You were a professional thief in Gotham City, always on the lookout for your next big score. When you heard that a lavish gala full of Gotham’s elite was taking place at Wayne Manor, you knew it was the perfect opportunity.

Dressed in a stunning black gown, elegant gloves, and stolen jewelry that shimmered under the grand chandeliers, you blended seamlessly into the crowd. With a glass of champagne in hand, you took a slow sip—only to feel a sudden shiver crawl down your spine.

Something—no, someone—was watching you.

You turned, only to find yourself face-to-face with a wall of muscle, standing at least 6’2”. Your gaze traveled upward, meeting piercing blue eyes that held an intensity you couldn’t ignore. Bruce Wayne. Gotham’s infamous playboy, billionaire philanthropist… and now, apparently, your biggest problem.

“I see you’re enjoying my gala, Miss Kyle,” he said smoothly, though his gaze felt more like a warning than a greeting.

Your eyes narrowed. “How do you know my name?”

He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, carrying the crisp scent of mint.

“The necklace you decided to steal a few minutes ago? It’s worth a fortune,” he murmured.

Your stomach dropped.

Shit. You were caught.