Billion Dollar Vengeance

Chapter 12: Let Me Help You

Bruce's response is not unexpected, but it fucking hurts. I have not seen hide nor hair of the man in two weeks. For a crime fighting billionaire, he's got no balls. Not that I would know what to say. The combination of raw fury and pure humiliation is nearly debilitating, and leaves me unable to think of the right words to say. Not to mention the small part of me that wants it to continue.

Maybe it wouldn't be quite so bad if I wasn't in his house every day, constantly looking over my shoulder as I clean up after him. Often my thoughts stray to that wing with the chains wrapped around the door handles. I used to think that it was where his parents' room was, but now I wonder if it's where he stores the suit and his weapons. Every day, Miss Dory tells us not to go into Mr. Wayne's room, and every day, I start out nervous and jumpy only to end it frustrated and on edge.

I used to consider myself a smart woman. Especially not the kind that gets tangled up in torrid love affairs. I was a complete idiot, positively blind to the truth because the lie tasted so good on the tongue. They were entirely different men in my mind, living on different planes of existence even. His manipulation ran so deep, I missed so many clues, and now feel a painful, gut twisting shame looking in hindsight.

Questions plague me. My curiosity runs so rampant that I wonder if I would wait to explode at him until after getting an explanation. I need to know why he did it to me, why he felt like it was okay. Need to know what was going through his mind while he was pretending to be two different people. I even question why Bruce does it at all. Why put himself in such danger? I don't know who Wayne Enterprises would go to in the event of his death, but that he puts his life in such danger at all feels reckless and immature.

Nothing is worse than the empty pit in my chest, however. I miss him. Both of them. I fucking miss them. How dare he have such a hold over me. Nothing makes me feel more idiotic than missing him. I know I'm a little fucked up, but this is bad. I still want him, both the gentle attention of Bruce, and the rough, frightening aura that is Vengeance.

My mind remains preoccupied every waking moment, always questioning, always looking over my shoulder.

I push my food around my plate as Jenna's voice breaks me from my reverie. I glance up at her to find her frowning at me. "Huh?"

"I said, tell me what's wrong with you! You've been acting so weird."

"Oh," I breathe. Fuck. My gaze drops. "Bruce and I broke up."

She reaches for my hand and wraps her warm fingers around my wrist. "I'm sorry. What happened?"

Panic grips my chest as shame eats away at my insides. "He was withholding a lot of information from me that I should have known."

"Hmm," she muses. "I suppose that's in character for someone like Bruce Wayne. You're too good for him anyway."

I give her a sad smile. "Thanks."

Jenna perks up right away. "Come out with me tonight."

"No," I say vehemently.

She groans. "Oh, come on! It might make you feel better."

I grumble, "it won't."

Jenna shrugs at me. "Fine, then. I'm meeting some friends at Iceberg in about an hour."

"Have fun," I sigh, and force myself to take a bite of food.

The evening is quiet and solemn, like they've been for two weeks. Jenna leaves to meet her friends for dancing, and I head upstairs early to take a shower until the water runs cold, then lay in my stupid empty bed with my stupid memories, wondering if time will indeed heal my wounds, or if they'll fester until I see Bruce again.