The Price of Pride

1

The ball was dreadfully boring. Diana Troy sighed deeply as she glanced at the dancers spinning like tops around the room. The whirling of fluffy dresses wiped the floor as the women moved gaily, men's shoes rasped on the flooring. She glanced absentmindedly at the couple on her right; a redhead shyly flirting with a blonde peacock.

"If Alexa won't mind her manners, I will certainly remind them to her."

Diana glanced on the left and was met with another redhead's furious golden-green eyes. Artemis Bana-Mighdall, her best friend, was fuming at the sight of her sister's actions with a man she did not know –therefore, had yet vetoed. Unlike her sister, Alexa had a much friendlier and easy-going nature. She could connect with people and lull them into a comfortable conversation within moments.

"This is naught but a harmless flirt, Artemis," Diana replied gently. "Your sister is not the simpleminded girl she used to be."

"Harmless? Pah!" the redhead snorted and resumed her glaring. "The wrong man will come to whisk her away and she will follow like the hopeless and useless romantic she is."

Diana bit back a chuckle.

"You underestimate Alexa," she replied with a smile. "I believe she is much more aware of human nature that she lets on. Not to mention, someone has to balance the lack of romance in you."

"I am plenty romantic," Artemis protested loudly, drawing the attention of a few young people. Those who knew the redhead actually sniggered. Artemis silenced them with one heated glare and added: "I just haven't found the right man to be romantic with."

This time, Diana laughed good-naturally. Artemis' parents were wealthy enough with no immediate heir; the redhead had the freedom to choose her future partner. Diana's situation was quite comfortable too, but unlike her friends, she had a brother who would inherit their father's domains, and she did not trust Jason behind the reins. Her own marriage was inevitable if she wished to escape financial ruin. At least, she consoled herself by thinking her father would never force her hand. Hadrian Troy might be one of the most cunning men walking on this earth; he truly did care for his children. Her opinion would be respected should she veto one of his choices. She was after all, according to his own words, the most sensible one.

"Diana?"

The dark-haired girl blinked and realized her friend had been talking -and she not listening.

"Pardon, I was lost in thoughts," she admitted with a guilty smile. "You were saying?"

Artemis rolled her eyes.

"At least three-dozen of peacocks have been eyeing you like hungry hyenas. I know you have noticed them and yet, you have given no encouragement? You enjoy dancing far more than I do."

Diana chuckled.

"I am not in the mood for a dance," she admitted. "Jason was inclined to go if only to flirt with the ladies and Donna never misses an opportunity to enjoy music. Persephone stayed at home to tend to Lyla, poor thing."

"I thought I haven't seen Mrs. Troy around." Artemis admitted.

A few years after their mother's passing, Hadrian had remarried with Persephone. Lyla was the only child their union had produced so far, and the most fragile one. Diana loved all her siblings, but in truth, she felt a little more protective of the youngest of the tribe. Jason was a male and Donna…well, impulsive and lively Donna. Lyla had health trouble from birth and everyone doubted the poor girl would live past her seventeenth birthday.

"This one is bold," Artemis muttered fast enough for Diana to catch sight on one of said peacocks marching towards them. His name was Ernest something, a minor aristocrat from the neighborhood. They had spoken before, so formal introduction were therefor unnecessary.

"Miss Troy, Miss Bana-Mighdall," he greeted them with a formal bow. "Will one of you ladies agree to be my partner for the next dance?"

His offer was mainly addressed to Diana, both ladies knew it, but Diana was, as she had told her friend earlier, not in the mood.

"I have yet recovered from my previous dances," she replied smoothly. "But Artemis here is free and willing."

The young man's smile became tense. Artemis glowered before her lips twisted into a cruel smirk.

"Of course," she purred, and the stare she sent to Diana meant: 'You will pay for this'. She held out her arm as propriety demanded and her unfortunate dance partner took it reluctantly. The couple moved to the floor and for a brief moment, Diana amused herself by watching the poor man wincing under Artemis' lack of dancing skills. A few moments later, she decided to find better means of distractions and left the main ball room.

It wasn't the first time she found herself in this odd state of mind, restless and frustrated. She knew what made her edgy though; her father would be leaving with Jason to meet some of their business partners and introduce him as his successor. Although she had done much more for their father over the years and had a deeper understanding of their work, as a female, she was not invited. Not to mention, Jason was horrid where trade was concerned. It wasn't quite his fault, he had just inherited their mother's impatient temper –according to their father –and lack of judgment when it came to monetary affairs.

As she had come to visit the Bana-Mighdall household fairly often, she knew the place like the back of her hand and was familiar with the staff. The rare maid or footman she came across greeted her with the recognition of a familiar guest and none interrupted her course. Her feet led her to the library where she could hopefully find something more entertaining than gossip. The Bana-Mighdall matriarch liked her, so she doubted she would get in trouble for wandering there on her own.

Diana glanced at the rows of books, skipped over their titles, their languages. She could speak and write English, Greek, French and a little Spanish so far. Had they have the spare money, she would have asked her father for further instruction in the Asian part of the world. She stopped by a Chinese-written book, caressed its back with envy. One day, she would be able to read it –and perhaps speak it. Once she had the time and the resources…

"It is certainly rare to see a young woman neglecting a party in favor of books. Then again, you are one peculiar woman, Miss Troy."

Diana nearly jumped, startled. She had thought she was alone. The tall, dark-haired man standing by the end of the row, indicated otherwise. A lifetime of manners was thrown out the window when she recognized him.

"It is even rarer to see a man such as you neglecting women at said party." Unless he had sought refuge here to flee said women. Diana knew how vicious and tactless they could be when hunting for a partner. But that man never had qualms about wooing anything wearing a fluffy gown.

"If Shim'Tar thought I wouldn't try to escape the ball part of her evening, she is a fool," he replied with a slightly mocking tune. Diana blinked in mild surprise; not many dared to speak the first name of the formidable matron, head of the Bana-Mighdall family, so carelessly. "I don't do parties unless necessary."

"Why did you come then?"

The man smirked and shrugged.

"I have enough survival instincts to know one does not decline the invitation of Shim'Tar of Bana-Mighdall. As my presence has been noted, I now privilege a quieter environment. What about you, Miss Troy? Are you hiding from unwanted suitors again?"

Her cheeks burned and butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the memory of their first encounter. She did not let him intimidate her.

"I will leave you to your own company, Mr. Wayne."

He chuckled.

"The library is a big room."

"Not big enough to fit your ego," Diana retorted, and immediately blushed in mortification.

Bruce Wayne of Gotham was without a doubt one of the richest men in the country. His family owned a wide range of companies in trade that had prospered over the years. While he had no title to his name, he had considerable influence in the first and second circles of society. She had met him a little under a year ago and their first encounter had been overly humiliating. Although she had desperately wished to avoid him, they always seemed to be running across each other, no matter where she went. And Diana could live with it, had he not the skill to make her forget her upbringing with his simple presence. Persephone would be horrified by her behavior. Her father…would probably laugh it off. That would probably be worse.

Mr. Wayne took a few steps closer, grinning even wider.

"My, my, do you turn ever feistier every time we find ourselves alone?"

Diana refused to back up and stiffened her shoulders.

"Says the man who seeks me out first," she spat coolly. "If you were honorable at all, you would stay away from me."

His growing smirk angered her. They were alone in the library. Should they be discovered by a third party, rumors might arise upon her reputation. Not to mention, stood far too close to be polite. She was briefly remembered of the first time they had been alone –standing so close –upon their very first meeting. She had been suffocating then, overwhelmed by his presence. She wished she could say the effect diminished in time.

"Your pupils are dilated and your breath is hollow," he described her reaction with his deep, suave and seductive tune. "Your cheeks are turning a lovely shade of pink and you won't meet my eye. Tell me, are you remembering our little encounter?"

She glared at him, refusing to agree or disagree. He would smell a lie and she was no good liar. Yes, he infuriated her, but there was something irresistible about him too. She might dislike him, but she was no blind fool either. He was the most arrogant, insufferable man she knew, yet at the same time, the most intelligent, entertaining and handsome one too. Not to mention, as she had once tested, his kisses were tantalizing.

"You seem to distrust my word and yet I speak truly; you are one of the handsomest woman of my acquaintances," he went on. The appraising look he gave her shouldn't affect her senses the way it did. "In other circumstances, I might have tried to seduce you."

"And you won't?"

The words escaped her before she could stop them. She didn't know whether she sounded relieved or annoyed –and that irritated her too.

"I won't," he confirmed with a firm nod.

"Why not?" she blurted without thought.

Much to her horror, she sounded almost…hurt. He looked amused again.

"Would you rather I pursue you?"

Diana opened her mouth but thought better of it, in fear of speaking something she didn't mean. What was going on with her?

"You are right; that is a futile question," she said coldly. "I believe you are the very last man I would ever be interested in sharing my life with."

His smile faded slightly and a contemplative glint appeared in his eye. Diana turned around and left the library, hating that she didn't actually wish to hear his reply.

Ten months ago

Every gentleman in town had an office in the marketplace. Bruce Wayne's products were in display in a small but efficient magazine, held by his godson Richard Grayson. The young man was absent, as the note 'will return shortly' hanging on the door indicated, but Bruce pushed the door opened far too easily.

That was the first indication that something wasn't quite right. He had taught Dick about security and granted, at this hour, not many people wandered in the shops, but he ought to have known better.

Unless…

He entered and closed the door as quietly as he could muster. No-one in sight the main room. His shoes were made by the best shoemaker in town, also had the most silent soles installed upon his personal request. He erred closer to the back, where he thought he heard a very faint noise. The door to his personal office was half-opened. He pushed it further –thankfully the hinges didn't make a sound, and was greeted by an unexpected sight.

There was indeed someone inside. It was a woman, her back turned to him, busy staring at the display of brochures on his desk. The design of her coat and the rich green fabric suggested she was no commoner.

"What are you doing here?"

She jumped, startled, and turned around. For a brief moment, Bruce was stricken. Wide dark eyes stared back at him, red pouting lips parted in surprise. From the traces of youth on her face, he deduced she could not be over twenty.

"I –I apologize," she said, and god, even her sultry voice sounded like a siren's call without even trying. "I was being pursued by an unwanted suitor, and when I saw the opportunity –I just hid in here. Mr. Ludendorff is very persistent."

Ah, he thought, the infamous Ludendorff. The German ambassador was a retired general looking for a wife. His position and privileges made it hard for people to rebuke him. The young lady standing here would be an adequate prey and, if he suspected her rank correctly, then she had been right to hide instead of speaking back.

"Your name?" he inquired.

"Miss Diana Troy, of Themyscira," she replied with a small bow.

"Any relation to Lord Hadrian Troy?"

He assumed she would be a relative; 'Troy' wasn't a common name, and dark hair and olive skin like hers was rarely found in the country. He knew the man by reputation, a Greek expatriate who had somehow landed in England a few decades back, an eccentric aristocrat who skillfully "dabbled" with trade. He never had to personally interact with the man, but he was not looking forward to the opportunity, should it ever happen.

"He is my father," she replied. Bruce nodded. "I hope my presence here will not offend you. I just wanted to wait a little until he was gone."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at her. Miss Troy shifted uncomfortably on her feet but met his eye without blinking. Did he have any idea who he was?

"I have to admit, I am surprised," he said with a hint of an amused smile. "Hiding in my office? Have you not heard of my reputation?"

The young woman blinked twice, finally seemed to spot the name 'Wayne' written in bold on the brochure's cover, and blanched. Ah, so she had.

"I did not have time to think," she said, a little more insistently. "I went to the closest unlocked place I found. I had no idea this was your office, Mr. Wayne."

She sounded so innocent he was more than willing to believe her.

"Well, it is," he replied, definitively amused. "And since I feel in gracious mood, I will not mention this encounter."

She narrowed her eyes. A suspicious glint appeared, as if she was already suspecting he had something in mind.

"What do you demand in return?"

Not so naïve then, he concluded, pleased. He already knew what he would demand of her. Those lips were calling to him.

"A kiss."

This time, etiquette was thrown out the window as she goggled at him in disbelief.

"What?" she blurted boldly.

His smirk only increased.

"A lady such as you…" he stepped closer. "…hiding in a place like this –alone with me nonetheless…" Miss Troy stepped back. "It may raise questions."

Another step closer. Another step back.

"I had no other intention but to escape Mr. Ludendorff's advances," she repeated, a little more sternly. She could not move further because of the wall.

His smirk widened as he stood far too closer than propriety demanded.

"Oh, I believe you. My demand remains a quick taste of your lips, Miss Troy. Quite innocent, I assure you."

"Or else?"

He didn't answer. He wasn't Ludendorff, wouldn't coerce her into giving him a kiss if she truly braced herself against it. But she didn't need to know that. Bruce felt a little guilty as imagined himself in her stead. The building was mostly empty and he had the upper hand –she had been hiding, but if anyone entered, one word from him, and her reputation could be in tatters. While many matchmaking mamas or indignant fathers would press his hand into marriage, he had enough of the reputation as a rake to escape these kinds of situations without personal injury. He read her annoyance and irritation, the powerlessness as her mouth pressed in a thin line.

"Fine," she conceded in defeat. "Will you swear on your name you will not say a word about this to anyone?"

"The devil himself won't know," Bruce promised, and cupped her cheek. He leant forward and brushed her mouth with his. A brief touch at first. Her lips were soft and a floral scent –jasmine? –made him slightly dizzy. When their lips met, he felt her stiffen. She made to reflexively step back but the wall held her firmly in place. He pressed harder. She raised her arms between them. At first, he thought she intended to push him away. He even felt a light pressure from her hands on his pectoral.

No, not yet, he thought, and coaxed her lips into moving against his.

She tasted like honey and sweets and smelt so very good. He moved his hand to rest on her waist and pull her closer. In spite of the layer of clothes between them, he thought he felt her warmth of her body bleed through the fabric. Her forearms and hands were still pressed against his chest, but now her fingers were caressing his suit. He suddenly bit her lower lip, making her gasp and moan softly in surprise. Heat slammed in his loins.

Bruce renewed his kiss with intensity. He suddenly wanted to taste a lot more than her mouth. Her neck for starters. And maybe explore the shy neckline and further down the curve-

He was shoved away violently, nearly tumbling back over his desk. Miss Troy's lips were swollen, her skin red in mortification and shame. She didn't meet his eye when she spoke next:

"That was payment enough I believe."

She sounded breathless. Bruce felt slightly guilty.

"Far enough," he replied once he gathered himself. "I wish you a good day, Miss Troy." The young lady didn't reply but bit her lower lip –discreetly, but enough for him to realize she was actually tasting…his chest warmed at the idea that she might have enjoyed their exchange as much as he had, though she would never admit it. In one of his boldest moves, he added with a cheeky smirk: "May we meet again soon again."

The words snapped her out of her reverie. The young woman huffed and left his office hurriedly. He watched as the green fluff vanished out of the door, and made a mental note to attend every future event she was likely to make an appearance. He wanted to learn a little more about her.

"I assume you have encountered Miss Troy sir?"

Bruce was broken from his reverie by his butler's arrival. Alfred had stood by his side ever since his parents had been murdered nearly twenty years ago. The faithful man had brought him up and protected him from the oh-so many temptations and silver tongues that had showed around the young orphan. He was the only one holding Bruce's absolute trust, and his personal voice of reason.

"Am I that obvious?" he asked lightly. The butler sighed heavily.

"If I may observe, you have a Cheshire cat grin every time you cross the young lady."

"That might be the brandy, or the port," Bruce couldn't help but tease. He did have quite a few glasses of each. His butler rolled his eyes and muttered:

"Do make an offer to her father before she is given away to a lucky soul."

Bruce opened his mouth to protest, to say that he was not actually interested in marrying her, just teasing, but then the idea of her with another man made him frown.

He leant back in his chair, considering Alfred's words, mostly to humor him. Miss Diana Troy was an attractive prospect. Her father was an aristocrat, a rich one to boot –rich enough to give him and his family a very comfortably living, as long as his son didn't invest the family fortune in inadequate affairs. Considering the few conversations he had with the lad, that was an unfortunate possibility.

Bruce also knew she was trained to oversee trade and economics. He thought he had heard rumors about Troy lamenting that his daughter had not been born a son, for she showed far more potential than her brother in the matter of trade. Bruce wouldn't be surprised if Miss Troy didn't have a hand in the recent decisions the man had made.

So she was young, wealthy enough and understood business, he summarized. Her youth and money alone would be enough to convince a lot of men seeking for a wife. The training in trade interested him more. His own father used his mother to oversee some things when he couldn't, and he remembered learning the hand-to-hand basics while watching her work. So yes, one of his criteria in selecting a wife was someone he could rely on in the working domain too.

It didn't hurt that she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever meet. Her passionate eyes, her pride, her compassion and those curves underneath her well-fitting clothes…he had already been privy to the taste of her lips. He would be lying if he said he hadn't wondered how she would look in his bed. Some nights, he had imagined that long dark hair loose on her shoulders, her wide eyes on him as she bit her lower lip, her olive skin on display. She would be shyly expecting him, her body bare for him to see –or perhaps hidden under the covers? But those cheeks would turn pink as he approached, and her mouth would open to greet his, and he would only need one hand to throw the sheets away and reveal her generous curves.

Bruce cleared his throat, focusing back on his main stream of thoughts. He could definitively take her to bed. But could he marry her?

He remembered watching how she smiled, the way her eyes twinkled and the dimples brightening her face. He imagined that smile directed to him, and his chest felt…warmer.

Perhaps he could marry her.

Bruce ran a hand over his face. It was early in the morning, he needed rest. Alfred was just taking advantage of his semi-awakened state to let him indulge in ideas and play with his brains. Still, when he went to bed that early morning, he couldn't help but glance to his right and picture a sleeping Diana curled by his side.

He closed his eyes, almost hearing her breathe, and allowed the imaginary sound lull him to sleep.