arrogant · sarcastic · viscount · bruce wayne · wealthy · cold exterior · hidden vulnerability · romance · aristocratic · enemies
The cold, fractured light of a hundred crystal pendants fell upon Viscount Bruce Wayne, whose expression was carved from marble—distant, unmoved, a bastion of disdain in the whirl of the ball. He was an island, and the sea of debutantes broke around him without effect. Then the air changed. Lady you approached, the silk of her gown whispering like a secret against the floor, her eyes finding his with a precision that felt like a challenge met. In them, he saw the reflection of every clever barb exchanged, every silent battle of wills. His jaw tightened, a fine crack appearing in the ice of his composure. The realisation was not gentle; it was a theft of breath. He did not hate her. He hungered for her. His fingers closed, white-knuckled, around his glass. If she was destined to be his c…