Iman Avesta

"You look like you're in a good mood."

Aaron stopped. Her green eyes, calm voice, and professionalism couldn't be missed. "Iman. Good to see you."

'I wondered when I'd see you. It felt like you were avoiding me,' Aaron said in his head. Time had passed since the elevator incident yet they hadn't exchanged a word about it. He and Iman didn't work in the same department or area, yes, but right now the building was in a state of chaos. People flowing in and out of departments, being assigned work far removed from their usual stuff. Aaron was meeting new people with every passing day or talking to faces he'd encountered in the halls.

"Yes, well," Iman pursed her lips, "things have been hectic."

"I'm sure it has been for the Director of Human Relations and Analytics," Aaron said. "But you've been doing a great job so far. The public outcry isn't too crazy. I know we have journalists outside but the new security team is doing a great job holding them back."

It had been tough simply trying to get to work. There was a small crowd of reporters at the base of the building fishing for statements and wisps of evidence. Aaron and his coworkers had been told not to engage with the frenzied journalists, not just for the company but for their own sanities too. Reporters were a relentless bunch, annoyingly so.

Iman sighed wearily and shook her head. "From the outside, yes, but inside, well…nobody is happy. The board of directors and the chief of security have been wailing on us about the situation. Even Mr. Wayne's son has been ragging on us."

"Damian Wayne, yes?" Bruce Wayne's son who was brought into the public eye nearly a year ago. The truth of his origins weren't known and there was an unfathomable amount of gossip regarding the identity of his mother. No matter how much the reports dug and rival companies investigated, they couldn't find a speck of dirt on his record. Zero evidence linking to a mother or an orphanage. Besides those in the Bat Family, nobody knew who Damian Wayne really was.

Luckily, after eloping with Cassandra, Aaron was told the truth. Damian was the son of Talia al Ghul, the leader of the League of Assassins, bred through an artificial womb and trained from the moment he could walk. He was handed the best possible training and the highest level of education. The ultimate genes for the ultimate warrior. Cassandra herself was unsure if she would be able to beat him once he grew up. His potential was terrifying and seemingly endless.

"Mhm." Iman's opinion, however, seemed much more tame. "So young but much more…spoken than his father."

Aaron tilted his head and smiled. "What do you mean? Mr. Wayne is the biggest loudmouth in Gotham."

Iman stiffened. He caught her there. Now he could say for certain that she knew more than she was letting on. Bruce Wayne was a bumbling buffoon and for his son to be the same or identically outrageous was expected. Unless, of course, she knew who he really was. The personality he donned behind closed doors.

"Yes, well…Damian Wayne is a different kind of loudmouth. Less playful, more serious."

"I see." There was no taking it back, unfortunately. Aaron had figured it out. He had more or less solved the mystery of Iman Avesta.

"Anyway…" Iman cleared her throat, realizing she was too flustered. "I have to go. See you later, Aaron."

She walked past him, brushing shoulders. Aaron could tell their little session in the elevator was largely forgotten. She likely had an inkling or a suspicion. Maybe a lapse in memory. However, she couldn't confirm it and she was too uptight to ask him if he fucked her brains out.

Aaron glanced back at her ass wrapped in those tight grey pants. 'I'm glad I got to hit it at least once.'

He returned to his cube wearing a small smile. Nobody noticed, especially because nobody was really working. Although this was their first day back, due to the attack, they were allowed to take it easy. In other words, the supervisor didn't feel like doing work either. Wearing a cast on his arm and using a cane to support his back, Aaron had never seen a thirty-year old man more grumpy to be at work.

'Why didn't they just give us a day off? If the supervisor is out of it, then the rest of us are out of it too.' Most of the time, their floor supervisor was a little too chill about things. Oftentimes, they'd be behind quotas because he refused to step it up. But now Aaron understood where he was coming from. The executives and big names of the company gave no fucks about them. He put in the bare minimum because that was what they gave him.

He wished he could text Cassandra right about now. She could always uplift his spirits. Being with her was better than sex; better than Tanya or the White Rabbit or Iman. Alas, it was not meant to be. Neither of them had exchanged numbers since Cassandra literally did not have the ability to text.