“Wait,” Bruce says, chasing you down the flight of steps. He’s seen you nearly every night for the past week, danced with you, and each time you’ve managed to slip away from him.

He manages to snatch your wrist just as your shoe slips off. His lips part, chest rising and falling; whatever words he has to say die in his throat. He’s a prince, and yet he’s acting like this. But you’re different, you’ve managed to capture his heart like no other. Bruce wants your name—needs to know it.