The Struggle {ON PERMANENT HIATUS}

Chapter Two 'I'm Not Allowed Cats In The Apartment.'

Walking into the conference room at Wayne Towers wasn’t the best part of my day on any day, but when I walked in there Wednesday afternoon, feeling really zen after a deep tissue massage, I should have been prepared for my state of bliss to be destroyed in an instant.

And there he sat, right at the end of the table, the destroyer of inner peace.

“Good afternoon, Miss Dawn.” Wayne greeted me. 

I narrowed my eyes at him. He was sitting in Lucius’ seat, meaning I would have to sit next to him. I bit my bottom lip, as I looked at him in confusion.

“What are we doing for you today, Mr Wayne?” I asked, reluctantly walking to my seat, sipping my Starbuck’s coffee like it would save me from this annoying encounter. I sat down, dropping my bag on the ground next to me, and leaning back in my chair, almost squirming under Bruce’s close inspection. His eyes took in my low cut pink bandage dress, showing clearly as I hadn’t buttoned my blazer, and a smirk spread across his face when I caught him checking me out, and my reddened cheeks. It was hard not to blush, the man looked like a God in a suit.

“Just thought I’d let the board know that the charity benefit for the Gotham Orphanage for Boys was successful, especially with the very large donation from its newest member.” He smiled at me. 

Damn he had a great smile. And those eyes. So blue.

“Anything for a great cause, Mr Wayne,“ I replied, tearing my eyes off of him, as I noticed that he was ignoring the rest of the board. “Since you’re here, I’ve been looking over the stock reports, and Wayne Enterprises stock is rising steadily, which means you’re making more money.”

“Did you find a solution to that stock holder issue?” One of the other board members asked me.

“Of course, Mr Evans. I took the client out to lunch, and we resolved the issue like mature adults. Mr Jones is now talking to his accountant, and buying more stock, and dropping the complaint.” I smiled, mentally doing a victory dance.

“I told you that she wasn’t just a pretty face.” Lucius said, grinning across the table from me. 

“But it is a pretty face.”

“A pretty professional face, Mr Wayne,” I retorted, rolling my eyes at his ‘compliment’. “Why don’t we stick to talking business? While Mr Jones is now a fully satisfied stock holder, I’ve heard other complaints from other stock holders, who aren’t satisfied with stock rising steadily. They want it to soar. So we’ve got to make our stock more desirable to potential buyers in order to keep our current stock holders happy.”

“Why don’t you just go to the stock room and start selling it?” Bruce grinned at me. “I’m sure we’ll have men flocking in to buy stock.” 

“Now I see why every other member of the board are male. Intelligent women must get tired of being hit on by you, Mr Wayne.” I retort, rolling my eyes. I start fiddling with the gold ring on my index finger, twirling it around, so I didn’t have to look at Wayne.