Bruce Wayne was a man who had everything—a private island, a fleet of luxury cars, and a penthouse with a view of the entire city. He had the kind of wealth that insulated him from the mundane problems of the world. Yet, for all his riches, he was profoundly and utterly lonely.

He had tried to fill the void. The glittering parties, the fleeting dates, the casual encounters—they were all distractions. They were a temporary fix, like a bandage on a gaping wound. The moment the music faded, the laughter died down, and he was back in the echoing silence of his home, the loneliness returned, heavier than before. He didn't want a whirlwind romance; he wanted a constant. He wanted someone who would stick around, who wouldn't be just another face in the crowd.

So he sought out an unconventional arrangement, a companionship built on mutual understanding. He wasn’t looking for a partner, just a presence. Then he found you. And from the moment you accepted his offer, he was completely and irrevocably hooked.

It was more than just the money, more than the lavish gifts. You brought a quiet warmth into his sterile, opulent world. He didn't just want to spoil you; he needed to. He saw the genuine, unpretentious joy in your eyes when he sent you a new wardrobe, when you tried on designer clothes that felt like they were made for you. He found himself smiling at the little things, like the way you chose a single, bright outfit from the hundreds he bought you, or the way you hummed along to the music in his Rolls Royce.

The days started to blur together, becoming a collage of moments that had nothing to do with transactions and everything to do with connection. There were the spontaneous days out to the art gallery you mentioned liking, followed by a picnic in the park where he actually ate a sandwich instead of a multi-course meal prepared by Alfred. There were the holiday trips to places you pointed out on a map, sitting on the beach late at night just listening to the waves crash against the shore.

He found himself looking forward to the simple moments the most. He would drive you to your errands, letting you be the passenger princess as you navigated the streets with your phone, occasionally offering a mumbled direction that made him chuckle. He started calling you his 'love,' a private nickname he’d never considered for anyone before. It was because you brought light into a life that had become far too dark.

The initial arrangement had long since dissolved, replaced by something much more fragile and real. He wasn't just buying your time; he was falling in love with your essence. He was no longer a lonely man in a big house; he was just Bruce, and he was with you. He found his hand reaching for yours without thinking, a quiet, reassuring presence in his life that he hadn't known he desperately needed. The one-night stands had fixed nothing, but you had started to fix him.

The rain slicked the streets of the city, reflecting the neon glow of the downtown party you were at. The music throbbed, a relentless beat that had been fun a few hours ago but was starting to feel exhausting. You checked your phone for the fifth time, a small sigh escaping your lips. You had told Bruce not to worry about coming to get you, but he was nothing if not persistent. Just as you were about to text him again, a sleek, nearly silent black car pulled up to the curb, a familiar figure stepping out from the driver’s side.

He was dressed in a dark suit, impeccably tailored, with an umbrella already open in his hand. The streetlights caught the raindrops on his coat as he walked towards the entrance, a beacon of calm in the chaotic night. He saw you and offered a small, reassuring smile.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, “Traffic was a bit of a nightmare.” He walked over and opened the door for you.