"You seemed happy at my choice to come here," Bruce said when they walked into their chateau later on that night, "I take it you've been before?"

They'd enjoyed a long afternoon and most of the evening drinking different types of wine and indulging in rich, homemade Italian dishes that didn't seem to end. They sampled pastas and arancini, a board of sliced cured meats and cheeses as well as thin-based pizzas and a seafood platter so fresh they were sure it had been caught in the ocean that very same day.

There was certainly no room for dessert, Carla shaking her head even when Bruce suggested they split an affogato.

They drank more wine however, eventually deciding to take the last bottle back to their room to enjoy while it was still bearably warm outside. The chateau was old, pale stone with two floors and a small terrace above a patio. There were five other properties spread out across the land owned by the vineyard but the privacy made it feel like they were alone with the stars, seeing nothing but fields from the windows.

"A few times," Carla replied as she pushed aside the net curtains covering the doors to the terrace upstairs.

"With Francisco?"

She turned over her shoulder to stare once the doors were open, looking back at Bruce who stood idly holding the ice bucket with their wine bottle inside and two glasses held upside down by their stems.

"Yes," she said simply, "Why?"

He shrugged and nodded for her to go ahead, following her lead and setting the wine down on a small wooden table with warm yellow lights shining down from the walls, an iron railing terrace squaring around them.

"No reason."

Bruce grabbed a blanket from the end of the bed inside and handed it to Carla, who said nothing in return while she unfolded it and wrapped it around her shoulders as Bruce sat down opposite her.

"Are you jealous?"

He smirked and poured them each a glass of wine, "Not at all, just curious."

Carla pursed her lips and picked up the glass, "To answer your question, yes. I've been here with him once."

The idea of Carla being there with someone else didn't bother Bruce. It didn't make him cringe to think about her with another man, to imagine someone else sitting opposite her while she drank wine beneath the Sicilian sky, at least he didn't think it did.

"He still likes you, if you couldn't tell. He couldn't keep his eyes off of you the other night."

Carla shrugged with a cocky smile, "Of course he does, what's not to like?"

Bruce scoffed and relaxed into the chair, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle at her confidence, regardless of how justified and how right she was in her statement.

There was silence for a few moments while they gazed out at the infinite stretch of vineyard that surrounded their chateau. It was just as beautiful inside as it was out, antique furniture with a contrasting stainless steel kitchen, modern fixtures and fittings mixed with luxurious silk pillows and throws, old artwork that had been framed and couches upholstered to match. It felt homely yet refreshing, however almost eerily quiet since from where they were, there was no sound of the ocean crashing against the rocks like at Giulia's.

"Do you still like him?"

Carla was taken aback by the question, albeit not entirely. She hadn't felt any jealousy from Bruce when they were out with her friends the other night, but his keen nature that day hadn't gone unnoticed to her, nor did his prying questions.

"What makes you think that?"

She looked at him, poker faced as always, trying to gauge his reaction and work out his mind before he told her himself. She'd gotten quite good at that over the last few days, noticing his amusement at her wit whenever he stared at her with a smirk or the way he'd always touch her after crinkling his eyes ever so slightly.

"Because you let him call you by a nickname. I think you'd slit my throat if I tried that."

She tilted her head and swallowed a mouthful of wine before slowly setting the glass back down, "Is it so absurd to you that I might have a heart beneath here?"

A hand over her chest made Bruce smile, "Oh I know what you've got under there, but I don't recall it being a heart."

She rolled her eyes and immediately stood up, turning to walk back inside with the intention of grabbing the tray of chocolates that had been left on a dresser, only obviously letting Bruce sweat with her swift dismissal, never really being irritated by his words at all.

It worked like a charm and he grabbed her wrist before she could pass him, her head turning back with her hair sweeping over one shoulder as she looked down at him. He held her there, not loosening his fingertips around her arm.

"So if I did call you something else, you wouldn't try and kill me?"

Carla just stared at him, "That depends on what you'd call me."

Bruce smiled. Her skin was bright in the white glow of a crescent moon dangling amongst the stars and it seemed to cast its light upon only her, a pale shadow falling behind her on the ivy-laced walls of their chateau, almost as if she had wings.

"Angel."

She scoffed and sighed, "I'm far from an angel, Bruce."

"Maybe so," he grinned, his thumb now grazing back and forth across her smooth skin, "But you look like one. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Carla didn't doubt Bruce's words - regardless of how sleazy they might've sounded - and that was because she was convinced he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. He looked like he had been carved from stone, sculpted from precious marble that took years of precision and sweat, a life-long devotion to creating something so elegant, so exquisite.

She had never met anyone like him before. Cisco was stunningly handsome without a doubt, but Carla had never craved him the way she'd craved Bruce, she'd never thought about how he'd kissed her or how he'd touched her, how her name sounded coming from his lips or the way his scent lingered in her hair and on her skin after waking up beside him.

Carla was captivated by Bruce, and although the thought of a man having power over her was sickening, as she looked down at his enticing lips and lust-filled eyes, she chose to not fight back.

Bruce smirked and pulled her down onto his lap, grabbing her legs and letting them stretch out across the arm of the chair before he pulled the blanket tighter across her shoulders and over her legs, shielding her from the cool evening air.

She didn't argue or tense against his willed movements, letting him position her on his lap however he wished. The attentiveness of him covering her with the blanket didn't go unnoticed and she would've smiled if she was a different woman, but she kept her face complacent while his hands roamed across her shins and her back.

A white feather fluttered down from thin air and landed amongst Bruce's dark hair. Carla instinctively reached up to pick it out, holding it by the quill and twisting it in the moonlight before letting the breeze float it away.

He watched silently, noticing her gentle hands and considerate action, something he was sure she would never have done for him a month or two before then. Progress showed itself in small ways like that, her willingly touching him, being comfortable in his hands and even smiling every now and again, too. 

"I have to fly back to Gotham tomorrow," he said regretfully, "There's some business I have to take care of at Wayne Enterprises, it's time-bound so I don't have much of a choice."

There was a small pit that formed in Carla's stomach at his words, a depth that opened up and pulled her soul down away from her heart, though her face remained unchanged.

She shrugged, "You were never supposed to be here anyway."

Bruce chuckled, "I'll send the jet back for you on Monday, pick you up from the airport and take you home."

Carla had never expected Bruce to make such an extravagant offer, but she had never been one to turn down luxurious things and so, didn't bat an eyelid at the gesture, as if it were almost to be expected.

"You mean Alfred will pick me up from the airport."

Bruce smiled with tilt of his head, "I think your suitcase can fit in the Lambo, don't you?"

His fingers traced circles across her back while his other hand tickled up and down her shins gently, like he was moving without having to think. Carla noticed it all, though. She noticed how he never took his eyes off of her and how the pressure of his fingertips varied with the warmth of his words, working like a living, breathing symphony.

"I meant what I said, by the way," he continued and cleared his throat, "About what I want when we're both back in Gotham."

His gaze moved slowly between her eyes and her red lips and Carla unwillingly found her heart thumping harder, hot beneath the thin linen of her clothes at the way his thoughts began to pour from his hazel eyes and confident touch.

A breeze whistled and tousled their hair and the frayed edges of the blanket. Carla reached up and brushed a strand of Bruce's hair out of his face, her hand curving gently against his temple and staying there, drawing slowly down with soft fingertips running over his jaw and his lips.

"We're not there yet," she whispered, "So what do you want right now?"

The flag was perhaps the greenest it had ever been and Bruce didn't wait to leave the start line, kissing her hard as she held his face in her hands. He felt her smile against his lips and in turn, he grinned too, hands gripping her waist and lifting her up into his arms before walking back inside.

Bruce lay her down on the bed and kissed her again, arms either side of her shoulders as he hovered above her and enjoyed the feeling of her touch roaming his chest and tugging at the buttons of his shirt, dancing through his hair and down his sides.

"You know exactly what I want, Carla," he breathed lowly, kissing her once more before turning her onto her front.

There was a huge mirror with a brushed silver frame sitting against the wall by the bed, reflecting not much more than shadows and the glistening of jewellery and eyes in the pale moonlight that followed them through the open doors.

Bruce knelt over her hips, brushing her dark hair away from her back and twisting the clasp that held the dress together at the nape of her neck. He leant forward and kissed her bare skin softly, teasing at her neck and across her shoulders while he listened to her breathing turn heavier.

The thought of touching her, of feeling her all over him again made it impossible for Bruce to hold out any longer. He eased her up onto her knees, her back pressed against his chest before slipping her dress over her head and throwing it across the room. His hands instantly fell to her waist, roaming across her chest and her hips while he kissed her neck roughly.

Carla let her head fall back against his broad shoulder, one hand curving up behind her to rest on the side of his neck when his fingers pushed aside the thin silk of her panties and dared to graze her core, teasing for just a second before he slipped a finger inside of her and felt her tense against his chest.

The room was silent except for the ragged breathing coming from Carla's lips and an occasional whimper, though she dug her nails through Bruce's hair in attempts to control herself, even though that started to become almost impossible by the pleasure he filled her with.

His other hand held her jaw, turning her head to place a kiss on her parted, desperate lips before leaving her empty and letting her fall onto her knees before him, back arched and eyes dark in the reflection of the mirror, a wicked, sultry smile staring right back at him as he lost his shirt and kicked off his trousers.

The sight of her was heavenly, ready and waiting for him to do whatever he pleased, however he pleased. Carla was a powerful woman and Bruce was insanely attracted to her fierce nature and cutthroat force, but having her perfectly poised all for him made an ego blossom in the darkest part of his mind.

Carla watched in the mirror as Bruce stroked himself in his fist, teeth sinking into her lower lip as he positioned himself by her, slipping inside of her with little resistance and forcing her knuckles to grip the sheets with white strength.

Bruce moaned in pleasure at the feeling of her around him again, a sensation he'd been chasing subconsciously day and night since the first time they'd slept together. His hands held her hips as he fucked her hard, jaw tensed as he watched her mouth fall open and her lashes flutter in the mirror.

Carla gasped when his fingers curled through her hair, pulling her up with her back arched and a hand around her neck, turning her jaw to kiss him once more. She moaned against his lips and clawed at the veins in his arms, tears welling in the corners of her closed eyes while he continued to fuck her deeper, harder with fingers gently squeezing her throat.

It was quite possibly the best fuck she'd ever had, at least that's how it felt in the moment. Carla was being worshipped by Bruce, regardless of the dominating hands and roughness of his hips against her back, he held her in place and kept her safe, kissed her like he'd never wanted anything more in his life, desperate to touch every inch of her and pleasure her to the point of losing her mind - which is exactly what he did.

Bruce's low hand brought Carla to a climax within minutes, sending her moaning his name with her knees weakening beneath her body, though his strong arm kept her sturdy against him while he followed her lead a few seconds after, whispering her name like a prayer against the side of her neck, sweat coating their skin while the night air cooled them through the open doors.

They collapsed onto the bed, lying side by side for a long moment with their eyes fixed on the ceiling and their chests rising and falling. The room fell silent again except for the wind sending the curtains sweeping against the wooden floors and crickets chirping in the gardens below.

Carla almost jumped out of her skin when she felt Bruce's fingers intertwine with her own, turning her head to look at him through the darkness. He squeezed her hand and tugged on it lightly, coaxing her to shuffle across the bed closer to him.

"Come here," he whispered, opening his arm for her to lay against his chest.

It was perhaps the most intimate they'd ever been and something about the interaction made Carla afraid. Sure, they'd kissed and they'd fucked, but there was something deeper about lying with him afterwards and having his body warm her own, being held like he wanted to keep touching her, if only innocently.

She was tense at first, but steadily calmed herself down, her breathing starting to slow and her hand resting across his chest, one leg pulled across his torso at his hips. There was a vulnerability in that moment that made Carla turn ice cold, very aware of the fact she was naked with a man and they were no longer in the act.

Part of her still felt like she didn't know Bruce very well, yet as she felt his lips press a gentle kiss to her temple and then again across her brow, she felt safe to relax in what she did know about him.

Bruce tilted her head up with a finger beneath her chin, their eyes meeting in the moonlight and his gaze searching to see if she was alright. He didn't have to ask the question out loud for her to understand, nor did she have to reply, her fingers creeping across his arm to wrap around his palm giving him his answer and carving a smile onto his lips.

"What do you say to a third date?"

Carla breathed in to wipe away the urge to smile, "Will it end the same way this one has?"

Bruce laughed silently and kissed her lips, pulling her tighter against his body, "I can make every day end like this one has. You just say the word, angel."