Murder at Wayne Manor

Chapter 3

Gotham; April 15th, 08:16 EST

"Stop fidgeting."

"I'm not fidgeting," Diana retorts with a haughty air.

"You're fidgeting," I insist, glancing away from my cell phone to watch how she continually tugs and plays with the hem of her navy blue skirt. "Stop it."

She shoots me a glare, warning me that I had better not push her, but it's Diana and I can never resist riling her up. I can't help myself when it comes to her, so I reach over and place my hand over hers to still the fidgeting that she swears she's not doing.

She looks down at my hand covering hers on her thigh and I swear her face turns a faint shade of pink as she looks up at me with a questioning gaze with hints of annoyance. Those black wire-rim glasses can't detract from those bright blue eyes or the emotion that constantly swims there at any given moment and I wonder if maybe we should have tried green contacts instead.

"You have no need to be nervous, Princess," I remind her as I continue to check my messages on my phone. "You'll be just fine."

Diana looks away from me to stare out the window of the limo, her hand shifting beneath mine to interlock our fingers before I can pull my hand away and it suddenly feels as though all the air has been sucked from my lungs. All I know in that moment is the feel of her hand in mine, the velvet softness of her skin and her scent that makes me lightheaded despite my best efforts not to notice it.

"I'm not nervous," she denies with an edge to her voice, but I can tell that she's definitely worried about something.

I slip my cell phone into my suit jacket before turning towards her, giving her my full attention. "Diana, what's wrong?" I ask as I carefully pull my hand free in an effort to put a little distance between us.

"Are you sure I look all right?" she asks me.

"You look fine," I tell her, confused by her question.

She is dressed in a tailored navy blue suit jacket with a skirt ending above her knees. Navy blue heels adorn her feet and her hair is pulled into a simple updo. The glasses she wears help to shield her identity, but just barely. She doesn't just look fine, she looks beautiful, but I can't tell her that.

"I just don't want anyone to recognize me," she replies.

"No one is going to recognize you," I reassure her. I can tell there's much more to it than what she is telling me, so I press further. "Now, tell me what's really bothering you."

She draws a deep breath before finally turning back to face me and I'm immediately struck by the uncertainty that clouds her eyes. It's a little disconcerting to see the always-confident and in control Amazon princess like this. It's not something that she normally reveals, a side of herself that she keeps well-hidden and I'm humbled that she's allowing me to see her like this.

"I'm worried that I'm going to let you down," she admits in a voice I barely recognize as hers.

She begins to fiddle with the hem of her skirt again, averting her eyes in embarrassment with her confession. My fingers twitch, wanting to take her hand in mine again, but I clasp my hands together and lay them in my lap to quell the urge.

"Diana, there is absolutely nothing you could ever do to disappoint me," I quickly attempt to reassure her, puzzled as to where this is all coming from. "What makes you even think that?"

"Bruce, this is your city that you have fought so hard and so long to save," she begins, pausing for a moment as if to gather her thoughts before she continues. "I know how much Gotham means to you, how fiercely protective you are of it. You have made it very clear that you don't want metas in your city and yet you're allowing me to work on this anti-drug coalition for you. I don't take that responsibility lightly or what it means for you to let me to do this."