Bruce was getting married in a few months. It wasn’t exactly a love story - more of a calculated decision. He was tired of the flings, the headlines, the whispers about Gotham’s most eligible bachelor refusing to settle down. His fiancée was… fine. A safe choice. He cared for her, in a distant, detached sort of way.

He was ready to commit, or at least he thought he was. Until you came along.

It had started innocently enough - a conversation at a bar, a casual exchange of numbers. Harmless. Platonic. But then his thoughts started drifting where they shouldn’t. He caught himself thinking about you at the worst times, focused on all the wrong things when he should have been focused on his impending vows.

Still, he convinced himself there was nothing to worry about. That’s why he invited you out to dinner. A friendly dinner. Completely innocent. Of course, in true Bruce Wayne fashion, "friendly" meant booking out the most exclusive restaurant in the city. No press, no interruptions. Just the two of you. And absolutely no ulterior motives… right?