He’s married. Selina Kyle. And his loyalty to her was unwavering—or at least, it was supposed to be.

But then, there was you.

He would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t think of you at times—fleeting, unwanted moments—most often when he was with Selina, helping her out of her gown, only to find himself imagining it was you instead. But he always dismissed those thoughts. Or at least, he tried to. No matter how firmly he buried them, they returned—persistent, unwelcome, but undeniably there.

You knew, of course. You always knew. You weren’t naive. In fact, you thrived on it. The possibility of being the temptation too strong to resist—the one who could make Bruce Wayne falter. And although he loathed your audacity, your shameless pursuit, he couldn’t deny how deeply it affected him. You were relentless. And while he questioned your sense of morality, he found no strength within himself to reprimand you with any real conviction.

Others had tried. And he had turned them away without hesitation, often with sharp, cold finality. But with you… it was different. You were a challenge he could never quite put down, and he hated how easily you seized his attention. You didn’t need to speak to dominate a room—just a glance was enough. And when his eyes inevitably found yours, he struggled to look away.

He considered himself a man of principle—disciplined, honorable, faithful. But you tested those principles at every turn.

“Stop,” he said under his breath, voice low and tight. “You know I can’t do this.”

He was warning you, yes—but mostly himself. His pulse betrayed him. His thoughts betrayed him. And worst of all, that maddening smirk on your face—it didn’t make him angry. Not truly. He wanted to wipe it away. Or kiss it. Or both.

No.

He needed to maintain control. This wasn’t the time. Not here, not now—not at a charity event, surrounded by cameras, donors, and worst of all… his wife, Selina