Billion Dollar Vengeance

Chapter 8: What Do You Want

Carly stares at me with incredulity when I pick her up. My face remains hot the whole time. And it isn't until both girls are in the van that Carly breaks the silence.

"Were you ever going to tell us?"

I don't turn to look at them. I can't. Those nasty things said about me run through my mind. What can I say? They saw what people think I am. They know how truthful it is.

Stella groans. "Are we gonna lose our jobs, or what?!"

I let out a held breath. "Definitely not. We'll have our jobs no matter what."

Carly stares at me. "No matter what? Are you sleeping with him?"

"I..." my whole body flushes with embarrassment. "It's complicated. He asked me to that function because he needed someone to go with."

"And he didn't expect to actually like you." Carly laughs.

Stella slaps her on the arm. "I'm sure it was the other way around."

Unexpected. That's certainly the right adjective. "It was just one date. That's all."

That text also runs through my mind. My tone stops the girls from prying, but I see Carly looking at me out of the corner of her eye. I try to push the thoughts away and arrange my face on the ride to Wayne manor. It's one thing for them to see me flustered, but I won't let him see me like this. Fumbling and embarrassed. He doesn't deserve it.

I don't see Bruce though. And I can't decide if it's a good thing or a bad thing. It gives me more time to brood, but on the other hand, I think a bit of distance from the man will help silence my more primal urges. And to my immense relief, he isn't even in the house. Miss Dory asks to have his room cleaned. I'm spared from looking over my shoulder every five minutes.

I really try not to pry when I'm in his room. I avoid looking at his bed entirely. That gothic four poster can be dusted some other time. But there's so much paperwork on his desk I have to clean around. My eyes pop open and my jaw drops when I see a medical form laying discarded on the floor. He got an STD screening. My cheeks heat, and though it feels like a violation of privacy, I glance down at the test results. It has a little to do with me after all. He's clean, of course, as I suspected. And the date of service was after we met, but before we had sex.

"So responsible," I mutter.

But it also makes me smile. He knew after that first day that I would want him. And he wanted me. My frustration dissipates just a little as I dust the furniture in the front room. And then it comes back when I have to scrub his toilet. It's not particularly dirty, but just the act of cleaning the place he shits while he's out having board meetings or flying in a helicopter or something, sits like a stone in my throat. It didn't bother me to clean in front of him previously, but that was before the rest of Gotham decided who I was. And they were partially right, I think, which stings badly.

What also stings is his lack of contact. He hasn't even sent a text since saying you'll get used to it. I rub my neck unconsciously with the scraped palm of my hand where the hickeys are under my shirt. I've really gotten myself into some shit, letting two men under my skin. Two men with whom I can't be in real relationships with.

The mere idea of calling Ven my boyfriend has me laughing, and the same idea with Bruce has me frowning. Then again, maybe I can get everything I need between the two of them. Bruce is careful and attentive. And I know if I asked, he'd give me just about anything. And Ven is wild and exciting. And even though I have a hunch that I'd only be able to see him at night, I bet he could take me places Bruce can't. It might be strange for him to walk into a store with his armor on, but I wonder if he would if I ever asked. And I kind of like the idea of him never taking it off. Of the intimate anonymity between us.