Warning: Some Mild Language . . .

Apparently the Hamilton Industries' Annual Christmas Gala was one of the big events of the year in Chicago. It had been some years since Dick was subjected to this many flashbulbs. In the early years, right after Bruce had taken him in, Dick was the target of the paparazzi and photographers would climb all over themselves and others for just one shot of him. It used to scare him.

Later, however, while Dick was always a source of interest for photographers, the limelight eventually reverted back to its rightful place with Bruce, the subject of choice. Although, showboat that he was, Dick wasn't completely adverse to the attention, he preferred to remain background fodder. Tonight, he sighed, he contented himself with sharing the spotlight with Elle.

She was a regular celebrity here in the Windy City; her entire family being wealthy and eligible. Since she had disappeared from view with her move to Bludhaven, her reemergence at the company's premier event had flashbulbs going off at a phenomenal rate, and Dick's presence at her side ramped up the press' curiosity from captivating interest to a rabid fascination. It was a good thing he didn't suffer from PTSD or epilepsy.

The whispers and speculations were rampant. He had been recognized. A Wayne, by way of adoption, and with the vivacious and reclusive Hamilton daughter on his arm, was gossip fodder of the best kind. It wasn't the first time that the couple had garnered attention. The mention of Halloween could be heard if one leant an ear. Over two months together . . . It was practically a betrothal in the eyes of the rich and famous.

His lips quirked at the thought.

And they did look like a couple tonight. Dick was done up right in his best tuxedo with the addition of the formal Hamilton plaid in the form of a cummerbund. No one would miss the connotations of that little detail. He matched Elle to perfection. But why anyone would want to see him when Elle was dressed to the nines beat the heck out of him. She was the epitome of grace and beauty this evening.

Her dark-brown hair was swept up in a simple but classic chignon decorated with a sprig of holly. Her gown was breathtaking; a shape-hugging vision of black velvet. It was a sleeveless sheath with a deeply-scooped neck and a plunging back. At the center of her waist at the back of her gown was a luxurious A-line insert made of the same Hamilton plaid in flowing layers of chiffon. It was elegance itself, and quite frankly made Dick's mouth water . . . And with a slight downturn of his lips, he admitted probably every other man's as well.

He took a step closer to her and slid a possessive hand about her waist. Elle merely glanced at him, smiling, and turned back to the conversation she was having with one of several of the city's political figures who were invited to join in the festivities. She introduced him to several people, many of whom were high ranking officers in her father's company. All of them greeted him with interest and all of them hinted to the fact that they, too, were hoping she would join the family business.

All said and done, it was only twenty minutes before the festivities for the two of them ended, and Aiden Hamilton walked through the entrance. Flashbulbs went off in another frenzy as the dashing millionaire entered with a supermodel on his arm. Dick had seen her pictures around and knew she went by just one name; much like celebrities such as Madonna, Cher, Prince . . . but he couldn't remember what name that was. Blonde like Elle's brother, Dick thought she seemed a little washed out in her white gown.

Aiden made a splash with the Scottish flair added to his own tux. The black jacket had square, silver button accents turned on their bias paired with a matching vest over a white, tuxedo dress shirt and a green tie. What caught and held the eye of nearly every woman in the room was the formal green Hamilton tartan kilt that brushed the tops of his knees. Over his left shoulder hung a matching plaid that was attached over his heart with a large brooch with the Hamilton crest. He boasted knees socks and dress shoes.

Dick's expression ran skeptical despite the bevy of sighs from the female guests around the room.

"I bet you would look incredibly sexy in a kilt," Elle whispered in his ear.

That was all it took to rid him of the look of indigestion and put a grin on his face. He glanced at her, amused. "Do you think?"

Her pink tongue touched the edge of her deep-red lips. "You have the knees for it," she assured him.

"You wouldn't get a very good view of my ass," he reminded her.

"Oh, I don't know," she teased. "One good, stiff breeze and I might have an even better view of your ass than you might think. Particularly if you follow Scottish tradition . . ."

Dick tilted his head in confusion, a half smile quirking the edge of his mouth on one side. "Scottish tradition? Is it as fascinating as your Italian family legend?"

Elle gazed at him wide-eyed and innocent. "You don't know what a Scottish man wears under his kilt?"

He shook his head. "I can't say that I do, no."

Elle smiled, leaned up and bit his earlobe as she whispered. "Nothing."

His eyebrows shot up and he looked a bit startled, whether by her action or her information, no one could know. Elle laughed at his expression and moved away from the cameras. Dick followed her; his fascination with her making him helpless not to.

They stop by a corner window and look out over the view. They could see the lights of the John Hancock building and the city skyline from there. Lake Michigan stretched out into the darkness on their right. She leaned back against him. Even with heels, Dick could still rest his chin on the top of her head; not that he'd do it now, mind you! She would kill him if he messed up her hair at the start of the party. But the thought of her temper made him grin.

She saw the grin flash in their reflection and she turned slightly with a suspicious look on her face.

"Just what is that smile for," she questioned him.

He grinned down at her innocently. "Just happy to be here," he said.

"Hm . . ."

"And feeling extremely lucky that I am Romani and not Scottish. It is far too cold to go Scotsman au natural in this weather," he added as he returned his gaze onto the glorious Chicago skyline. "Brr . . ."

Elle laughed at his dramatic shiver, and the tension inside him that arose at the entry of her brother eased somewhat. If she wasn't worried about Aiden; why should he? Dick sighed. Because he recognized signs of an unstable personality, that was why. He tried to imagine Elle having to deal with the man on a regular basis and had to suppress a shudder. He wanted to understand the reasons behind Aiden's irrational hatred, but she continued to refuse to talk about it.

"So, are you going to tell me what the plans are for the evening?" He was really hoping for a night of dancing and hors d'oeurves, a little schmoozing and pressing of hands, and nothing more.

"Aiden and I will say a few words to start the party off officially and then we will have to dance together once," she said, staring off into the distance pensively.

"No." Dick shook his head. "I don't want you dancing with him."

She glanced up with a slight frown. "It's tradition. I would dance with Poppa usually, but many times I would dance with both of them. With Poppa not here, it is expected."

"I thought you spent winters in Italy," he countered.

"Yes, and normally I would be on a plane the day after tomorrow, but I plan to spend the holiday here . . . With you." She touched his lips with her fingers, looking up at him seductively through her eyelashes.

"It's not going to work," he announced.

Elle blinked. "What's not going to work?"

"You . . . trying to distract me," he told her. "It's not going to work. I don't want him dancing with you. I don't want him touching you. I don't even want him to speak to you."

Elle frowned and stepped back to better face him. "That's a lot of don'ts," she commented slowly.

"Elle, that man . . ." How the hell did he say this? He started to run his hand through his hair in frustration, but Elle caught his hand and held it in both of hers.

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "That man . . . What? Finish your thought."

He glanced around them to make certain that no one would overhear him. He pushed her a little closer to the window; holding her upper arms in his hands, he leaned his face close to hers. He didn't want to hurt her by rubbing her nose in this extremely uncomfortable knowledge.

"He . . . He hates you, baby. I could see it in his face last night," Dick murmured softly. "I don't understand why, though."

Elle stared at him with an odd expression on her face. Her lips turned up into a hesitant smile. "Dick, do you think that I am so simple that I wouldn't realize that? Sweetheart, I've known that my brother hated me from as far back as I can remember."

"But why?" he burst out. He caught himself and schooled his features to be pleasant.

"I'm sure that I don't know all of the reasons, but the one that I am most familiar with is who I am." Elle shrugged. At Dick's obvious confusion, she continued. "I am his father and Esmeralda's daughter. I am Arabella Loren Hamilton. I was born and I exist."

"What?"

"Mostly though, I think it is because I am Esmeralda's daughter." Elle smiled sadly. "It really doesn't extend much further than that. Poppa has done his best to compound the problem by pitting us against each other in his affections, but since the day begins and ends with Esmeralda's daughter, Aiden takes it personally and has the tendency to hold grudges."

"That makes no sense! None of that is your fault," Dick declared.

Elle sighed. She had obviously come to terms with this a long time ago. "It makes sense to him."

"That's an even better reason to keep you away from him. Let's go," he told her suddenly. "Let's leave and we can go home to Bludhaven or we can stay at a hotel here and go home tomorrow. You're choice. But let's just go. Right now!"

"I promised Poppa," she explained to him. "And I have an obligation to the stockholders to stay and put up a good front. We can't allow them to go home shaken about the state of the company. Poppa's illness has become common knowledge, and their scared, so Aiden and I have to show them that the company is still in good hands."

Dick stared at her. "You don't even want the company!"

"Sh," Elle frowned at him, shushing him. "Don't say that here."

"What are you doing? Tell me what the hell is going on here," he begged. "Use small words to make certain I can understand."

Elle snorted. "You're being ridiculous."

"Yesterday, I watched you declare that you wanted nothing to do with the family business," Dick whispered. "I heard you beg your father to give it all to your brother. I held you in my arms as you cried over the fact that no one listens to you." He took her hands in his. "Well, I listened to you. And now, when I am offering to take you away from all of this, you tell me you want to stay and help the business. Darling, you need to make up my mind for me because I don't know what the hell to think at this point."

"A lot of people are employed by Hamilton Industries. Were I to storm out of here; hell, even if I were to stay but refuse to stand by Aiden or dance with him; I run the risk of scaring the stockholders into selling. The stock drops, the company suffers economically, and people – good people, Dick – get laid off. I can prevent that by staying and smiling for a couple of hours; by standing by Aiden and letting him spin me around the dance floor a few times."

Dick sighed. "And you need to do this basically because you are a good person with a conscience."

"Yeah, basically." Elle agreed with that assessment. "I'd feel really bad if people lost their jobs in this economy because I was throwing what amounts to a temper tantrum. I can figure out what to do about everything else on Monday."

A smattering of clapping caught their attention, and the couple turned to look at the small platform set up at the other end of the ballroom.

Elle gave Dick's hand a squeeze.

"Showtime," she said as she pasted on a cheerful smile, and began making her way to the other side of the room; drawing Dick along with her.

He followed because he simply could not remain behind. If he couldn't stop her from being near her brother, then he would stand near enough to guard against him should he lose it on her like he did the night before. Nothing Elle said would make him believe that Aiden hadn't stalked around that table in order to physically harm her. He knew the man had hurt her before and Elle was lying for him, although he still didn't understand why she would protect him.

He was a cop. He knew domestic cases were the worst because family members would lie and defend their own attacker more often than not; wives would defend abusive husbands, children would defend abusive parents. He would never have pegged Elle as one who would do that, but he was learning all kinds of new things about her. He knew she was forgiving, but he was a little worried he would need to save her from herself.

He watched the two siblings meet on the small stage. They could have gone into show business, Dick found himself thinking. They laughed and smiled and spoke words of encouragement and hope for the New Year. They talked a little about the future of the company and where it was headed. They spoke of new beginnings and then spouted a number of platitudes about helping our fellow man and giving back to the community.

Elle announced they would be opening a new after-school center that would have people that would not only watch over their employees children, but tutor them in their subjects as well. Aiden spoke of donating a new wing to one of the local hospital especially for pediatrics. And then as soon as the brother and sister wished their guests a Merry Christmas, the live music began and Aiden led Elle out onto the dance floor.

Dick gritted his teeth as he watch them. He stood by unable to stop Elle from stepping into the arms of a man who should have loved her, but instead seemed to despise her. That he was her brother only made his frustration that much greater.

Dick glanced around him, interested in knowing who among these people could see beneath the act. People smiled and toasted and chatted as they watched the siblings waltz around the floor. No one noticed . . . Except her. The blonde that had come on the arm of Aiden Hamilton. She knew . . .

Now that Dick knew, it was so obvious.

He stepped over to her and introduced himself. "Hello. My name is Richard," he told her.

Her blue eyes were as pale and as washed out as the rest of her, but she had the bone structure that the camera loved. She glanced up at him without any real interest.

"I'm with him," she said, nodding in Aiden's direction. European accent, hm.

"What a coincidence," he injected smoothly. "I'm with her," and tilted his head at Elle.

That caught her attention. She turned to face him. "The Wayne," she asked, blonde eyebrow lifting.

"A Wayne. Grayson-Wayne to be exact," he clarified.

Her lips quirked up. "Ah, yes. I had heard that about all of you Wayne boys."

Now his eyebrow rose in curiosity.

She shrugged and turned to watch the dance again. "That none of you are the genuine article."

His mouth dropped open in spite of himself. Ouch! "Well, only in the case of the eldest three. My youngest brother is considered to be quite genuine. But I can assure you that I am most definitely real."

She smirked at him.

"Are you not going to tell me your name?" He smiled charmingly in the face of her surprise.

"Y-You do not recognize me?"

"Should I?" Score 1 – Grayson! Can you feel the burn?

"Tatiana," she said, looking at him in earnest now.

"Tatiana . . . What? You don't have a last name?" He was being bad now, but Dick refused to feel guilty. He was doing this for the honor of all the hyphenated Wayne boys, after all.

She opened her mouth and then closed it, staring at him.

He stared back politely.

"No," she said, finally. "I don't."

"No?" Dick's eyebrow rose a little higher. "That seems a shame. Everybody needs family."

"I have family," She snapped, getting a little annoyed with him.

"Ah, I meant family you are proud of," he smirked back at her. "For instance, I have two; hence the hyphen."

She huffed at him. "You've made your point."

Grayson – Score 2! He fought back the urge to smirk again. One per person was enough.

The dance continued. Dick usually didn't mind the length of waltzes. At least, he didn't until this evening. This particular one had gone on for nearly ten minutes, and he knew that it would last another ten easily. Elle was staring at her brother's brooch, it looked like. Her smile seemed strained.

Dick focused on her emotions. He was getting better at this, he thought. Elle was . . . nervous, he thought; a little upset. It could just be her brother's proximity, but, Dick narrowed his eyes as the couple swung past, it could just as easily be whatever he was saying to her.

He couldn't take another ten minutes of this; stockholders be damned! He turned to Tatiana.

"May I have this dance," he asked, bowing over her hand in an elegant and gentlemanly fashion. Thank you, Alfred . . .

Tatiana glanced at him and then back at the spinning couple still on the floor.

"Aiden said the first dance always went to the Hamiltons," she said, confused.

"Interestingly enough," Dick replied, "I happen to be wearing the Hamilton plaid." He indicated his cummerbund. He touched his hand to the small bit of tartan with a smaller version of the brooch that Hamilton wore that was pinned to her shoulder like a damned corsage. "And so, apparently, are you."

She looked down at the bit of plaid that Aiden had given to her earlier that evening. It was like he was marking her as might a dog would, she had thought at the time. She ran her fingers over the ancient pin lightly. He had said that the small brooch had belonged to his father's mother; given to her on her wedding day by his grandfather.

The smile she gave Dick this time was genuine; the real thing!

"I'd be delighted," she told him, and Dick immediately swung her out onto the dance floor with the intent of catching up with Elle and her brother.

It took almost two full rotations, but as they pulled adjacent to the other couple in the dance, Dick reached over and removed Elle's hand from Aiden's shoulder. He pulled her away and gently pushed Tatiana into the other man's arms. He drew Elle into his arms and continued the waltz, but with more enthusiasm since he now had the dance partner of his choice. All of this he accomplished without missing a step; without losing the rhythm of the music.

Elle's eyes were wide, but lit with amusement. Her smile was even brighter for a moment before pursing her lips in annoyance.

"What are you doing," she attempted to scold him for his brazenness.

He grinned at her; feeling the tension draining from her from under his hands. Her annoyance with him was a total forgery as a wave of happiness washed over him.

"Saving you from yourself," his eyes softened. "Have I told you this evening how breathtakingly beautiful you are?"

Her lips twitched. "Not in those words, no."

"If you don't care for those, I have more," he promised her.

"Do you," she asked, teasingly.

"Words like, I love you," he leaned down and whispered them close to the corner of her mouth.

The amusement slid away, and Elle turned her head the slightest degree so that her lips brushed his own.

"Do you?" She repeated.

"More than life itself," he assured her; his breath mingling with the cinnamon scent of hers. She always seemed to smell and taste like cinnamon . . . His favorite flavor.

If they were asked later, neither would be able to tell which of them moved that last inch first, but the space was closed and they slowed to a stop in the middle of the dance floor. Elle's arms twined about his neck; one of her hands tugging his head down to hers. Dick's arms wrapped around her waist; one hand against the skin of her upper back as their kiss burst into one of passion. The dance; the place; the crowd itself forgotten.

Flashbulbs burst into an array of dazzling profusion. Murmurs and laughter went unnoticed for several long minutes as the music dwindled away. It wasn't until the party's two hundred and fifty guests began clapping enthusiastically that reality reinserted itself and the two pulled apart.

Elle blushed and looked dazed, but her happiness was there for everyone to see. She was embarrassed only in that she had forgotten herself completely . . . Never by him, though. She grinned and held up a hand to wave to the newly-wild paparazzi; her other hand slipping down into Dick's.

She smiled up at him; her bond mate. He was amazing . . . Turning what surely could have easily become a terrible night into a precious memory.

"Hey," she called out above the applause.

"Hey, what?" he glanced down at her; happy, but curious.

"I love you, too," she said.

"Do you," he asked, teasingly.

"More than life itself," she assured him.

"Merry Christmas," Dick wished her.

Elle smiled. "It will be now."

"So, can we please go home now?"

Elle laughed. "I think maybe we can."

They walked off of the dance floor, Dick's arm slipping around her waist possessively; protectively.

Neither of them noticed the glare that bore into their backs with deep-seated malevolence. And neither did the spellbound paparazzi that turned away from the current, if temporary, CEO of Hamilton Industries to follow their newest front page story to the elevator.

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