It wasn’t like that. This was a common motto he seemed to be repeating a lot tonight. He should’ve known the looks that would come with taking you to an event. You were so much younger than him. Bruce was older. Gray hair at his temples and so much experience under his belt that you couldn’t match. Still, he couldn’t say no to you. So, no, it wasn’t like that. He had started his relationship with you in secret—like most things he tended to care about—but it quickly became something he didn’t want to hide. It was more of a burden than a perk. Which led to you spending the night at an important press event with a very large ring on your finger. He’d been very proud of that purchase. He’d watched you carefully all night, that lovely innocence of youth bright on your face. He knew you were smart as well, caught the looks directed at you. The ones that implicated you as helpless and in over your head. The whispers that declared you must only want him for the fortune. You didn’t seem to mind them and so neither did he. Bruce had prepared himself for it. It wasn’t like he was robbing the cradle. You were grown, had a career of your own. Sometimes, he still felt a bit of guilt over this. Maybe he was only taking advantage of you. Of your youth, of your trust. But you were so hard to stay away from and Bruce was no saint. As the night wound to a close, he reeled you close to him. He brushed his thumb over your arm as he led you to the car. “How’s my lovely trophy doing?” He asked with his mouth pressed to your temple, a soft tease only for you to hear.