Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own anything related to Batman or the universe(s) he is in. They belong to other, far richer people than me.
AN: I hope that everyone enjoys the chapter, and will review. Thanks!
Chapter 3: A Public Face:
The sounds of a bustling library were music to her ears: softly spoken words, the quiet giggles of children, the occasional squeak of a roller chair or ladder, and the whisper of cloth as someone rose from their chairs to head elsewhere. This quiet symphony was only disrupted by the occasional dropped book or someone telling another person to 'shush.' Amara smiled and sat back in her chair, savoring it all.
Life as the new Mrs. Wayne was a complete turnaround from the way she'd been living before. Of course, Amara thought that the biggest change would be living in a mansion instead of a penthouse. She was wrong. Everything was a lot more complicated now that she was part of Bruce's upper-class society, and it took a lot of getting used to.
Not that it was all bad, of course. She did live in an incredibly huge, richly decorated mansion, and although she loved the place, Amara couldn't imagine how Bruce's late mother had managed to live there without getting bored and lonely. However, Alfred did explain that Martha Wayne had had a housekeeper and a few maids around constantly, so she probably didn't get too lonely. Plus, Thomas Wayne had been a doctor, so he'd also been home whenever possible, and there had Bruce to look after, so perhaps things hadn't been so bad back then.
In this day and age, however, Amara was anything but the traditional stay-at-home housewife that Martha Wayne had been. She wanted a life outside of Wayne Manor, and since she and Bruce had no children (yet), there was only one thing that kept her going, and that was the public library.
"Mrs. Wayne, would you mind going over this list of books for purchasing and telling me if you disagree with them?"
Happy to oblige, Amara took the clipboard and scanned it over with her eyes. Most were children's books, with the odd exception of a teenage or adult novel, but they were alright. She squiggled her initials at the bottom and nodded her head in approval, earning a smile from the new volunteer before the young man scurried into the back room.
Sighing, Amara looked around the library in longing. She was no longer allowed to sit at the central desk full-time; now she was just a volunteer, though all the employees treated her as though she were royalty. It was easy to see why the board of directors had decided it would be best to let her go as a paid employee.
"You are married to the chief benefactor of the library," Mrs. Wilson had gently informed her. "This produces a conflict of interest for everyone. As the wife of Bruce Wayne, it puts you at a distinct advantage over the others, and therefore, we cannot keep you on as paid personnel."
Actually, they meant that if Amara wanted to "abuse her power," she could simply complain to Bruce about something and get 'fixed' her way. She could even get an employee fired, if she wanted to. Not that Amara was like that, but the directors thought it was best to cover all their bases now instead of later – after all, a fired employee might just decide to take their vengeance out on the library in the form of a lawsuit, and that was the last thing they needed.
They were, however, willing to compromise on the issue. Considering whom she was married to, and how popular she was with the patrons, it was proposed that Amara become an unpaid volunteer, working whatever hours were convenient for her. Since it allowed her to remain at her beloved library, she agreed to this wholeheartedly.
The patrons were only too happy about this decision. Many had been afraid that, with her new marriage and leap up in society, Amara would think herself above her librarian position and quit. Their relief at the news of her remaining was clearly evident in the letters and cards sent in through the mail, which were obviously another reason why Amara had been asked to stay, since loosing patrons was out of the question. Also, a drop in patrons would lead to a lack of funding, so with Amara still working at the library, there was no doubt about the library's financial security and stability.
'Well, they wouldn't be where they are now if they didn't consider the amount of money they'd be losing with me gone,' Amara thought, rolling her eyes.
Sadly, her volunteer work only pleased the library patrons and its board. There were many others who thought that all of her good efforts were unseemly and degrading for a Mrs. Bruce Wayne, and it caused a flood of gossip to go on behind her back amongst the higher socialites.
The cause of all the gossip were the matriarchs of the best and richest families in Gotham, a group of older women who believed it was inappropriate for Mrs. Wayne to spend every weekday at volunteer work, even if it was at a library. The old women believed that, with her new-found wealth and marriage, Amara Wayne should put her husband's money to good use and donate that instead of so much of her time. Even worse, they didn't even approve of Amara using a common public library to borrow books! After all, Bruce hardly used a public library, but that was because he was busy with work and his, uh, nightly activities. Whenever he wanted something new to read, he usually bought the books, read them, and later donated the used texts to local libraries, or to charities that helped fight illiteracy.
But in the end, what the social butterflies thought about her actions was of no concern to Amara. The only opinions that mattered to her were Bruce's and Alfred's, and if they approved of her works at the library, why should she care what a group of rich snobs thought about her?
The clock beside her chimed the hour, and she saw that it was time to head home. Alfred was bound to be waiting for her, and since she didn't have to do any cleaning or locking up, Amara was free to gather her things and head out the door, which was just what she did. With a nod to a few patrons, a smile to a couple volunteers, and a smile to Julie, who'd taken her place at the front desk, Amara was out the door and treated to Alfred's warm smile.
"Had a good day, then, did we?" he asked while opening the car door.
"Average," she replied with a sigh as she got in and settled into the soft leather seats. "I just want to go home and relax for the night."
Shutting her door, Alfred slid into the driver's seat, then glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "I hope that you remember the Moonlight Banquet tonight," he pointedly reminded her. "You're expected to attend, since you agreed to go two months ago."
Falling back into the seat with a groan, Amara closed her eyes and wished she didn't have to. "Why do I let Bruce talk me into going to those things?" she whined. "They're a waste of dresses, makeup, and time. At the rate we're going, I'll have two huge closets full of gowns before the year is up!"
"I know you don't like them, but it's expected," Alfred told her with a smile. "Master Bruce doesn't like going to them, either, but with you at his side, you've made them more bearable then they used to be. I know he's happy having you with him, if only to have someone lovely to talk, laugh and dance with."
Amara shook her head, knowing he was right about everything. As Mrs. Wayne, she was expected to attend tons of parties, balls, and other social functions with her husband. Although Amara liked to dance, eat, and drink the night away with Bruce, it wasn't the parties themselves that were the problem. Actually, it was the expense of dressing up for it that always annoyed her, not to mention the arrogant rich folks she had to talk to. The two went hand-in-hand, the dressing up and the rich people, because she had to dress in designer styles to impress the those who made up Bruce's social circle, and she hated spending so much money on a dress she could only wear once. Bruce didn't mind the expense, but Amara hated seeing such wonderful garments go to waste. Donating them was an option, but few in the poorer communities wanted a Chanel or Gucci dress, because they had no place to wear it to.
Oh, well. It was time to keep up appearances, and it was for Bruce's sake, since his business partners would be there. She could do that for the man she loved. After all he'd given to her, a little time and makeup was the least she could do for him.
As expected, Amara found Bruce and herself the center of attention as soon as they stepped out of the limo. Alfred had given her a few words of encouragement, but they didn't hold up very long under the flashing bulbs of the photographers. Lord, how she hated these vultures; they always hung around so they could get a dozen pictures of someone rich, famous, or both, sometimes following their target until they were inside. It was very annoying.
Beside her, Bruce kept a firm grip on her hand and gave a tight smile to the paparazzi. Amara did the same, though it pained her to do it. Even after months of being married to Bruce, she was still considered fascinating by Gotham, and everyone wanted to see what kind of person she was.
Finally, she and her husband moved past the throng of media people and into the large ballroom. Tonight, the party was being held at the Governor's Hotel, the most exclusive and expensive hotel in Gotham, so the place was packed with the crème-de-la-crème of society, film, music, and politics. The men were almost uniform in their tuxedos, but the women were an array of designer gowns and sparkling jewelry, some of them stunning while others looked absurd.
The sight of all this would have impressed Amara, had she not become used to it. Hell, she was even used to wearing designer gowns now, though she'd never like doing it. The floor-length black velvet gown she now wore hugged her in all the right places, and the off-the-shoulder sleeves were an elegant touch. With her hair pulled into a bun at the top of her head and a diamond necklace around her neck, she was a match for every other woman here.
Bruce leaned closer. "Would it be cliché for me to say that you're the most beautiful woman here tonight?"
As he murmured into her ear, the warmth of his breath tickled her skin, causing her to shiver. Amara knew that he did that on purpose; Bruce loved making her shiver like that, since he was the only one who could do it, and she liked the little suggestive look he got whenever he was able to cover her skin in goose bumps.
"Hmm, not cliché, exactly, but typical of a wealthy man complimenting a woman he's with," she murmured back. "You know how rich people can be."
He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her ear. "I do know, but unlike them, I have something far better than money."
Bruce squeezed her hand in emphasis, letting her know exactly what he valued most. Amara smiled at the sweet gesture and squeezed back as they entered the mass of people, nodding occasionally to people she recognized and smiling at those she didn't. No doubt she'd be familiar with more of them before the end of the night; they'd make sure of that by treating her liked their new best friend.
However, Amara knew that Bruce didn't want her to be actual friends with these people. Most of them only wanted to be seen talking to Mrs. Wayne, the billionaire's wife, not Amara the person. It was their social connection to Bruce that they wanted, and anything else that existed between them and these 'friends' would be as false as the noses on their Botox-filled faces.
Biting the inside of her cheek, Amara plastered on a fake smile and tried to look like she was enjoying herself. Given the choice, she'd rather be at home with her husband, curled up on the couch with a book while he skimmed over business papers or cleaned up his Batman gear. When it was pitch black outside, he would kiss her soundly and warmly, then head into the secret caves that held his suit and gadgets. She wouldn't see him again until dawn, when he slipped into bed beside her and wrapped a muscled arm around her waist before drifting into sleep.
'Well, he doesn't always go directly to sleep when he gets home,' she thought with an inward smirk. 'If he did, I'd be very upset with him.'
"Oh, damn it, that's the last thing I need," Bruce muttered, clearly frustrated.
Amara turned her head. "What is it, what's wrong?"
He jerked his head at the approaching group of beaming men in tuxes. "Business men who want to talk about nothing but stocks, buyouts, and other things I've no interest in tonight. Why can't I have one party with you that doesn't involve business talk?"
She gave him a sympathetic look and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I know, but we'll make it, like we always do. Just be sure to find me soon, before the Gorgons chew me up and spit me out?"
Bruce glanced around in search of a safe place to stash her, preferably away from the harsh words of the social matriarchs and their spoiled daughters. Most of them were still sore that he'd married for love instead of money, and had grudges against Amara for "hooking" him. They wore their charming faces in front of Bruce, obviously hoping that he'd keep his social connections with them, but still praying that he'd see what they saw as a 'mistake' in marriage and divorce his wife to marry someone socially acceptable.
'Never happen,' Amara thought with a smile, her eyes watching Bruce put on his 'protective face.'
"Ah, there we go," he said with a jerk of his head. "The corner by the painting of a woman in green looks quiet and empty. Go hide out there, and I'll try and meet you in fifteen minutes."
He wouldn't live up to that promise, but she didn't expect him to. Those businessmen would take at least half an hour to get through what they wanted to talk about, and then they'd wait for Bruce's reply before arguing for their own opinions. She'd see him in an hour, if she was lucky, but that was fine. As long as he promised to find her, she could hold her own until then.
Resigned to her fate, Amara headed towards the appetizer table to see what they had. The food was always tasty, pricy stuff, but rarely filling. She would have to eat a lot to fill up, but if she did, people would start talking about her overeating, and that would cause talk in the papers she would have to deal with. However, if she didn't eat anything, they'd talk about eating disorders, which was just as bad. But nibbling a bit of everything was alright, and if someone asked her how something tasted, she'd at least be able to give them an honest answer.
Picking up a small plate, she selected a few light delicacies consisting of vegetables, shrimp or fruit, snagged a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, then set up shop in the corner. Luckily, everyone was presently too busy greeting newcomers or friends to notice her, which was just how Amara liked it; she would be far more alert and ready to face other people with something in her stomach.
When her plate was empty and her glass half gone, Amara felt her head clear a bit. It was then that she noticed several women her age gathering around her, clearly intent on trading gossip with her. It didn't matter to her what was going on in the lives of the wealthy socialites, but they assumed that everyone wanted to know everyone else's business, so they'd talk to her about things whether she wanted to hear it or not.
Biting back a sigh, Amara put on a polite smile and kept her mouth shut, knowing that if she opened her mouth, she'd say something regrettable. As long as she kept quiet, the other women would talk over her head and around her, only expecting the occasional nod or agreeing sound, but not more than that. If she were lucky, Bruce would rescue her before they started prying into her personal life.
With one ear open, she took a sip of her champagne and raised her eyebrows in pretend surprise agreement to one woman's complaint about her new car. Apparently it was the right response, because the woman, a redhead Amara didn't know or recognize, continued talking along that same subject, not pausing except to breathe.
"But, anyway, Walter is sure to get me a better sports car next week," the redhead said with a sigh. "At least our seasonal trip to Rome was fabulous. What about you, Veronica? How was Australia?"
A blonde rolled her eyes. "Oh, it was miserable! Did you know that when it's summer here it's winter down there? James and I couldn't do anything we wanted! It was frustrating!"
"At least your husband takes you out of the country," complained a brunette. "Thomas only likes the Hamptons, so we were there for the past few weeks! I'm so behind on the latest news, it's embarrassing!"
The three of them turned to look at Amara, but it was the blonde, Veronica, that spoke. "I'm sorry, we didn't ask your name," she said airily, as though her rudeness didn't matter (which, to her, it probably didn't). "That's a lovely diamond necklace, by the way. It looks very expensive. Did your husband buy you that for the party?"
Plastering on a smile, Amara donned her politest public face. "Yes, he did. But then, he really tends to be overly-generous when it comes to that sort of thing."
"And who is your husband?" the redhead asked, curiosity gleaming in her blue eyes.
Well, that was new. These women had to have been very out of touch if they didn't know who she was and who she was married to. Socialites prided themselves on being on top of the gossip channels, so these three had probably been gone for quite some time to not recognize her.
Amara gave a small smile and hoped that they didn't turn their fangs on her when she told them. "I'm married to Bruce Wayne."
Eyes widened and jaws dropped as they stared at her, first in shock, then in utter disbelief. Amara could practically feel the air changing from friendly indifference to hostile and angry, which didn't bode well for her.
"You married Bruce Wayne," the brunette asked, her face and voice full of skepticism. "The billionaire playboy of Gotham? You must be joking!"
The others began to snicker, and Amara felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She'd seen this before in high school, and knew that whatever came next wouldn't be pretty. Some predators liked to attack in groups, and socialites were often the same way when it came to ganging up on someone they thought was lying to them.
"There you are, sweetheart," declared a familiar, and very welcome, male voice. "Sorry I'm late, I was looking everywhere for you."
All four women turned to see a smiling Bruce joined them. The other females put on their most flirtatious airs, all of which quickly disappeared as soon as he came up to Amara's side and wrapped an arm around her waist.
"I apologize, ladies," he addressed them, "but Lucius Fox has been dying to spend some time with my wife, and I promised him a lot of conversation time. Please excuse us."
Walking away with her husband, Amara couldn't help but feel smug as the superior looks on all three women's faces vanished, replaced by surprise and jealousy. She definitely owed Bruce when they got home.
Glancing over to his left, Bruce couldn't help but smile as his wife dozed softly against his shoulder. She was exhausted, he knew, and he felt guilty about it. He really shouldn't have dragged her out tonight, not after work on a Friday, but he'd had no choice. If the two of them didn't appear in public together, people would start thinking there were marital problems between them. He'd learned the hard way that once the gossip started flowing, it was hard to stop.
Still, it was rare that social events were held on Friday nights, and she'd appeared to have had a good time, so it was alright. Lucius Fox, bless him, kept Amara amused and talking through most of the evening, and that made them all happy.
'Now that I think about it, Amara has never really had a conversation with Lucius,' Bruce realized.
And it was quite true. Lucius was always so busy, he rarely attended parties. When he did, his time and attention were usually occupied by other businessmen or scientists who wanted to chat with him. Bruce could talk with him, but then, he was Lucius's boss, so Lucius had to make time for anything Bruce had to say. Amara, however, had been forced to wait until Bruce had taken the time to bring them both together.
'I'll have to change that in the future,' he mentally noted. 'And I'll make it up to her.'
"How was it, sir?" Alfred whispered from the driver's seat. "Not too bad, I hope."
Bruce grinned and gently pressed his cheek to the top of his wife's head. "It was fine, Alfred, thank you. She was trapped by a few of the nastier pieces of work, but survived it long enough for me to rescue her before things turned ugly."
The older man nodded in approval. "Very good, sir. I'd hate to see her hurt by some jealous shrews who have nothing better to do than make others feel miserable."
"Well, Lucius Fox was there, and he was entertaining enough to last the whole evening, so it all worked out." Bruce sighed and hugged Amara closer to his side. "I just want to get her home and into bed."
"I heard that," said a soft voice from under his cheek. "And what are you planning to do once you get me home and into bed, hmm?"
He grinned, loving how she was teasing him. "That's for me to know, and you to find out," he muttered back. "And I won't be leaving to patrol tonight, so you've got me all to yourself."
Amara tilted her head back as Bruce moved his own so that he could look down at her. "Well, that sounds promising," she whispered, her lips hovering near his. "But in the meantime…"
Bruce instantly lost himself as she kissed him, a promise of what was to come the minute they were alone together. He could hardly wait to get home.
AN: I know, not a lot of Bruce, but more of Bruce later on, I promise! Please be kind and review! Thanks!