Clark tried to focus solely on the numbers, but he couldn't stop thinking about her. Lois Lane drove him crazy. She had from the day she first started working at the Daily Planet.

He kept replaying the rescue from the other day over and over in his head. For a moment, she had looked at him as if he wasn't someone to be despised or pitied. She wasn't impressed when he threw his money around like he had at the benefit, but his heroics apparently did it for her.

He had found Lois' weak spot, and he could use this information to his advantage, to help control her, and he would.

Even in his distracted thinking, he could see the numbers just weren't adding up. He pressed the call button to his secretary, "Ms. DeWitt, can you send up the head accountant, please." The polite tone belied his white hot fury.

How dare someone think they could embezzle funds from LuthorCorp and he wouldn't notice?

The guy came in all meek. "Yes, sir? You wanted to see me?"

"Books aren't adding up, Bonilla. There's thousands of dollars unaccounted for. You want to explain that to me?"

"I don't know, sir. A mathematical error?"

That only added to his anger. If he was going to steal out from under him, he should at least have the guts to own up to it when caught. "I don't pay you to make errors. And I definitely don't pay you to pad your pockets."

His face blanched. "It's not like that. My mother needed an operation. I had every intention of paying it back."

This sniveling coward deserved to be put out of his misery. He could be merciful though. He'd use his heat vision and make it quick. The heat was gathering behind his eyes when there was a notification of a text message.

He looked at his phone and read. I changed my mind about doing your story. Meet me at the Planet?

She might change her mind again if she found out one of his employees ended up not so mysteriously murdered. "Get out of my sight," he told the man, "and never come back. I'd go as far away as possible if I were you because I can't be held responsible for my actions should I happen to run into you again."

sss

Oliver Queen was waiting for him when he came out of the building, leaning against it with folded arms.

Clark smirked. The man was brave, considering their last interaction. "To what do I owe the displeasure of this meeting?" he asked even as he walked toward the parking garage. He didn't need to drive anymore with everyone knowing his true identity, but he still liked the power and luxury that driving his Lamborghini symbolized.

The man caught up with his strides. "I don't know what your game is, Luthor, but stay away from my wife."

He chuckled. He should have guessed. "So you've come to mark your territory, have you? I wonder how Lois would feel about that?"

He didn't answer. He knew very well how Lois would feel about that, not very happy. "What she feels or doesn't feel is not your concern. She told me about your little save yesterday."

"Did she now? Are you suggesting I should have let her get shot, but I can see why you're worried. She did seem pretty enamored with me." He was enjoying goading him. It had been a favorite activity of his since boarding school. It was just the thing he needed to improve his mood after the run-in with his now ex-employee.

"Ha! You wish."

He stopped to flash a grin his way. "As a matter of fact, I'm on my way to see her now. She requested my presence. What can I say? Women love me, and your wife is no exception."

"If she asked for you, it's work-related. Quit trying to make it sound like some passionate rendezvous. If she feels anything for you besides unadulterated hatred, it's simple compassion. Lois always has had sympathy for stray mongrels like yourself."

The words cut deep. It'd been a favorite slur of Lionel's to remind him that he had to prove his worth as a Luthor more so than any of the other children because he was only an adopted son. He was especially fond of using it when he was holding kryptonite over him and kicking his ribs for some perceived slight though Clark realized now looking back that it was a form of control rather than being truly angry with him.

He fought his murderous impulses for the second time that day. The article that came from this meeting had better turn public opinion around or he'd kill Oliver in front of the entire city and embrace their fear of him instead.