#chrex

The ringing of his phone shattered the quiet of the study. Reluctantly, he reached for it, already knowing who it would be. No one else had the audacity to call him at this hour, much less the gall to expect a response. ‟Dad,” Lex answered, his voice smooth but laced with ice. ‟Lex, I trust I'm not disturbing you.” Lionel's deep, authoritative tone carried through the receiver, every syllable weighted with both amusement and menace. ‟You usually reserve your calls for when you're about to ruin my day. Why break with the tradition now?” Lionel chuckled softly. ‟You wound me, son. I merely wanted to discuss some pressing matters regarding your… overtures.” ‟LexCorp is none of your concern,” Lex said sharply, sitting upright. ‟Unless, of course, you're planning to sabotage me from the shadows again — in which case, we're right on schedule.” ‟Oh, Lex, always so paranoid. If your business overtures are faltering, perhaps you should look inward rather than casting blame outward.”

‟I suppose congratulations are in order,” she suddenly said, causing him to blink. It seemed like only yesterday that he had said the same thing to her on her birthday, but that had been weeks ago — and yet, the memory of that evening still lingered. ‟Or, maybe condolences… It's difficult to keep track of this, uh, whirlwind romance.” He stilled for a second. Of course, she must have read the headlines. They had been everywhere. Not just the gossip rags and local newspapers, but the major ones. He gave her an amused shrug, ready for another round of verbal ping-pong. ‟Hey, I always did have a talent for hasty, nearly fatal decisions.” But instead of a quick-witted retort, she kept looking at him — with that unsettling stare she reserved for people she considered hopeless cases. The same look she had given him the first time they met. But they were past that, weren't they? ‟I would've sent a wedding gift, but by the time I heard about the nuptials, the shops had closed — and by the time they reopened, the marriage had already been annulled.” She clicked her tongue and shrugged her shoulders, her tone exaggeratedly light. Lex shifted in his chair and adjusted his cuffs, glancing around the room. That was one way to describe the brief disaster he called a marriage. ‟So, you, uh, heard about it, then.” He instantly felt like an idiot for saying it. ‟Metropolis has newspapers. And internet access. Also, people talk — a lot.”

‟I'm sorry, Mr. Luthor,” Pontius said, handing him a folder. ‟Those German privacy laws are ironclad.” ‟That's it? That's your opening?” Lex raised a brow when Pontius took the seat across from him. Pontius didn't reply at once since a waitress approached them, and he ordered a cappuccino. Once she left, he looked back at Lex. ‟I know you expect perfection,” Pontius said, unbothered. ‟But this one was particularly difficult.” He gestured toward the folder, which Lex hadn't opened yet. ‟German data protection laws are on another level,” he said, rolling his eyes. ‟They don't even have voter registration records.” Lex smirked. ‟Well, they don't have to register to vote to begin with. But I wasn't interested in Ms. Harris' voting history.” Pontius raised his hands and was about to say something when the waitress reappeared with his cappuccino. She handed him an extra napkin that looked suspiciously like she had scribbled down her cell phone number. Lex didn't bother hiding his eye roll. ‟I don't pay you to flirt,” he snapped. ‟My apologies, that comes naturally,” Pontius replied with a smirk, letting the napkin slip into his pocket. ‟Anyway, I was able to track down the information you wanted. Her father's military clearance opened a few doors. Otherwise, I'd have hit a brick wall…” He trailed off and sipped at his coffee while Lex flipped through the folder.

Barbari's smirk deepened, and he perched on the edge of one of the leather visitor chairs, adjusting his cuff links. A silver watch glinted on his wrist. Chris was pretty sure it was one by Vacheron Constantin. She had seen a similar model on her grandfather's wrist, and she knew these watches were worth half a fortune. ‟Sharp as ever, Ms. Harris. Mr. Crupi values your discretion and your… unique approach to the law. He wanted me to personally ensure you're comfortable handling this expansion. It's a significant investment, and he doesn't like surprises.” ‟Neither do I,” she replied smoothly, forcing herself not to glance at her computer. ‟I'll need some additional details — profit projections, regional compliance requirements. And, as always, I keep my distance from anything that falls outside corporate law. And with distance, I mean the Milky Way, at least. You understand?” Barbari chuckled softly. ‟Crystal clear. That's why he trusts you.” He gestured around the room, his gaze lingering on a rubber duck that resembled the Queen. Chris had spotted it at Heathrow Airport when she was on her way back home from Germany, and there had been no way not to buy it. ‟You've got an… interesting setup here.” His tone was somewhere between admiration and disbelief.