He was a supervillain, brilliant and ruthless. For James Moriarty, fortune and power had become so easy, it was boring. But not for long. Now the Great Game was getting interesting.
Annabelle Watson didn't have a clue how important she was in his p...
As Annabelle and Meg left the kitchen, they were both startled as a figure dressed in black came out of the shadows.
Meg held her chest and fumed. "Soo-Ling, you're supposed to be patrolling the grounds. What are you doing here?"
The beautiful woman's eyes narrowed as she stared at Meg. "I'm sorry I scared you. I just wanted to meet our new guest."
Soo-Ling's eyes traveled up and down Annabelle's body. Feeling extremely uncomfortable with the perusal, Annabelle ran her fingers through her disheveled hair, knowing she must look a sight after the helicopter ride.
Clad entirely in black leather that outlined her perfect body, Soo-Ling's long, black hair was swept off her face into a tight ponytail that hung down her back. Her hands casually touched the guns that rested in the holster on each side of her slim hips.
Soo-Ling smirked when Annabelle's eyes came back to hers, knowing she had properly intimidated Moriarty's newest acquisition.
"If you ever need anything, please don't hesitate to ask." She smiled sweetly, but Annabelle could see the smile hadn't carried to her eyes.
"Thank you, Soo-Ling," Meg said tight-lipped. "That'll be all."
Soo-Ling bowed slightly and walked around the corner.
Meg stared after her. "Now you've met Soo-Ling," she said, shaking her head. "She's supposed to be taking care of the security around the estate. No doubt she's looking to get her claws into Sebastian now that he's back. She's already tried with James."
Annabelle thought about Soo-Ling sliding her hands up and down Moriarty, and for some reason, it bothered her. "I take it you don't like her."
Meg pursed her lips and sighed. "Come, dear."
From the kitchen, they walked down a long, wood-paneled hallway. Meg chatted about the workings of the house and the different responsibilities of the few who resided there. Annabelle tried her best to listen, but her attention was drawn to the paintings of various scenes that hung on the walls. Meg hardly noticed as Annabelle stopped to stare at one of the paintings.
"Annabelle?"
Annabelle's brow furrowed as she looked at the scenes of war and death, painted in the Renaissance and Neo-classical styles. She wandered from one to another, marveling at the beautiful, but terrifyingly graphic violence depicted on the canvases. Each one told a story, and each one increased the gloom that settled over her.
Meg walked back and stood beside Annabelle as she too stared at one of the paintings showing a rider on horseback about to slay a man begging for mercy.
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