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Chapter 3
Exclusive events always brought out the who's who of Gotham high society in droves, and tonight was no exception. They filtered about the room like bejeweled hummingbirds, thin flutes of expensive champagne clutched in their manicured hands. As always, many of the women in attendance had pulled out all the stops in the accessories department. Too bad she wasn't in the market for a piece of audaciously expensive jewelry. Not tonight, anyway. Tonight she had her eye on a bigger score.
The museum was previewing its new gem and mineral exhibit featuring some of the most valuable stones in the world. Sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds were displayed about the room, each gem high on clarity and perfectly cut and set. Each would fetch a fortune on the black market. But she had her sights set on something more exquisite than a simple emerald or diamond. She was after something she'd only read about, something some in her profession believed to be the sparkly equivalent of the Loch Ness monster. Directly in the middle of the room, surrounded by overly-perfumed people gesticulating excitedly, sat the Queen's Ruby.
Roughly the size of a man's fist and deeper red than arterial blood, the Queen's Ruby was valued at close to $20 million. It was part of an anonymous private collection and hadn't been displayed publicly in over fifty years. Even from this distance, it was everything she'd imagined and more. If her operation went as planned, the ruby would be out of the country by morning.
Blending into the outskirts of the crowd, she pulled out her phone and pretended to text while taking discreet pictures of the cameras lining the ceiling and the positioning of each of the jewelry cases. Even with her recon and weeks of advance planning, tonight would be tricky.
Due to its rarity as an exhibit, the Queen's Ruby was subject to intense international and domestic press coverage, making it a target for every thief and hustler for a hundred miles. In turn, the security in the wing would be increased by at least thirty percent. Of the seven guards in the room, Selina pegged three as temporary hires - the temps always gave themselves away with their nervous glances and uneasy fidgeting. She'd wager on another two temps in the security control room in addition to the regular staff.
She mentally catalogued the room as she took pictures - there were six visible cameras. Judging by the layout of the space, these cameras weren't large or powerful enough to capture the whole room without significant blind spots, meaning there had to be at least four cameras she couldn't see. The room also contained a focused light motion sensor system built into the walls. When enabled, this system created a complicated web of infrared beams crisscrossing the room. The alarm would be triggered if anything blocked a beam from meeting its designated light receptor. It would take precision, patience, and damn good gymnastics to clear the web without breaking any of the beams. Her fingers itched. This would be a challenge. Challenges like these are what she lived for.
The Batman was the wildcard. The one factor she couldn't predict or calculate for. He'd be watching, she knew, but when? Where? If all went well she wouldn't meet him tonight. She wouldn't find herself on a rooftop with him, the late October air heavy with the spicy scent of fall, his perfect lips casting intriguing shadows across his strong chin.
"No interest in the exhibit?" The voice came from her right. It was easy, playful. She wasn't surprised by the attention, considering she'd opted for her tightest black cocktail dress and highest stiletto heels. But tonight was not about catching the eye of another mark. The unexpected windfall from her seatmate had already paid for her trip.
Turning to the owner of the voice, her excuses died on her lips. She was face to face with none other than Bruce Wayne. Broad shoulders and narrow hips draped in a smartly tailored dark grey suit, a blue-grey silk tie chosen to highlight his ice blue eyes, a pair of silver Tiffany cufflinks at his wrists. Those simple, vintage cufflinks were worth roughly $3,000. The newly-minted social media billionaire circulating through the crowd was wearing a watch worth $200,000, yet Bruce Wayne, the wealthiest man in the room, opted for subtly. Expensive without being flashy, elegance without pretense. Old money to his very core. It was a look she liked.
"On the contrary. I have quite an eye for beautiful things." Their eyes met as she tucked her phone into her clutch. Before snapping the clutch shut she sent the pictures of the room to her computer, which would automatically overlay them onto a blueprint of the building using a program she wrote. Within an hour she'd have an interactive map of the room, including duct work and security systems.
"We have that in common," he drawled. There was nothing subtle in the way his eyes roamed her curves. She hadn't planned on working at the party, but she did love all things vintage. And handsome billionaires. Lifting his cufflinks might be fun. "Join me for a drink?"
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Drinks in hand, they made their way to an empty exhibit room containing several uncut gems from around the world. She took pleasure in knowing she could take every stone in this room tonight if she wanted. It would be easy. But she'd never done things easy.
"I'd ask if you come to these things often, but given I've never seen you around before..." he said, his right hand settling at the small of her back as they walked slowly around the room.
"I'd ask if you know everyone in Gotham but I'm pretty sure you'd answer me with some line about always remembering a woman like me," she quipped.
"What makes you think it would be a line?" he asked, smiling. It surprised her.
According to every gossip site in town Bruce Wayne is a womanizer with more looks than brains who loves three things: Parties, booze, and women. He's immature, self-absorbed, and a borderline alcoholic. Given all the rumors about his behavior, Selina always found it odd that he'd never been busted for a DUI or caught on video doing cocaine in some overdecorated bathroom.
"What happened there?" she asked, nodding toward a bandage across the knuckles of his left hand.
"I - have you ever gone scuba diving near a coral reef?" he asked. She tried not to notice how blue his eyes were, how high his cheekbones. He was handsome in that classic way - square, rugged, masculine; all chin and cheekbone, closely shaved skin and tantalizingly plump lips. The light scent of his expensive cologne teasingly brushed her nose. He smelled male, virile, sexy.
"I thought they made you wear gloves."
"I'm not one to follow the rules. Much to my own detriment."
In a dark corner, they stopped in front of a large geode teeming with amethyst. A single spotlight illuminated the rock, allowing the untamed gems to shimmer like the city at night. Setting her drink down, she grabbed his hand and ran her thumb lightly over the bandages.
"You're a rebel," she said, voice low, playful, reverberating with sex. It was usually part of the con. Tonight the lust on her lips tasted real. He set his drink down.
"Am I?" he asked, his voice dropping from the cheerful, smooth tones he'd been using into something rougher. He was in her personal space, backing her against the wall. His full lips closed over brilliantly white, perfectly straight teeth. Movie star teeth. "And you?"
"Now Mr. Wayne, I'm a good girl," she said, implying everything but. Her back hit the wall and her hands flew to his chest. She ran her hands across him and down his arms. "Maybe you can show me just how good bad can be."
Their lips met. He tasted clean, with no trace of alcohol on his tongue. Normally a kiss from a mark was something to be endured. Tonight it was something to be enjoyed, savored, and catalogued in her memory. The way he kissed made her almost willing to give him anything. Suddenly she wished things were different, wished they were normal people who met the way normal people meet - in a bar, at a coffee shop - somewhere where vintage cufflinks weren't more important than his hands on her body.
Deja vu set her off balance. The way he made her heart pound, made her knees weak, the way he gripped her shoulders as he pinned her against the wall with his hips... She'd done this before, she'd kissed him before, she'd swear on it had she not known better.
"Leave with me," he murmured as he pulled her flush against him. There was something different in his voice, something dark. Something eerily familiar.
"I-" she gasped as he gently nipped the flesh of her neck. She tried to tease him and push him away like she would with any other mark. She couldn't. She didn't want to leave his arms. His fingers trailed lightly along her spine as she shuddered against him. She hadn't felt desire like this in a long time. Not since that night on the roof-
"Bruce? Are you in here?" Veronica Vreeland's voice rang out from the doorway. They broke apart and their eyes locked. His eyes teemed with intelligence, with lust, even a little rage. This was not Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire. He was someone else, someone different. Someone familiar.
"Yeah, Ronnie. I'm here," he called out as he broke eye contact. She turned to leave but he caught her arm. "You never told me your name."
"I know." Picking up her glass, she walked past Veronica Vreeland with her head high and her hips swaying seductively. Once she was out of sight, she wiped her wine glass clean of fingerprints, set it on a table, and walked into the night.