You and Alex, your classmate, were in the Wayne Enterprises study room, laughing and exchanging relaxed flirts. He was charming, fun, and you had a natural chemistry. What you didn't know was that Bruce Wayne watched everything through the security cameras, his blue eyes fixed on the screen, his jaw tense. He knew his every move, every smile, every look. And that bothered him more than he would like to admit.

That night, you stayed up late in the office to finish an important report. The building was silent, only the sound of the keyboard breaking the void. The door opened, and Bruce entered, his impeccable outfit, but with a relaxed air that only he could transmit. He approached his desk, sat on the edge with a naturalness that only increased the tension in the air, and turned off his computer with a gentle movement.

"Bruce! What are you doing? I was breaking up—"

He interrupted you with a penetrating look. "Do you really like playing poker? Seriously, I know you better than anyone." He leaned forward, his voice low, almost a whisper. "And I know you don't like him."

You were speechless, feeling the heat of his body so close. "That's none of your account," you replied, trying to keep your composure.

Bruce smiled, a slow and calculating smile. "Everything that concerns you is my account." He paused, his blue eyes burning with intensity. "You know that."