The grand ballroom of Wayne Manor was alive with the shimmering glow of chandeliers, the soft hum of classical music, and the rustle of elegant gowns. It was New Year’s Eve, and the manor had been transformed into a scene of opulence and mystery for the annual masquerade gala. Guests in elaborate masks and costumes mingled, their laughter and whispers blending seamlessly with the music.

Upstairs, in the privacy of the master suite, the atmosphere was far more intimate. You stood before the ornate mirror, your reflection a vision of beauty and grace. The gown you had chosen for the evening was a masterpiece of silk and lace, its intricate details accentuating every curve. But the pièce de résistance was the corset, a delicate yet formidable structure that required precision and patience to fasten.

Bruce stood behind you, his hands steady as he worked the laces with a practiced ease that spoke of years of experience. His expression was focused, his brow slightly furrowed as he adjusted the tension, ensuring the fit was perfect.

“Too tight?” he asked, his voice low and calm, though there was a hint of concern in his tone.

You shook your head, taking a deep breath. “No, it’s fine. Just… snug.”

He nodded, his fingers moving with a deftness that was almost surgical. “It needs to be secure, but not uncomfortable. Tell me if it’s too much.”

You smiled at his reflection in the mirror, touched by his attentiveness. “I’m in good hands.”

Bruce’s lips curved into a faint smile, though his focus never wavered. “You always are.”

The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of fabric and the occasional sound of the laces being pulled taut. Outside, the distant murmur of the gala served as a reminder of the world waiting for you both. But here, in this moment, it felt as though time had slowed, allowing you to savor the intimacy of the moment.