Clara looked up from the piano. Her father touched her shoulder, "That's beautiful." She smiled at the dark hairs man with the clean-shaven face. His white polo shirt made his broad shoulders look even larger. It was noon and he was sipping at a large glass of orange juice.
"Have a late night?" she mused as she flipped open another music booklet to the first page.
"Umm," he mumbled sipping his juice to avoid the question.
"Please tell me that she is gone at least," she commented, getting her fingers ready to play the next piece. Her father was a billionaire playboy, and that was being generous.
"I'm sure that I have no idea what you are talking about," he retorted kindly at his beautiful daughter.
Bruce Wayne looked at the beautiful child who mirrored him so closely in everything except for his eyes. She had her mother's eyes, bright vibrant blue eyes that complemented her dark black hair that curled slightly. He watched her hands fly over the piano as she started to play again and marveled at the talent she had. An idea came to him.
"I'm holding a fundraiser next month," he said.
She nodded, her body keeping time with the music, "I know."
"Why don't you play for us that night?" he asked, waiting to see her react.
Her hands slowed to a stop and she turned to him, "Really?" she asked with a smile. Bruce nodded, "Yeah, not all night obviously, because your my date. You will be my date right?"
Clara smiled and nodded, "Of course. I have to keep the women of Gotham from taking advantage of you."
Bruce chuckled, "You know, some papers think that I take advantage of them."
She laughed and brushed him off, "Go away. I have to practice."
Bruce nodded and left his daughter to practice. Clara smiled as she started to play again, picking up were she had trailed off.