Chapter 27 : Whispers and Rumors
The first sign was Terry's expression.
"Boss." He stood in my office doorway, two weeks into my relationship with Selina, looking like a man who'd drawn the short straw. "We need to talk."
"About?"
"About people talking." He closed the door behind him. "Word's getting around. You and the cat."
I'd expected this. Two weeks of spending time together, of being seen in each other's company, of not hiding. The Gotham underworld ran on information—secrets didn't stay secret long.
"What are people saying?"
Terry settled into the chair across from my desk. "Mixed bag. Some think it's a smart move. Catwoman's got respect—she's been working this city longer than most of us have been alive. Alliance with her looks like strength."
"And the others?"
"Think you're distracted. Vulnerable." He met my eyes. "You've got someone to protect now, boss. Someone who can be used against you. That changes the calculation."
He wasn't wrong. Before Selina, I'd been dangerous because I had nothing to lose. Now I had something precious—and that was leverage for anyone smart enough to recognize it.
"Who's talking?"
"Usual suspects. Some of Maroni's people—they're still sore about the Marco thing. A few independents who were hoping to move into your territory once you slipped. And..." He hesitated.
"And?"
"Alberto called. While you were out. Said he wanted to talk."
Alberto Falcone. My ally—the first real power player to take a chance on me. His opinion carried weight.
I called him back within the hour.
"Darek!" His voice was warm, theatrical. "I heard congratulations are in order. They say you've tamed a cat."
"I wouldn't say tamed."
"No, I suppose not. Selina Kyle isn't the type to be tamed by anyone." A pause. The warmth cooled slightly. "Listen, my friend. I'm calling as an ally. A friend, if you'll permit me."
"I'm listening."
"The underworld talks. You know this. And what they're saying about you right now..." He chose his words carefully. "Some see your new relationship as a sign of confidence. A power move. But others see it as distraction. Vulnerability. A man with something to lose."
"And which do you see?"
"I see a man who's been smart so far. Who built something from nothing and earned respect doing it." His voice hardened. "I also see a man who needs to remind people why they fear him. Love is wonderful, Darek. Fear is better business."
The call ended with pleasantries, but the message was clear: show strength soon, or face the consequences of perceived weakness.
I spent the afternoon thinking.
"Alberto's right. The underworld doesn't reward sentiment. If I look soft, people will test me. If I fail those tests, everything I've built starts to crumble."
The solution came to me by evening.
I called Terry back in. Then Marcus. Then Big Pat.
"Tomorrow," I said, "we do a show of force. Full crew. Every protection client, visited in person. Payments collected, presence established. I want everyone in our territory to see us—disciplined, numerous, professional."
Terry nodded slowly. "Making sure people know we're still strong."
"Making sure people remember what happens to those who forget."
The operation took all day. Twenty-three men moving through the Narrows in coordinated teams, visible and imposing. I visited key clients personally—Mrs. Chen, the larger businesses, the ones whose opinions shaped the neighborhood's perception.
Nobody missed the message. The Broker's operation was intact. The Broker was still dangerous. Relationship status didn't change that.
By evening, the whispers had shifted. Still present—you couldn't stop gossip—but tempered now with reminders of what we'd built.
Selina found out that night.
"Heard you threw a parade today," she said, appearing on my warehouse roof as the sun set.
"Not exactly a parade."
"Twenty-three men? Walking your territory in formation? Collecting payments like a conquering army?" Her smile was knowing. "Sounds like a parade to me."
"It was necessary."
"I know." She crossed to where I stood, looking out at the city. "People are talking about us. Making sure they remember you're still scary."
"Does that bother you?"
"That you have to project strength because of me?" She considered. "A little. I don't like being anyone's weakness."
"You're not my weakness." I turned to face her. "You're my partner. There's a difference."
"Some people don't see it that way."
"Some people are wrong."
She smiled—that soft expression I'd learned to treasure. "You're sweet, Broker. Don't let anyone hear you say things like that."
"Our secret."
We stood together, watching Gotham's lights flicker to life. The city was still brutal, still dangerous, still full of people who would exploit any vulnerability. But we'd weathered the first storm of public knowledge.
"Does it bother you?" Selina asked eventually. "People knowing about us?"
I thought about it. The whispers. The calculations. The way every criminal in Gotham was now evaluating whether our relationship made me stronger or weaker.
"No," I said finally. "I'm not ashamed of you. Of us. Let them talk."
"And if someone tries to use me against you?"
"Then they learn why that's a bad idea."
She laughed. "Romantic."
"Practical." I pulled her close. "I didn't survive everything I've survived to let gossip determine who I love. If people think you're my weakness, they're welcome to test that theory."
"Confident."
"Realistic." I kissed her forehead. "You're not a liability, Selina. You're a force multiplier. Anyone who doesn't see that is underestimating both of us."
She was quiet for a moment. Then: "I love you."
The words hung in the air—simple, devastating, everything.
"I love you too," I said. And meant it.
We stayed on the roof until the stars appeared, holding each other against the cold, two criminals in love with the city sprawling indifferently below them.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges. It always did.
But tonight, we had this: each other, and the knowledge that whatever came next, we'd face it together.
The whispers could continue. Let them talk.
We had better things to do.
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