There was no hiding here. And no hiding from that man.
Which meant that her usual tricks to avoid facing the reality of someone’s desire for her wasn’t going to work. And Sasha had no other line of defense. She was, and was going to be, quite literally screwed.
And Sidney didn’t want to watch.
Or have Virtue—via Sherlock—watch either.
“If my arch-nemesis has found himself entangled with the woman, Imustknow.” Only Sherlock Holmes himself could sayarch-nemesisin a completely unironic way and not have it sound laughable. Mostly not laughable, anyway.
Sidney still rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t mean he has feelings for her, or vice-versa. It just means there’s a mutual attraction, that’s all. They have an itch to scratch.” Now she was convincing them both of that.
So what if Sasha wanted to bang the hot villain? That was fine. She was going to bang the hot hero. As long as her sister wasn’t going to be stupid enough to getattachedto the monster who was trying to get one of them permanentlymurdered.
“It is still something I wish to know. And her life may be in danger. He entered the premises an hour ago, and has yet to leave, and she seems aware of his presence but—” He broke off.
“What?” She looked over at him. He was using the binoculars, peering through the darkened window across the street.
By the way his cheeks flushed red, followed by his neck, she had her answer.
God damn it, Sasha.
What have you done?
The flat wasdark when she walked inside and shut the door behind her, throwing the latch and locking it. There was no noise. She half expected there to be music playing. Lights on. Anything. But there wasn’t any sign of Moriarty inside.
Her first instinct was to call out. But that wasn’t the game he was playing, was it? Heading down the hallway, her heart was racing, thumping in her ears so loudly it almost drowned everything else out. She expected him to come leaping from the darkness at any point to grab her. Each passing second just added to the excruciating anticipation of it all.
That was the point. Wasn’t it?
In the living room, she lit a few candles, casting some light to see by. She ignored the gas lamps for now. She hated the smell. And the candles seemed…more suitable, for what was going to happen. Still, she saw no one. No sign that he was inside. No figure lurking in the shadows that clung to the corners of her rooms.
What was she supposed todo…?
Heading to her bedroom, her hands were trembling as she let her hair down and put the rose on the dresser. Going behind the changing screen, she started to undo her gown, folding it and placing it over the edge of a chair. She opted for her silk dressing gown and nothing else.
If he was inside her flat, anything else was bound to get ruined.
She expected to hear footsteps. An evil laugh. To see his silhouette against the thin paper of her changing screen. Something.Anything.
But there wasnothing.
Maybe he was truly playing the ultimate game with her. Making her believe that he was in her flat when he had simply unlocked the door, placed the rose, and left. What a prank that’d be. But her heart was still lodged in her throat as she stepped around from behind the screen and…
Nothing.
No Moriarty.
She was shaking like a leaf.
Walking through her rooms one more time, she searched for him—and found nothing. If he was there, he’d found a very good place to hide, or was doing a brilliant job of staying out of her way.
Adrenaline was like every emotion. It couldn’t last forever. After a while, it burned itself out like all the rest. After what seemed like hours but was probably little more than five minutes, her shoulders fell away from her ears. Her pulse was just starting to calm down for the first time in maybe that entire hour.
He wasn’t there.
Why was she…disappointed?
No.
This was a good thing. He’d saved her from a terrible mistake.
Turning to head back toward her bedroom, she blew out the candle.
A hand grasped her by the throat and squeezed.
“Good evening, Irene…”
