'I think you chose the wrong girl.'
'Hmm, and why is that? You are beautiful...' eyes raked her up and down in lazy and intrusive appraisal, but she has become impervious to such scrutiny and is unfazed. '...no doubt, but what else is there to you—apart from a penchant for billionaires, that is.'
She stares calmly back at the man in front of her and sits back in her chair. 'Well, for one,' she says, leaning forward, and feeling the eyes opposite dip inevitably to her cleavage, 'I always keep my end of a bargain. I would never bail. Not for money...', now she knows she has his attention, so she calmly sways back and crosses her legs, ' and certainly not for some outdated, troublesome, high moral ground.'
She is playing him now, all nervousness gone, like she has played countless men before him, inveigling him with every move of her body, every change of expression, every cadence of her voice. ' I may not be a reporter, but I can certainly go down,' she pauses, adjusts her bracelet and meets his eyes again, 'and dig.'
There is no clutter in Lionel's office, nothing to break the impact of the savagely powerful man before her, only the hardness of steel and the inexorability of glass, the emptiness of white and the blankness of gray. She feels like a specimen under examination, and feels the moisture gather on her upper lip, but knows that nothing of her inner trepidation shows on her face. There is a space of time in that vast office, when she can hear the hum of the air-conditioning, and she waits for his decision. Her cards are on the table, the stakes are very high, and she has no Plan B. Once again, it is only her thudding heart that keeps her company.
Lionel leans back in arrogant disregard to good manners; she expects nothing else.
'I have no doubts as to your talents. However, the question is, are you in the same position of strength that you were in five years ago, and which you threw away so lamentably?
'As my son no doubt made clear to you, Ms. Lang, opportunity is a fickle friend.'
She is prepared for this assault. 'Lex should have known better. I can do everything I could do five years ago, and much, much more.'
Lionel is amused. And then, in an apparent non sequitur. 'His girlfriend, the good Ms. Lane, is interviewing me tomorrow. Young Kent will no doubt also be there.'
'She has worked long and hard to get this interview, unlike you, who I believe, just walked in and demanded my time. I wonder what made me see you?' He pauses to reflect. 'I must have been in an unusually good mood.'
She smiles sweetly—after all, flirtation is her forte. 'But then, I am not the big corporation slaying bitch am I? And you were curious why Lex went to see me.'
'I admire your forthrightness, amongst other things of course. I like you.' says Lionel, 'but business accepts terms, not fancies and impressions. Were we to come to an understanding, Ms. Lang, what would you want from me?
'Your son has made life... difficult for me. I would want you to back my play.'
'Against my own blood?' His tone is incredulous.
Lana barely bats her eyelashes at the rejoinder. He picks up his pen, signaling her dismissal. 'You will need to prove yourself, of course.'
She gathers her bag and walks around the imposing desk to where he sits. The deep pile of the carpet makes her a bit unsteady on her stilettos, but her poise is undiminished.
'You know that interview that is so important, the one that Clark really, really wanted?' she says, leaning into him, her voice dipping sensually ' He won't be here for it.' Then she turns and walks out the office, feeling his gaze on the sway of her hips.
'Hmm, and why is that? You are beautiful...' eyes raked her up and down in lazy and intrusive appraisal, but she has become impervious to such scrutiny and is unfazed. '...no doubt, but what else is there to you—apart from a penchant for billionaires, that is.'
She stares calmly back at the man in front of her and sits back in her chair. 'Well, for one,' she says, leaning forward, and feeling the eyes opposite dip inevitably to her cleavage, 'I always keep my end of a bargain. I would never bail. Not for money...', now she knows she has his attention, so she calmly sways back and crosses her legs, ' and certainly not for some outdated, troublesome, high moral ground.'
She is playing him now, all nervousness gone, like she has played countless men before him, inveigling him with every move of her body, every change of expression, every cadence of her voice. ' I may not be a reporter, but I can certainly go down,' she pauses, adjusts her bracelet and meets his eyes again, 'and dig.'
There is no clutter in Lionel's office, nothing to break the impact of the savagely powerful man before her, only the hardness of steel and the inexorability of glass, the emptiness of white and the blankness of gray. She feels like a specimen under examination, and feels the moisture gather on her upper lip, but knows that nothing of her inner trepidation shows on her face. There is a space of time in that vast office, when she can hear the hum of the air-conditioning, and she waits for his decision. Her cards are on the table, the stakes are very high, and she has no Plan B. Once again, it is only her thudding heart that keeps her company.
Lionel leans back in arrogant disregard to good manners; she expects nothing else.
'I have no doubts as to your talents. However, the question is, are you in the same position of strength that you were in five years ago, and which you threw away so lamentably?
'As my son no doubt made clear to you, Ms. Lang, opportunity is a fickle friend.'
She is prepared for this assault. 'Lex should have known better. I can do everything I could do five years ago, and much, much more.'
Lionel is amused. And then, in an apparent non sequitur. 'His girlfriend, the good Ms. Lane, is interviewing me tomorrow. Young Kent will no doubt also be there.'
'She has worked long and hard to get this interview, unlike you, who I believe, just walked in and demanded my time. I wonder what made me see you?' He pauses to reflect. 'I must have been in an unusually good mood.'
She smiles sweetly—after all, flirtation is her forte. 'But then, I am not the big corporation slaying bitch am I? And you were curious why Lex went to see me.'
'I admire your forthrightness, amongst other things of course. I like you.' says Lionel, 'but business accepts terms, not fancies and impressions. Were we to come to an understanding, Ms. Lang, what would you want from me?
'Your son has made life... difficult for me. I would want you to back my play.'
'Against my own blood?' His tone is incredulous.
Lana barely bats her eyelashes at the rejoinder. He picks up his pen, signaling her dismissal. 'You will need to prove yourself, of course.'
She gathers her bag and walks around the imposing desk to where he sits. The deep pile of the carpet makes her a bit unsteady on her stilettos, but her poise is undiminished.
'You know that interview that is so important, the one that Clark really, really wanted?' she says, leaning into him, her voice dipping sensually ' He won't be here for it.' Then she turns and walks out the office, feeling his gaze on the sway of her hips.