Y/n Queen is the daughter of a billionaire, Caleb Queen, living on the outskirts of Gotham City. However, after befriending the Wayne family, they return to the center of the troublesome city. But their intentions weren't to expand their business wi...
"Now, Y/n," Mr. Queen says, "Remember what we talked about. I expect the best outcome for you. Do not fail me. Or you will regret it."
Despite being on the other side of the line, she could tell he was smirking. He refused to ride in the same car as Y/n. She wasn't complaining though. A few hours without her father's continues taunting? Hell yeah!
According to her father, they'd reside in Wayne Manor until he buys a mansion suitable for him and his daughter—giving her more time to lure the Wayne brat in.
From what she can gather, he's cold and cocky. But growing up with wealth that rivals the Queen family will do that to you. He can also be very flirtatious at times and girls throw themselves at him. They make him ought to be some type of god.
She rolls her eyes, "Great." She rests her chin in the palm of her hand, watching the street lights pass by in an instant. Then, suddenly, her phone vibrates.
She slides it out of her dress' pockets, inspecting the text message. A grin falls on her face.
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Cammy and she have been friends since the beginning. His mother worked in the circus and it became awkward when news broke out that she was pregnant with Mr. Queen's daughter. He sent someone anonymously to kill her, and not even Y/n's aware of who the killer is.
This is still one of the most unsolvable cases. This happened many years ago, and to this day, GCPD are still trying to figure out who the murderer is.
Y/n looks down at the leather fabric of her dress. It costed thousands, hand-sewn onto her body. Her father wanted it to be perfect, to hug her curves in every right way. And when he sets his mind to something, he achieves it. Needless to say, she looked gorgeous.
Her expensive heels clank against the pavement as she steps out into the cold, a breeze of fresh air filling her lungs. Y/n's luscious h/c hair bounces behind her as she walked to the entrance. Her Schaffer drives off.
"Name?" The man at the entrance asks sternly.
"Y/n Elvis Queen," as she said this, the man's face whitened. In front of him stood the daughter of one of the richest people in the world.
Just her voice managed to make him feel week.
"I-invitation and ID to v-verify your identity, p-please, Ms. Queen?"
She digs through her clutch, handing him her ID and invitation. He hands them back hastily, stepping out of her way.
Y/n's intelligent e/c eyes examine their surroundings. There was a diversity of people, she noted, from hundreds of different places.
But as she mindlessly walked through the party, everyone seemed to halt and look her way. Some women stared in envy while others complimented her. Some men would compare her to other women or just couldn't take their eyes off her.
And the Wayne brat just couldn't take his eyes off her.
He gently placed his cup down, shoving past all the girls trying to steal his attention. But his attention was set on her: the mysterious, beautiful stranger that entered the ballroom.
"Hello, Ms."
He had the kind of face that stopped you in your tracks. He must get used to that, the sudden pause in a person's natural expression when they looked his way followed by overcompensating with a nonchalant gaze and a weak smile. Of course, the blush that accompanied it was a dead give-away. It didn't help that he was so modest with it, it made the girls fall for him all the more.
He had tousled black hair, which was thick and lustrous. His eyes were a mesmerizing deep ocean blue, flecks of silvery light performed ballets throughout. His face was strong and defined, his features molded from granite. He also had dark eyebrows.
"May I get your name?" He asks awkwardly. She notices his discomfort.
Fuck, I was staring! She yells internally.
"My apologies sir," The redness of her cheeks faded as she holds out her hand for him. He takes it, pecking her knuckles with his thin lips, sending her heart aflutter. "What's your name, good sir?"
"Bruce Wayne, ma'am."
Her heart sank.
This is the man...
She needed to kill.
This man.
How could she kill someone so goddamn beautiful!?
"And yours?"
"You will know mine in time."
"Right then, I'll call you Mrs. Wayne for the time being."
That was smooth, she noted.
She hums in response, "Yes, I think I'd like that."
He blushes and grins like an idiot, something she found absolutely adorable.
"May I have this dance, Mrs. Wayne?"
"No, thank you," He releases her hand. He seemed really shocked.
That's it, Y/n, she told herself, play hard to get.
"What? And why not?" Bruce pouts. As much as she wanted that dance, she couldn't give it to him. She had to give him a challenge so he wouldn't get bored with her and throw her away like trash.
Y/n dismisses him with her hand and starts to walk away, "Because, that's why."
He watches in admiration as she sways her hips to the beat of the music, walking away.
