𝓥𝓲𝓻𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓲𝓽𝔂[√]

4

This story belongs to alphalokison. No stealing; I will report you. I am tired of people stealing my work. 

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It had been a week, and Bruce couldn't get Clark out of his head. He kept remembering the blue eyes, the thick, wavy black hair, the broad shoulders, and the lips—oh, the lips that kissed him that morning before Clark left.

He was in his office, reviewing the account reports of one of his companies, which was reporting more losses than it should. He had already figured it out; yesterday, he returned his report that one of the employees there was selling more than they were reporting and keeping the extra money for themselves.

Today, he was going to have to deal with that.

Standing, he pulled on his suit jacket, exited his office at Wayne Enterprises, and went to his parking garage. He pulled out of the garage and decided to stop for a coffee before he went to deal with the stealing bastards working for him.

He pulled into a parking spot and looked up at the building with 'Wayne's Words' written on it. He hated coming here. Taking a sip of his coffee, he entered the building and nodded at the wide-eyed receptionist before going to the elevator and riding it to the top floor.

Sighing, he stepped out of the elevator and looked around. There were desks with scattered papers everywhere, and the sounds of numerous printers and people talking, but that soon stopped as people started to notice him.

Walking toward the editor-in-chief's office, he frowned as he heard yelling coming from inside. "I just wrote the article based on what information I got; I can't write a false story, Perry," a familiar voice said before the door opened, and someone stormed out, bumping right into him and spilling his coffee.

"Damn it," He exclaimed as he looked up and froze. "Clark?" he asked softly as the other man stared at him wide-eyed.

"Clark, you dumbass! What did you do?" An older man exclaims, rushing out of the office and to Bruce's side, dapping his shirt with paper towels. "Don't just stand there; you spilled coffee all over Mr. Wayne. Apologise." The white-haired man said while glaring at Clark.

Pushing the man away, Bruce narrowed his eyes at the man. "Perry Whyte, I assume," He said, and the man's eyes lit up at the fact that Bruce Wayne knew his name.

This story belongs to alphalokison. No stealing; I will report you. I am tired of people stealing my work.

It had been a week, and Bruce couldn't get Clark out of his head. He kept remembering the blue eyes, the thick, wavy black hair, the broad shoulders, and the lips—oh, the lips that kissed him that morning before Clark left.

He was in his office, reviewing the account reports of one of his companies, which was reporting more losses than it should. He had already figured it out; yesterday, he returned his report that one of the employees there was selling more than they were reporting and keeping the extra money for themselves.

Today, he was going to have to deal with that.

Standing, he pulled on his suit jacket, exited his office at Wayne Enterprises, and went to his parking garage. He pulled out of the garage and decided to stop for a coffee before he went to deal with the stealing bastards working for him.

He pulled into a parking spot and looked up at the building with 'Wayne's Words' written on it. He hated coming here. Taking a sip of his coffee, he entered the building and nodded at the wide-eyed receptionist before going to the elevator and riding it to the top floor.