on this, and something awful happens, it'll be our fault."

"I'm a mom, too, Ms. Sullivan; I perfected the guilt trip years ago." She gave her an assessing look before letting out a deep breath. "You're going to do this with or without my permission, I know that. It's just…police corruption, ties with the mob, that's dangerous territory. These people aren't going to be very happy with you."

Sensing victory, Chloe spared a smile. "When are they ever happy with me? I'm willing to take the risk. God knows I've dealt with some crazy stuff in my time."

"This isn't just crazy, Chloe, this is…well, I don't think I have to warn you again. You're a smart girl, so use that brain when you go after this."

"So…you're giving me the go ahead?" She felt the first shivers of genuine excitement quickening inside of her.

"If you can promise me that your source is nearly infallible –"

"He is!"

"And if you promise to come with me if you receive a threat of any kind, benign or not. Oh, then there's this." She reached down, picked up a pink papered note, and handed Chloe the slip of paper. "Mr. Wayne has decided to give his first interview in two years, and he's asked for you personally."

Chloe took the note from her boss's hand, her eyebrow lifted. "He wants me to interview him? Today? At four o'clock? But that's…" she quickly checked her watch then gave her editor a panicked look. "That's in less than an hour. Why didn't someone call me? I barely have time to scrawl down a few questions."

Yvonne crossed her arms across her chest and pursed her lips in amusement. "We did try to reach you, but you were off chasing the story I hadn't given you permission to ferret out. I'm guessing you shut off your phone."

"Oh." For the second time in five minutes she felt more than a little foolish. "Yeah, I guess I did."

"I guess so."

Chloe looked at the older woman and felt like a teenager in trouble with their favorite aunt. Squaring her shoulders, she gave Yvonne a quick nod. "Well, if I'm going to interview Bruce Wayne, I guess I should go get started on some preliminary work."

Her boss didn't say a word as she hurried out of the room, closing the editor's door behind her with a soft exclamation of air. She was going to do her story. She was going to blow the lid right off of the recurring corruption in the police department. She felt the smile start from her toes and work its way up to her face, bringing a wide grin and a heady gust of pride.

She ignored the niggling of doubt at the back of her mind, the small dose of fear and uncertainty about what she was about to do. Heaven knew she'd exposed plenty of dangerous things in her life as a reporter. But this felt…different. It felt somehow more volatile. Even Marty had been uncharacteristically antsy when they'd met, greeting her with a full disguise this time instead of just a hat and sunglasses.

No, she wasn't going to be scared away. She was going to sink her teeth into this story, and then she was going to enjoy watching the guilty pay.

Bruce watched her come into his private offices through the small bank of monitors he kept hidden behind cherry oak doors. Even in black and white there was something about her that screamed for attention. It wasn't that she was obvious about her beauty; on the contrary, she didn't appear to wear layers of make up or buckets of hair spray. Instead, she was naturally pretty, beckoning a man to notice her. And he had. It was hard not to.

He'd hoped she'd wear her red coat today, and he wasn't disappointed. The color should have drained her skin, making her look sallow, but it didn't. Instead it made her look…vibrant, he decided.

He felt himself react to her, even though she wasn't in his office. He wanted to invite her in, scrap the interview, and teach her exactly how he liked to be kissed, and exactly how he liked to be touched. He could easily imagine her spread across his leather couch, her pretty green hazel eyes hazy with passion, her lips wet and swollen, and her skin flushed. If Lex Luther hadn't been hovering over her like an over protective father, he might have seen her just like that the night of the ball.

The phone on his desk buzzed, interrupting his wayward thoughts. Slowly, he closed the cabinets in front of him and turned to make his way to his desk. Slipping into his tall leather chair, he depressed the button of the intercom.

"Yes, Ms. Kensington?"

"Ms. Lois Lane is here to see you, sir."

So, she was back to that pseudonym, he thought. Probably trying to create the barrier of business. "Send her in."

He stood as the door opened, sending out a small smile as Chloe stepped into his private sanctum. He knew what she saw; it was exactly what he wanted every to see: a richly appointed room with a window of walls that overlooked Gotham. Thick beige carpeting covered the floor, plush leather furniture sat in repose, and a side bar stood like a gleaming, congenial host in the far wall. His desk had also been bought as a prop. Wide, thick, and gleaming, the oversized cherry wood desk had always served its purpose to intimidate. But he didn't see that in Chloe Sullivan's eyes. Instead he saw obvious interest.

"Thank you for coming, Ms. Sullivan."

"No, today I'm Ms. Lane, Mr. Wayne. I'm here as a reporter, remember?" She gave him a devilish look and very nearly laughed.

"And here I was thinking I'd be sitting down with my friend, Chloe," he commented softly.

"You haven't known Chloe that long," she pointed out. "One lift home and one dance does not a friendship make."

"Yet many relationships have been built on less."

She cocked her head and studied him with an appreciative gaze. "Oh, that's very good, Mr. Wayne. Cliché, but still good."

He did smile then, his lips twisting despite themselves. "I thought I'd already asked you to call me Bruce."

"Okay…Bruce," she replied, moving to stand just on the other side of the desk.

"See, it didn't hurt a bit. And I'll call you Chloe."

He thought she might protest, but she seemed to think better of it. She finally shook her head and sent him a crooked grin.

"If that's what you'd like."

His eyes lowered slightly. "Oh, it is, Chloe. Why don't you have a seat, and we'll talk."

"You mean you'll talk, and I'll ask questions and take notes."

With brisk moves, she had her coat off and gently laid across the back of the soft leather chair. He could appreciate her movements, knew that it was the inherent grace of her genes that made her so lithe. He'd spent months trying to learn to manipulate his body into grace like hers.

He watched her as she slipped into the seat, deciding not to give up the power his standing position gave him. "I'll make a deal with you, Chloe."

"Uh-oh."

Bruce quirked his eyebrow at her muttered response. "Uh-oh? What's that supposed to mean?"

She shifted her weight, carefully balancing her notebook and pen against her lap as she stared at him. "I don't like deals, Bruce, especially not when it comes to my job."

"Ah, but you're here for an exclusive; I think your editor would expect you to…be agreeable with the subject." He saw the look of tolerance on her face and knew he had her cornered. "Trust me, Chloe, it's not anything kinky…unless, of course, you like that sort of thing."

"Is that your big secret? The CEO who stashes whips and chains in his bottom drawers?"

It sounded so ridiculous he laughed, long and hard. "Nothing like that, Little Red. I keep all of that locked away safely at my house."

She lifted her eyebrow and sent him a mockingly shocked look. "Wayne Manor must be one hell of a place at night. No wonder Alfred has trouble at anyone directly. Sheer embarrassment for the poor man."

Bruce shook his head and propped his hip against the corner of his desk. "Trust me, Alfred has more secrets than I do."

"So he's the one having the wild orgies on the expensive side of town? It's always the quiet ones."

He grinned at her as he conjured up the image of the man who'd raised him in a leather outfit. "Alfred likes you," he said softly. "I believe you won him over when you fixed his collar. I think the last person to ever do that was my mother."

He watched as her expression softened into lines of sympathy. From anyone else the look would have raised his hackles; from her he took it as a true sign of understanding.

"Your parents…you must miss them."

He leaned down, capturing her gaze with his. He could see the light of kindred pain there. "You've lost your parents, too?"

"No, I still have my father; he's a wonderful man. My mother…well, after she left us, my dad really took up the reins of raising me. Trust me, it couldn't have been easy." She gave a quick, slightly tense laugh. "But we're not here to talk about me, we're here to discuss the elusive Bruce Wayne."

He could have pushed his advantage, but that would have only alienated her, creating a rift he didn't want to cause. He would take it slow, give her time to get used to having him around, and carefully carve out information about her as they went along. For now, he'd let her know exactly what kind of person he was up front. Then she'd have the chance to run like hell in the other direction of she chose to.

"You're absolutely right," he said, pushing himself up and moving towards his chair. "I did promise you an interview, didn't I? So, Chloe, what would you like to know first?"

Lex balanced the large paper bag in one hand and knocked on the door with the other. He should have called, he thought again; he should have warned her he was coming. He should have made sure she was by herself. He should have made sure she wasn't out on a date with Mr. Bruce Wayne. It was bad enough when he'd found out from Yvonne that the billionaire had called to personally ask for Chloe to do his interview. He'd been battling images of the two of them together, laughing, smiling, sharing secrets and growing closer. He didn't even want to re-imagine the quick picture he'd had of them actually touching.

Grinding his teeth, he forced his animosity down and schooled his features carefully. He hated that he was questioning himself, that Chloe had brought him down to this level of uncertainty. But then, if any woman was ever going make him second guess his actions, it would only be Chloe Sullivan. He shifted his weight in agitation and lifted his fist to knock again. He was relieved when he finally heard the scraping of her locks.

A moment later her freshly scrubbed face was framed in the doorway. "Why, Lex Luthor, my landlord; what a surprise that the super sent you up to fix my clogged sink."

He lifted his eyebrow in question and tried not to stare down at the ratty robe that encased her. "Clogged sink?"

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, a clogged sink, something us mere mortals have to deal with on our own."

"If you need a plumber, I could call –"

"Oh, Lex, I'm only kidding." She moved aside and motioned with her hand before she continued, her voice tinged with laughter. "Come on in, Mr. Boss Man. I promise, nothing's going to explode or gurgle."

He wasn't sure what to make of her mood, but decided to enjoy it while he could. Stepping inside, he saw that her laptop was sitting open on the coffee table and pile of cushions had been spread on the floor.

"I'm sorry, you're working," he said, holding back a cringe at the thin sound of his voice.

"Yes, I was, but please interrupt me. I think I'm going cross eyed and over editing myself." She sighed as she relocked her door, her bare feet sliding soundlessly against the floor. "So, is that incriminating evidence you need me to stash?"

He wrinkled his brow in question before he finally realized she was talking about the sack in his hand. Frustrated over his brain's sluggish function, he held up the bag and sent her a small smile.

"Dinner," he said, "Chinese."

"Your date didn't show and you thought of me?" she asked with a smirk and lifted eyebrows.

He couldn't stop the grin that moved up his mouth. "Something like that. I believe Clark said something about shrimp lo mien being your favorite?"

"You sure do know a way to a woman's heart, Mr. Luthor."

He ignored the skipped beat of his own heart and swallowed a leap of desire as she hurried over to grab the food from him. Her vanilla scent traveled around him, floating on the air and taunting him as she scooted by. He turned to watch her, nearly mesmerized as she sat the sack down on the kitchen counter and started rummaging through it.

"How did you know I was starving?" she asked, her nose still in the bag.

"Wild guess," he replied, finally stepping up to stand across from her. "Yvonne told me you were working on a major story, and I remember how you forget to eat sometimes."

She looked up, her eyes shining as she cocked her head. "My hero."

He didn't quite smile, instead holding back the urge to reach out and take her lifted lips with his. The urge to touch her, to taste her, was becoming almost too overwhelming to control. And yet he couldn't make himself leave her. The thought of climbing on his plane and flying away from her was more painful than the idea of staying near her.

He wished he could confess that to Chloe, but he knew he couldn't. It would ruin their friendship, and his tangled feelings had the potential to destroy her life. Instead of telling her his secret, he fell back on his sarcasm. That, he knew, she would appreciate.

"I bring you dinner and I'm your hero? You're easily impressed, Ms. Sullivan. What would I be if I'd brought you chocolate from Switzerland?"

"I would worship you," she teased, then turned to pull out the chopsticks.

He felt himself harden to near steel. His mind was already creating images of Chloe worshiping him, in all the right and erotic ways. With her lithe hands, with her warm mouth, and finally with her luscious body. And he'd be a slave to her, completely at her mercy, gladly giving up his power to her.

"Margaritas?"

Her one word question snapped him back abruptly. His eyes fell on her cleavage, the gentle rise of her obviously unbound breasts swelling against the shabby blue terrycloth. He bit back a moan just in time.

"Um, no, no alcohol," he managed, shocked that his words were actually steady. "I'm driving." And if I get too relaxed, I'll probably try to seduce you on the living room floor, he thought.

"Yeah, you're probably right. Soda it is."

He waited until she'd turned her back to let out a deep breath. What had started as a simple idea for an hour with Chloe was turning into brutal, heavenly, torture. When she reached up for glasses he picked up the small containers of food and the chopsticks and spun on his heel. He stared around the apartment for a moment, trying to clear his mind as he searched for the kitchen table. He finally found it, unceremoniously placed in the center of what looked to be a graciously spaced breakfast nook with a view of the city. There didn't seem to be a clean space on the oval surface; instead, it was covered with books and paper, obviously research material that Chloe used and never bothered to put away.

"Oh, I eat over there," she said, pointing towards the coffee table. "There's never any room on the actual dining room table."

"Did you ever consider cleaning it off?" he asked dryly.

"Why? I'd just pull the same books down to use them five minutes later. Oh, don't worry Mr. Landlord; I promise it's not a fire hazard."

He shook his head as she came around him, carrying their drinks in her hands. He followed, careful to keep his eyes trained on her shoulder and not the gentle sway of her hips. Her very nice hips. The hips that led to a nicely rounded bottom and shapely legs –

"So, why did you really come over tonight, Lex?"

Her point blank question held more of an innuendo than she knew. As nonchalantly as he could, he placed the food containers on the squat, gently worn coffee table and turned to her.

"I told you, I talked to Yvonne."

"And she told you all about my new story." Chloe let out a plaintive sigh and sank down to the cushions strewn in front of the couch. "Please don't tell me you're going to try to talk me out of doing it."

He lifted his eyebrow and slowly sat down beside her. This was certainly a new development. He had no idea what she was talking about, but obviously there was more involved to this story than her others.

He let his eyes roam her tired face for a moment. "Would you stop if I asked you to?"

"Please don't ask me," she said softly, her head falling forward so that her chin rested on her chest. "I know it's going to be hard, and I know it's not going to be easy, but you can't ask me to walk away from it now. It's just too important."

"How important is it, Chloe?" he questioned gently.

"More important than I think anyone realizes. The things my contact has told me, the things he's shown me…it runs deep, Lex. Really, really deep. So deep, that I doubt Commissioner Gordon realizes it's there." She looked up suddenly, her usually mottled green eyes swimming towards golden brown with troubled worry. "Look, I know this could be…risky, but somebody has to step up and take that chance."

Well, hell, now he wished he'd questioned Yvonne more extensively than he had. As it was, he'd been so preoccupied with thoughts of Chloe that he hadn't really heard the chief editor's rundown of recent stories and what was in the works. He'd been too intent on making plans for seeing Chloe. But whatever it was she was working on, the woman beside him obviously wasn't going to let it drop, no matter what the argument might be or who might ask her to let it go. When she got her teeth into something big, she held onto it like a rabid Doberman Pincher, he knew that from past experience. If he pushed her to stop, she would pretend to, but he knew that she'd still work on it in her own time, and he'd be locked out of whatever it was she was doing. He couldn't take that risk. It would be better to let the subject lie for now, to let her go on with whatever it was she was pursuing, and keep careful tabs on her as she worked. Silently he resolved to put one of his own security detail on her as a tail, just to make sure she was kept safe.

In a tender gesture that was much too telling, Lex moved Chloe's hair from her cheek and carefully tucked it behind her ear. "Alright, I won't ask you not to do this. Just promise me you'll be careful, and if you need anything, or think that something might be wrong –"

"I'll tell you," she promised quietly. "I swear, Lex, I'll be careful, and you won't regret this."

When the smile returned to her face full force, he felt his fear for her rise a notch. This was beyond her run-ins with Bruce Wayne. This was way past any lingering feelings she might have for Clark Kent. Something in his gut told him that what she was working on was more volatile than even she knew. Even as she dug into her lo mien he found himself regretting not forcing her hand.