By the time Zoe was sitting in Bruce's Rolls Royce, doggedly filming him scrolling through his Blackberry and scowling randomly, she was ready to solve Barbara Stanford's problem for her.

Seriously, if Bruce was going to get much weirder or moodier, she was going to have to quit this assignment. He was really starting to get on her nerves, and it was only iron-clad professionalism that stopped her from telling him to put on his big boy panties and quit moping around. After all, what did the guy really have to be so morose about? He had billions and billions of dollars (Zoe said to herself in her best "Carl Sagan voice"), he had every babe he wanted, he lived in fabulous places and could vacation permanently if he wanted, and he was respected by everybody…

Oh wait.

Now, wasn't that an interesting thought?

Zoe lowered her camera and fiddled with it as she rolled that idea around in her head. Bruce had everything except people's respect. He was the dumb playboy. He was the supermodel's manwhore. He was petted and indulged, but never really held to any standards.

And yet he could have been.

Society could have expected more of him, and he could have expected more of himself. He could have achieved more for himself. He could have been proud of himself…respected himself.

So many thoughts like this tumbled through Zoe's mind that she ended up completely ignoring the man in the seat across from her, the very source of these thoughts.

She started when the car pulled up to a stop in front of Bruce's building. Silently, Bruce got out on the curb-side and leaned in to help her out, but she hadn't waited for him. She had popped out the traffic-side and was hauling her gear with her.

"And, what would you like for dinner tonight, Miss Butler?" Alfred asked, handing the keys to the valet.

"Oh, well, actually," she stammered. "This is where we part ways for the night. I actually have another appointment to keep, and I have to go home and get ready for it."

"Then perhaps tomorrow night, I can tempt you to stay for dinner and try my Chicken Marengo?"

"Yes, definitely! I'd love to try your Chicken Tango."

"Marengo."

"Right. Marengo," Zoe corrected herself with a laugh. "Kinda sounds like marimba."

"It was a dish invented by one of Napoleon's chefs during one of his campaigns," Alfred replied in a dignified manner.

"Napoleon, um, right. Okay, well, I gotta scoot." Zoe shouldered her bag of gear and turned to hail a cab. "Same time, same channel tomorrow, Bruce?"

"Sure."

The monosyllable from Bruce was like running full tilt into a wall. Zoe remembered her mother's cat had used to do that. For the first time, she felt sympathy for poor Mr. Whiskers.

But, she felt no sympathy for poor Mr. Wayne.

He could suck it.

Appointment. She had called it an appointment and not a date. That was good. Or had she been making fun of him again and his "date"?

Bruce grit his teeth as he stepped off the elevator into the penthouse. He really, really, really didn't want Zoe going on that date with Roman Sionis, and he couldn't think of any way to keep her from doing it.

He wanted to throw his clothes on the floor, venting his irritation by leaving a trail of rumpled shirts and pants as he headed to his closet to change. But, discipline and habit and compulsion made him remove his clothing and fold and hang it up precisely the way he always did every night.

He changed into a dark navy blue suit with a thin grey stripe, a white shirt, and a brown and grey tie. As he struggled with his cufflinks, he thought of how nice it had been to have Zoe there to do them for him. She was such a nice, helpful kid.

She was the reason the Batman went out there night after night, so that nice kids like her could be safe in their East End apartments, not having to worry about walking home from class, or the grocery store…or a date…

Damn!

His face was almost frighteningly stone-cold as he looked in the mirror to finish tying his tie. He hated life. He hated everything about it. He hated everyone. He just wanted to be free of it all. He wanted…he wanted to go back and sit through that damn opera. He wanted to erase this life and go back and start over…to live simple, straight-forward, linear…to see his father's pride as his son legitimately and actively managed Wayne Enterprises…to see his mother's face light up when he brought Zoe home to meet her for the first time…

What.

Wait.

What was Zoe doing in there? He physically shook his head to clear his thoughts and took in deep slow breaths to center himself again. He had allowed himself to drift in the swell of anger, regret and hurt, and that was weak of him. He had to put it all back now. Live in the now. Deal in the now. There was no next moment that didn't come from a now moment.

Bruce ran through his training mantras in his head as he forced his expression to slacken and strolled out to meet Alfred.

"Mr. Sionis and Miss Butler will be dining tonight at the new sushi restaurant ZebraFish," Alfred said nonchalantly. "In case you wanted to know."

"I'm taking Svetlana to Oshinu," Bruce replied.

"I already changed your reservation, Master Bruce. No, no need to thank me."

Bruce snorted but couldn't deny the charge. As he drove the Lamborghini through the streets, he reflected that probably one of the reasons he preferred Oshinu to ZebraFish was that Roman Sionis preferred to eat at ZebraFish. Sionis' absence from the room inevitably made the raw fish taste better.

He picked up Svetlana at her hotel and pasted the dopey, happy smile on his face as she prated on about the shoes she had bought that day. He wished he could stab out his eyes…or maybe his ears. A little judicious flooring of the gas pedal and some sudden stops put a stop to her chatter.

"Ooooh, ees sweet leetle rest-o-raunt," Svetlana cooed, shaking back her long blonde mane.

"Yeah, real nice," Bruce muttered, wincing at the garish black and white stripe theme, accented by magenta velvet upholstery.

By slipping the maitre d' a $50, he managed to get a table about two over from Roman and Zoe. He positioned himself so he could see exactly what was going on. The first thing he did was study Zoe, examining her from head-to-toe. He felt a twinge of disappointment at the fact that Zoe wore a black shirt, black pants, and the old black flats she had worn already. She had tried to comb her hair, but nothing else. This was not the elegant ensemble he realized he had been hoping she would show up in. Then again, he chided himself, the less attractive she could make herself, the less Roman Sionis would want to get his grubby paws on her.

"So, tell me," Roman purred, leaning across the table to Zoe. "What got you interested in film in the first place?"

Zoe smiled and replied, "I've always seen in pictures, and things play out in my head as if it's all a movie."

"Fascinating," Roman smirked, and Bruce wanted to smash that smirk off his face.

"What made you take up the family business?" Zoe asked back.

"But of course I would follow in my father's footsteps," Roman replied. "I couldn't imagine doing anything else."

"Interesting," Zoe said. "It must be hard work to keep up with both the business and all your social obligations."

Something about her observation made Bruce's throat close up in a mild panic.

"Yes," Roman agreed. "You really have to be quite organized and focused to keep everything moving, and also to feel your way through every situation, to make sure everyone feels you are giving them the cream of your attention, to keep an eye on your goal."

Zoe frowned slightly and thought for a moment. Then, she asked, "So what is your goal?"

"To make Sionis Corporation the best, most profitable company that provides the best return on investment for our shareholders."

"But what is your goal, Mr. Sionis? For yourself, not the corporation."

"I want what every man wants, Miss Butler. A wife, a family, security, happiness…love."

Bruce nearly crushed his chopsticks in his hand.

"So, why haven't you married?" Zoe asked bluntly.

"I haven't found the right woman," Sionis said, looking meaningfully at her.

"Then you can't have been looking," Zoe riposted, neatly scooping up a salmon maki in her chopsticks. "You don't strike me as the type to accept failure when you set your mind to accomplish something."

"Ah, but I only want the best."

"Do you deserve the best?"

Despite all his training, Bruce couldn't help but quirk his lips in an aborted smile as Sionis sat back, clearly astonished by a thought he had never had.

Roman Sionis = 0, Zoe Butler = 10,000,000

"I work every day to be the best person I can be, Miss Butler," he said finally, a grim pomposity infusing his words. "I believe that my best effort renders me deserving of the best reward."

Zoe made a strangled little snort that sounded like a laugh choked into a sneeze mid-bite. She swallowed and coughed, her eyes suspiciously bright.

"Sorry," she croaked. "Too much wasabi."

Sionis looked taken aback again. Bruce realized with some satisfaction that Sionis was in uncharted waters with honest little spitfire Zoe. Now, if Zoe had been having dinner with him at his table, it would have been easy to talk with her, to draw her out, to share with her.

No.

It was like waking up by having someone dump cold water on you. He suddenly and keenly remembered every reason why he couldn't share with Zoe, why he couldn't let himself get close to her or fond of her.

He would look out for her like a big brother, especially while Sionis was trying to get his hooks into her, but after that…after that, they'd go their separate ways, and he'd never have to see her again.

That was the right thing to do, and he should be glad to do it. He was glad to do it.

He didn't love Zoe Butler. Not in the least.

A/N: I have not forgotten you! I'm sorry for the passivity of this chapter, but I'm easing back into it. So, in the past year and a half, I've been through quite a bit. My father passed away, and I've had to take care of my mother, I moved from Boston to Delaware back to Boston…and…I got a book published!

Fair warning, it's erotica, but it's MY style of erotica, with lots of twists and turns and plot, believable characters and romance. If you like my writing and are over 18, check it out at Bookstrand. It's called Moonstruck, and it's under my erotica pen name: Fiona Blackthorne.

I also have a new blog on Blogspot called Artifex Amor. If you want to know more about me, my life, my writing…plus cooking, fashion, book reviews, etc…it's a great place to visit!

Thank you to all my readers who are so patient with me – it means soooo much to me. Also, just FYI, Spellbinding will no longer be updated, as it is being turned into a book. Yeah. You heard me. Not a Batman book, but a book with all the things you love in it!