What had happened couldn't have befallen her, but the unthinkable had risen up, had taken her down—hard. She staggered into the bungalow's dim little kitchen, switched on the overhead light and just stood still. Like walls closing in, numbness seized Selina as she relived the infuriating nightmare yet again. Yes, she was thankful. The five thugs, especially the biggest one with the deep gash in his twisted face, who'd bullied her with pitiless eyes, who had brazenly lifted his mask, could've murdered her for the maniacal fight she'd put up.

Which she'd lost. They took from her what she'd risked her life to grab. What she'd been owed. There was nothing to take to the bank, which she'd been on her way to. Gone, the money was gone now, every last laundered bill.

Shakily, Selina trudged to the small fridge to get herself some cold water. Guzzling from the transparent bottle with eyes closed, she choked, needing to catch her breath. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The feeling wasn't good, seeing how badly it shook. "Stupid-stupid-stupid!"

Fought harder…should've fought harderif Bats had been there, each ski-masked scumbag would have broken backs

"Forget about Bats!" Selina shouted, wagging her head. "He never happened. That night high above Gotham wasn't real. None of it. Not the expensive dress and shoes…although he insisted, I keep them. Not his kisses. Not his proposal. Certainly not me saying I'd marry him. Who was I kidding? Me? His wife? The former playboy, now honorable Mr. Bruce Thomas Wayne. The one who'd suck would be me. I'm too used to being on my own. Doing everything my way. Me make him happy? No chance."

Good thing we didn't fly off in his private jet like he wanted to where he said for a quickie wedding. He's so unreal! His private jet…gorgeous man with a private jet thinks he's in love with me.

"Ow—he's so cray-cray, and way better off without edgy me."

Selina slowed her breathing as she dragged herself into the meagerly-furnished living room and sank deep down into the red low-back, bean pod couch. She drained the bottle of water, letting the bottle slip through her un-manicured fingers to the floor. Throwing her head back, she laughed like someone psychotic. When it rains, it tsunami-es. "Royally ripped-off, and kicked to the curb in a week. How's that for living my best life—oh, and don't forget blacklisted. Never knew there were so many clubs in Bludhaven. Now…I know."

Like sick ol' Rickie Lick had vowed, 'Forget about working anywhere else in this town, baby. I run all the clubs. Have fun findin' another gig. You treat me like dirt—I always get my pound of flesh. One way or another."

Because Selina wasn't about to do any nasty favors for that piggy pink-faced, pink nosed nightclub owner who'd cut her from the lineup. She'd spit in his sour, smirking face on her way out. Yeah, Rickie was a real sweetheart, dissing Selina by holding a new singer who had a better voice, according to Lick, over her head. The new singer was his best friend's niece. If Selina played nice with Rickie, he'd reconsider. Maybe keep her on as a backup singer, Saturday nights. That was a big maybe; only if she did anything he wanted.

"I'd sooner slit my throat with my own nails than mess with that rapist." She looked askance at her phone on the cylindrical end table as some caller demanded her attention. Not exactly just any random caller. She winced. "Speak of the ex. Of course he means well, but…he won't let go." Selina huffed, tenting her fingers up against her nose. "He'll stop in 3, 2, 1." Her phone fell silent. The dark ginger tabby cat she called Ging jumped into her lap. The feline sensed things were definitely not all right.

As Selina stroked the beautiful animal, tears welled up in her sad eyes. The hand not stroking the cat she balled into a fist and pressed it into the middle of her forehead. What was she going to do for rent? Just when she thought money worries weren't her problem anymore, they were back, stronger than ever. She hadn't managed to save much from her club performances. Bludhaven was a money-sucker of a city. That didn't phase the rich. The poor, whether they were homeless, jobless, or wage slaves, sank a little deeper every day.

Her vision got even more blurry as tears streamed down her face. Dislodging Ging when Selina rose to her feet fast, she mashed the palms of her hands into her blotchy face. Just as she was about to throw herself down on her steel frame simple platform bed, heavy pounding on her front door broke her out of her melancholy reverie. It didn't take the deductive thinking of a crack detective to figure out who the door-batterer was.

Close to the door, Selina said with a broken voice, "I'm not here. Bruce, go away. Please, just leave me alone."

With his mouth close to the door crack, the helmeted caller calmly made known, "I just need to see you, Sel. I won't drag out what I need to say to you. I'll say it, and go. Just give me a chance to say it to you face-to-face, and I'll leave. I swear."

As usual his plaintive tone hit that nerve, which got to her. Not saying anything, Selina unlocked the door, opening it. She took a wide step back. Her uninvited guest fairly stumbled in, looking like he'd been given a good shove. The wind was howling tonight. No sooner did he remove his motorcycle helmet, she turned her back on him, ruing that she hadn't taken care of her teary-eyed mug. Not a glowing recommendation for showing him how rooted in self-sufficiency she was.

He wasn't here for throwing shade. Whatever he'd done to upset her, cause her to shut him down and out, he'd put things right. But one look at her told him handling her with kid gloves was the only way to go. "Selina—"

She had other ideas. "What are you doing here?" Selina said, choking on those harsh sounding words. More irritated with herself, she chased away her tears with quick, impatient hands. Unexpectedly swift, Bruce came up from behind, ambushing her with hungry arms. Instead of brushing him off as she silently insisted she do, Selina settled into his possessive embrace.

"Why have you been avoiding me? After you said you'd—"

"I shouldn't have—it's a mista—we can't get involved. I never should've…"

The unmasked batman held her tighter because if he eased the tension, she'd disappear, and the little of his mind he had left would go right with her. "Too late; way too late. I'm into you too deep. You're far more addictive than drops. And what you give me is glorious. I can only hope that I measure up to what you deserve."

Selina felt her heart writhe. How does he come up with this uppity stuff? If she said, 'Me too' his pull would take her under. He crept his lips into the softest nook of her neck and he nibbled her velvety skin. Shuddering, Selina said, "And just like drops, you could die from too much."

"Is that what this is? You're afraid that my loving you so much will kill me."

She didn't pull her retort. "I've thought about you and me getting married, and baby, I've gotta tell ya. It can't happen. It's an idea that sounds pretty, but won't work. I got swept up in the moment. You're larger than life in case you don't know. Larger than I could ever live up to. Look at me. Can't hold down a job. Can't hold on to money. I can't be a wife. Not to you—especially not you. Hon, it's just no good. I've been on my own too long."

Too stunned to take her seriously, Bruce answered, "What are you really saying?"

"You're obsessed with me." She held back saying she was obsessed with him. "Not healthy." As remembrance opened up with that first kiss, pointblank, Selina said, "I can't marry you because—because—"

"Because you're my obsession. I'm strung-out on you. And that's unhealthy." His tone made it sound like that was ludicrous. "You really love me."

Now she was the one stunned, and beguiled. Seamlessly she had to admit, "I really love you." She knew, as corny and conventional as it was, that she didn't want to be without him. She also knew he was a stubborn, driven man.

Like he'd been hit in his unprotected head with a crowbar, he erupted, "You'll marry me then, like you said."

"And you don't care about what your circle of elitists, who'll come at you sideways every which way, talkin' crap? You getting with a ratchet, bi-racial lowlife? They don't know that you're the Batman. But they sure as sugar know you're Bruce T. Wayne."

"Who has a significant other!" He loudly scoffed. "Do I give a flying rip what people I don't associate with, let alone care about, think?" Bruce kissed the top of her little head, treasuring her candid admission. How could she know unless he told her? A recluse didn't hang with the so-called 'cool kids.' "There are only two people in my 'circle of elitists': Dory and Albert. If you want in, which I want you to want, you're in. You make three. Tell me this: Why'd you make the first move, and kiss me?"

Selina shrugged in his arms. "Why? No mystery there. Your lips spoke to me. They said, 'taste us.' So I had to. Hmm, hmm good." She turned in his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck, and yielded to more temptation. Easing back the way she'd done after their introductory kiss, she sighed. Fingering his lower lip with the tip of her long fingernail, she breathed, "This will be hard to give up."

"You're not giving anything up." He wanted to tell her he wouldn't let her, but he didn't say it. Coming off as a control freak would backfire. Selina didn't roll with being told what to do. Bruce palmed the back of her head. As he brought her lips back where they belonged, he insisted, "If we don't do what we should, we'll regret how gutless we were." He liked the angle of his sudden brainstorm. "Let's marry secretly. Your call."

Selina's eyes scintillated, and she snuffled. "You're serious." It wasn't a question.

Bruce nodded, sprinkling her forehead with urgent little kisses. "Hmm…never more."

She couldn't hold back from humming, then softly singing, "You've got me in love again…"

"Right where I want you—always."

"You think you can domesticate me? Your irresistible wildcat?"

Would she be content? Could he make her happy? Laser-focused, Bruce thickly replied, "All I want is the chance."

Selina welded her lips to his, and after a while, murmured, "Do you want a secret marriage?"

"I asked you first." With his hand molded to her cheek, he squeezed.

"Okay, let's go for it," Selina sanctioned. "Do I also get to pick where we honeymoon?"

"You're on a roll. Certainly."

Most women have some fantastical place chosen before any talk of marriage materializes. Selina was no exception. "How does the isle of Santa Prisca sound?"

"Like paradise, Sel," Bruce whispered against her cheek, and hugged her harder, envisioning her slipping in and out of azure waves, wearing nothing but a smile. And he drowning in her freewheeling, kittenish vivacity.

"When do our secret nuptials happen?"

Bruce lightly submitted, "This weekend?"

"Moving right along, hon. Okay, yeah. My calendar's free. Sounds like the I do's are right around the corner."

Bruce realized, and it bothered him, that he had no idea if there might be friends or members of a foster family she would like to have witness their wedding. He questioned her about this.

"No. Annika was my best friend. Now there's just you. Only you, like it's going to be from now on."

Her reply was sobering, filling him with irrepressible feelings. "Us. It's going to be us."

"Us," Selina repeated as an overwhelming sense of belonging excited her. "That has a nice sound."

"Really nice. Absolutely beautiful."