My Story of Vengeance

Chapter Twenty

"There! All done." I tell Alfred, placing the pan with the roasted chicken on the counter. Alfred finishes mixing the caeser salad he made for dinner and looks over at me with a smile.
     "Wonderful. It smells delicious Wren." He says. He picks up the bowl of salad and walks it out to the dining room table. I grab a serving plate from the cabinet next to the oven and place it on the counter. I use utensils to lift the chicken out of the pan and onto the platter. I pick up the platter and take it to the dining room. As I walk through the doorway, I collide with something.
     "Oh shit!" I curse. I try to keep hold of the platter, but I lose my grip on it. It starts to fall to the floor until Bruce catches it. His free hand catches my arm to keep me from falling down. He lifts the platter to waist level, the chicken saved. I let out a sigh of relief.
     "Oh, thank God. Thank you for catching that." I tell him.
     "No worries." He says. "Glad I caught both of you." I look up at him as he looks down at me. We stand there, looking at one another for a few seconds before I look away. I reach for the platter but Bruce pulls it away from me.
     "I got it." He starts walking to the table, his hand dropping my arm. The spot he was holding feels a bit cold without his hand there. A shiver goes through me as I walk to the table. Alfred pours water into our glasses before setting down the pitcher. He takes his seat as Bruce also sits down. I take my seat and we start to serve ourselves.
     I sit there in silence as I eat while Alfred and Bruce discuss work matters. My thoughts going a mile a minute. The tension between me and Bruce, the irritating passion between me and Batman, the worry of being hunted and killed, the wanting to know why of everything; all of it consumes my thoughts. My emotions run wild, but I don't dare to show it. What good would come from me showing how I'm not okay? Instead, I keep a soft smile on my face as I stare at my fork.
     "Wren?" I hear Alfred's voice call. I look up and find both men looking at me.
     "Yes?" I ask.
     "Did you hear what I asked?" Bruce asks, a slightly annoyance in his tone. I scoff inside my head but shake it on the outside.
     "No, sorry. What was it?"
     "I said that I have a meeting to go to on Thursday. I will need you to attend it with me and record everything. It will be at 9:30 in the morning." He states. I nod my head.
     "I will be up and ready to go by 9." I say, stabbing a piece of chicken with my fork. Alfred looks at me with a hint of concern, but continues eating himself. Bruce keeps his gaze on his plate as he eats another bite. I finish my food and stand up, taking my plate to the kitchen. I place it in the sink gently and lean against it, my head low.
     "God I could use a drink." I say out loud.
     "I have a decent whiskey upstairs in my study if you'd like to join me?" I hear Bruce ask behind me. I turn around to face him.
     "Honestly, I would very much like to." I tell him. He nods once before walking out of the kitchen and into the dining room. He comes back a few seconds later before gesturing for me to follow him down the hall. I follow him up the stairs and down the hall to his study. He holds the door open for me to enter then shuts it behind me. I look around the room and stop in the middle. The walls are lined with bookcases that are filled with books. A couch and two chairs sit in the center of the room, a coffee table in the middle. I've been in here a few times to clean, but I've never really looked around. Alfred told me that Bruce didn't really want me in here much so he often cleaned it instead.
I walk over to one of the bookcases and let my gaze go through the books, stopping on one in particular. I look over at Bruce, who is in the corner pouring us drinks. I look back at the book and pull it off the shelf. I dust off the cover and read it. 'To Kill a Mockingbird', one of my favorites.
"Interesting pick." Bruce says as he walks towards me, handing me a glass of whiskey. I take the cup and sip on it. The warm liquor pours down my throat smoothly, making my insides heat it. I keep the cup next to my face as I look down at the book.
"It's one of my favorites. My mother read it to me when I was younger." I say, as memories of her run through my mind. Pain starts to enter my body as I think on how those memories could be completely fake. 'What if none of it was real?' I put the book back and finish the glass in one gulp, my cheeks warming from it. I hand Bruce my glass.
"More please." I say. He gives me a look of slight concern and...irritation? He takes my glass and goes back to the cart to pour me another. He comes back and hands it to me. I take it and take another big gulp, swallowing a lot of it at once. My body feels fuzzy and warm from the whiskey. I let out a sigh and walk over to the couch, taking a seat. Bruce follows but sits in one of the chairs across from me. I lift my legs up and sit cross-crossed, sipping on my drink again. Bruce leans back in the chair, his legs wide, his head leaning on one hand as the other hand holds his glass.
I take another sip and glance at Bruce over the glass. Today he's wearing black jeans and a dark grey long-sleeve shirt. The sleeves are pushed up on his forearms slightly, showing his muscles and veins. His hair is left messy, and his eyes are dark and broody as he stares off. My cheeks flush as my eyes roam down his body. 'Damn, he's good looking.' I think to myself. My eyes linger on his crotch as I bite my lip, imagining things I probably shouldn't have my boss.
"Wren." Bruce says.
"Yes?" My eyes shoot up to his face. His eyes automatically meet mine, making my breath catch in my throat. His finger taps his glass as he continues looking at me. I notice his gaze slip a bit lower on my body before quickly coming back to my eyes. He raises his glass to his lips and takes a sip before speaking.
"What's on your mind?" He asks me. I finish my glass in one final sip, setting it down on the coffee table after.
"I guess you could say too much." I say, giving him a half-hearted smile.
"Hm." He takes another sip then leans forward in the chair, places his elbows on his knees. He places his now empty glass on the coffee table and looks down at his hands.
"Would you mind sharing some of your thoughts?" He asks, looking up at me. The light glints in his eyes as he looks at me, making them look a tad brighter and innocent. I bite my lip before letting out a sigh.
"Well, it's mainly just...everything that's going on." I tell him. "Finding out that my life has basically been a lie, that my parents aren't who I thought they were, that they were possibly murdered, not killed be accident, and that I am being hunted for some reason, it's just...making me stress. A lot." I say, fiddling with my necklace. He nods, as if in understanding.
"That is more than enough reason for anyone to stress." He says, standing up. He walks over to the cart and grabs the bottle of whiskey. He brings it over to the coffee table and pours us both another drink. He slides my glass over towards me before taking his own and sitting back down. I gladly lean forward and pick up my glass, taking a sip. I let out a sigh and rotate the glass in my fingers.
"I've just been...I don't know, very stressed and frustrated in every way possible." I say. He looks over his glass at me as he takes a sip of his whiskey. He lowers it and holds it in his hands in his lap.
"I see. Is there anything I could do to help?" He asks me.
"Well, not really. I mean, you can let me drink your whiskey." I say, smiling sarcastically as I take down the rest of my glass. I'm not typically one to drink, so I start to feel a buzz from the liquor. My whole body feels warm, and my inhibitions being to lower. I hold my glass out for more. He looks at me with dark eyes, as if he's annoyed or irritated by me. I scoff and roll my eyes. I lean forward and grab the whiskey bottle. I take a swig from the bottle itself, starting to feel the alcohol hit even more. My whole body feels excited, needy. Bruce stands up and reaches for the bottle. I quickly move it behind me out of his reach.
"Wren, give me the bottle." He says, holding his hand out. I shake my head.
"No, let me have this." I say, taking another sip. He reaches for it again and I move it away from him, hiding it behind my back.
"Wren I'm not kidding. You've had enough." He says, his voice full of annoyance and slight anger. I shake my head.
"I'm just getting started." I tell him. He takes a few more steps towards me, stopping at the edge of the couch. He leans down, his face inches from mine. My heart starts to race from him being this close. My eyes widen slightly as he gets closer. He stares into my eyes as he places a hand on the arm of the couch, and the other on the back of the couch, closing me in. My breathing starts to quicken. He looks at me with his dark eyes, making me fall into them. He leans further in, moving his mouth next to my ear. He's so close to me I can smell the laundry detergent we use for his clothes and feel his breath on my neck. It sends shivers down my spine.
"Don't be dumb, Wren." He whispers in my ear before grabbing the bottle from behind my back. I gasp as he pulls away, taking the bottle with him. I sit there, dumbfounded, for what feels like 5 minutes before I register what happened. I quickly jump up.
"What the hell was that for?" I ask, irritated. He gives me a soft smirk before backing away.
"The last thing you should do is drink this much right now." He tells me, putting it back on the cart. I let out a frustrated groan, snapping.
"Why can't you just let me have this? I am annoyed, I am angry, I am so, so frustrated. I haven't been able to sleep well, I am barely able to go about my daily life without wanting to just leave and never come back to this God awful city. The only reason I'm still here is because I have no where to go. I have no one to take with me or who'd want to go with me. I don't have a boyfriend, I am so sexually frustrated, which you are not helping with! So let me drink myself to sleep, for the love of God!" I rant. Bruce stares at me, his face emotionless.
My hand flies to my mouth as I realized what I just said. 'Holy shit, I just told my boss I'm sexually frustrated. What the hell is wrong with me?!' I yell at myself. Bruce keeps his eyes on me as I blush hard, embarrassed. Silence fills the study, making this situation even worse for me. He breaks his gaze to look down at the whiskey bottle in his hand still. He grips it and walks towards me. My heart beats faster as he gets closer. 'Oh God, what's he going to do? Or say? Oh God, I just want to go home now.' My body starts to feel jittery from anxiety. He stops a few inches from me, looking down at me. My hand is lightly touching my mouth, my fingers hovering over my lips as I wait for what he does or says.
After getting this close, I see his eyes are dark and full of...desire? 'No, that can't be right...can it?' We keep our eyes locked on each other's. I barely move a muscle, barely breathe, as I wait for a reaction from him. His gaze drops to my lips and lingers for a few seconds before it meets my eyes again. A slightly smirk forms at the corner of his mouth as he lets out a deep chuckle. He lifts the bottle of whiskey to his own lips as he takes a swig before he moves it towards me. He leans the top of the bottle against my chest, holding it there.
"Better take another sip then, huh?" He says, before leaning in closer. "We're just getting started." He tells me, his voice deep and full of lust.
'Oh dear God, what did I get myself into?'