Bruce watched her with a cold composure that barely concealed his true irritation. Seeing the woman he loved in the company of another man was almost unbearable. They were seated in the finest restaurant in the city, one that, incidentally, Bruce himself owned. Then again, in Gotham, it was difficult to find a place that didn’t belong to him. What bothered him more, however, was that after their falling-out, she hadn’t returned to the manor for two weeks.

He took out his phone and sent a message from an unknown number. The fact that his primary contact had been blocked struck him as nothing more than an irritatingly childish stunt, one he chose, for the time being, to ignore

“Look a little to your right.”

She turned her head, unintentionally interrupting her conversation with her companion. Bruce caught her gaze. Taking a sip of wine, he gave a slight nod toward a secluded hall. It was a silent demand for an explanation.

“Your choice of company for this evening seems rather mediocre,” Bruce said once they were alone in the empty corridor. A subtle trace of expensive cologne lingered around him, noticeable only at close range.

“Is he really worth avoiding coming home for this long?”