The song continued to play. The unmistakeable tune of Staying Alive blared out from the man's pocket. Truth be told, had she been in a completely different setting with a completely different man, she may have started to dance or sing along. The whole moment was unlike anything she had ever been apart of. There, a guy who organised her kidnapping, had a Bee Gee's song as his ringtone. God, save me.

He hadn't responded to her question, in fact he hadn't even responded to the presumable ringtone coming from his pocket. The only thing that had changed since its beginning was that his eyes had drifted away from her and to the lights of the buildings that could be seen through the window behind her. They were still terrifying and they held a rage that sent shivers down her spine. His lips had pursed themselves, almost making it appear as if he had none.

The lack of reply had caused an awkward tension in the air, not to mention the lack of responding to the call. The tension was so thick (only for Rose) that she could have sliced it with a knife. It crawled over her skin. Her head was beginning to form a splitting migraine. There they both stood, one full of anxiety and confusion and the other; full of rage.

In one swift movement he pulled the phone from his pocket. She breathed a sigh of relief as the shrill ringtone ceased, easing her headache. Rose hadn't had enough time in her adrenaline-filled mind to look at him properly. All she had been occupied with was his eyes. The clothes that he adorned were simply put; beautiful. She could tell, through her eye for fashion, the material and colourings were from an expensive brand. His cuff-links, though far away, were sparkling at her. The suit and suit jacket were of a navy blue colour, his dress shirt white and his tie black. They were fitted to his person perfectly and she had no doubt they were custom-made to fit. An odd surge of jealousy bubbled inside of her, this wasn't the time. He was conventionally attractive, undeniably so. The suit making it even more apparent. A real American Psycho, or should she say Irish?

"Good, very good. Bring it to me tomorrow. Don't take your tiiiiime." The last part was sung out in a stream of high pitched nonsense. It almost matched the pitch of his ringtone.

The next moment that occurred had always baffled Rose. Why she'd thought it was a good idea she'd never know. While he was still on the phone, she felt herself jolt into action. The only way to get past his person was to run and jump over the couch. She could do it. She was sure she could.

She was almost there. Oh my god, I'm gong to make it. Her shoe collided with the leather of the couch and she felt her heart leap with hope. Yes. She could see the kitchen.

In one heart-stopping moment a hand snaked around her waist, crushing her. It felt like a snake constricting itself around her. The bones and organs beneath the skin felt as if they were being punched. She was certain there would be terrible bruises. Screaming out at the excruciating pain she felt her head hit the arm-rest of the couch. The Irishman's figure pressed her down, his hips collided with her, pressing down forcefully so that it would hurt. It did, almost as bad as her waist. She lay frozen, his arms were beside her head.

As she looked up at him she felt her heart stop. His face was twisted up into a snarl, those dark eyes keeping her still. He was suffocating her.

Rose jumped back as his face became even closer to her. It was a scene from a nightmare.

"YOU'RE NOT LEAVING!" His face tilted mechanically while he yelled, his eyes were full of madness. They were wide and his mouth was slightly open, an odd and sick smile on his face. His voice had changed from calm to something akin to a storm. It was terrifying.

Rose had stayed there, frozen in place. Her eyes were as wide as his and hers were filled with frantic terror. Her waist and hips hurt so bad she was stopping herself from crying. You're not leaving? Like hell.

"No, no. You're not leaving. Not ever." His voice had suddenly returned to normal, but he breathed "ever" into her face with a snarl.

He was like a rabid dog. He stared back into her eyes with ferocity. His chest was heaving as if he couldn't contain his rage. In one fluid movement, he stood from the couch. Rose's eyes followed his every movement, only able to slightly grasp at the relief- both physical and emotional she felt at his distance. Her heart was hammering so loud she was sure he could hear it.

He began to smooth out his suit with his hands. Adjusting his tie and then slicking back his hair. He sighed dramatically. This couldn't be real. What kind of deranged person was he!? Rose was in danger, terrible danger. Why had he had her kidnapped?

Pain was all over her body now and she couldn't bring herself to move. She wanted to crawl up in a ball. She couldn't, though. He was watching her. His eyes weren't looking away or even blinking.

The sound of his neck cracking as he rolled it brought her back to reality. Then, all was still. Neither of them moved. Neither of them made a sound. It was a stare-off. Rose was sure of it. Not like those silly games she used to play. He was trying to assert the fact that he was the most powerful one in the room. That what he said was true.

Rose kept her eyes opened. The dimly lit apartment made it seem as if the Irishman's eyes were truly black in colour. Like two pits within sockets. He had hunched his shoulders slightly and his head was slowly moving forward while his eyes remained un-blinking on hers. The sight was terrifying. It was something out of a true horror movie. This all was.

Rose was admittedly surprised at her ability to continue staring. His eyes unnerved her so much she had assumed she would look away immediately. She didn't though. They were playing the game and she was determined to win. Rose didn't fail to notice the way his eyebrows shot up in surprise, only briefly. No one probably challenges him. No one. She wouldn't doubt it if he had them killed, so why was she doing it?

Oh no. Please no. It was already building up in her right eye. The green one. It was so irritating. Some kind of dust had found its way into her eye. He could tell this too. Those thin lips of his began to form into a barely-there smirk. Damn him. Rose's eye began to water and she had no choice but to simply blink it all away. As her blurry vision began to clear she saw he was grinning triumphantly now. Prick.

"Now that that's settled... MORAN."

Almost immediately, she head a voice come from down through the kitchen. She recognised it. Anger built up inside of her and she sat up, peering over the couch. You fucker.

There, 'Sebastian' stood, arms folded over his chest and looking at the man. His jaw was clenched, he was angry and exasperated. What right did he have to be angry!? Did he not see me on the couch. He was the one that kidnapped her. Sebastian didn't even pay her any mind. Rose was enraged beyond belief.

"Tie her up at the table. Opposite to me." The Irishman's voice was lazy and nonchalant about his request.

Tie me up!? Rose nearly considered making a run for it again but she knew there was no chance. Not with two of them in her way. It all seemed to happen so quickly, a pair of large hands gripped her forearms and hoisted her up over his shoulder. Rose cringed at the feeling of her bruises having more contact, it hurt so badly. They were walking past the kitchen. Each little jolt and step was causing his shoulder to collide with her hips and waist. It was tempting to scream, but for what? As she opened her eyes while they were walking, she caught sight of the Irishman. He was walking behind them with a cocky swagger. Each step he made seemed to be entirely graceful. How could someone so terrifying be so graceful? She didn't miss the grin on his face either, it had turned even more sinister. He was fixated on her face, his eyes searching her.

They suddenly entered another slightly less dim-lit room. Glancing up she saw more skylights. She was suddenly dropped to her feet, a gasp coming from her. One of Sebastian's arms held her in place while he fidgeted with something. She wasn't interested though. She was too fixated on the enormous black marble table before her. It surely could fit at least fifteen people on it, if not more. All of it was spotless, no scratches and it was polished to perfection. It had matching chairs and they all had white satin cushions adorning them. Her mouth was agape at the sight.

A deliberate screeching of a chair brought her back to her present situation. The dark haired man had assumed his seat at the far end of the table, the head seat. There was a bowl in front of him, placed over a grey mat, filled with some sort of fruit. He was watching her again. His head was tilting side to side, as if he were a shark swimming or a snake dancing. Sebastian grasped her again and forcefully shoved her into a chair, the one directly opposite him. At least there was a far distance across the table.

Rope encompassed her wrists to tie her at the arm-rests and soon her ankles were tied as well. Rose waited until Sebastian was in full sight of her to truly glare at him. He showed no qualms though, he merely stared straight ahead at his...boss? As she began to fidget the rope started to burn her wrists. There goes that idea.

Since there was no response from Sebastian, she managed to force herself to look at his boss. He had a grape pinched between his fingers, he was slowly applying pressure until it punctured the fruit. It's juices ran down his hand and onto the table. He popped the fruit into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he looked pointedly at Sebastian, an amused smile on his face.

"Off you pop."

Immediately, Sebastian left the room. Rose couldn't be sure but she thought she heard him mumbling under his breath. Something like "annoying Iris prick" and "assassination". She didn't want to know. Rose almost hoped Sebastian would either get in trouble with his boss or he would hurt his boss. At least she could find a way to enjoy the murderous thoughts she was having about the both of them.

"Do you know my favourite similarity between grapes and humans?"

The question almost had her laughing. What the fuck was this? His face was relaxed, yet his head was turned sidewards, waiting for an answer. Did he actually expect her to reply? Remembering when he yelled, how terrifying it was, her mouth went dry. There was no chance to escape now. Good one, Rose. She was too vulnerable to not reply, she was quite literally tied up at the moment. Fuck.

"I don't know... they bleed?" It seemed like a similarity an insane man would enjoy.

An amused and boyish grin had formed its way onto the man's face. Jim hadn't thought of that. This little woman was already proving to be quite the handful.

I'm

"No... nice try, though. My favourite similarity is that you can -" He paused, picking up a grape and pulling back a piece of its skin with his fingernail. "- skin either of them and they die."

A feeling as if a cold ice bucket had been poured over her body enveloped her. She had no doubt he wasn't lying. The way he had said it was so casually. Skinning... people? Though he was being truthful, she had no doubt, he was also trying to scare her even more. Why else would he ask? In one daring moment she decided she wasn't going to accept that.

"It's good thing you're a human, then..."

Slowly, very slowly, a menacing smile formed on his face. His fingers gripped the edge of the table, she could tell his knuckles were going white. An odd growling sound was coming from within his chest, like a feral cat. It took her a moment to realise that the growling was actually laughing. A humourless laugh. One that she could never try to replicate. It was terrifying. His body was shaking lightly while he chuckled. Suddenly he stopped, his head shaking from side to side.

"No, no. Don't try to threaten me. I mean, I know I'm a gentlemen but that won't stop me from sowing your mouth shut."

With that, he threw a grape down the table lazily, making small noises as it hit the expensive surface. Rose watched it slowly come towards her person, eventually bouncing into her lap. At least she now had something to fixate her eyes on other than him. It was bruised, withered and small. It was a bad one. One that she knew would taste bitter and inferior to the others. Rose scowled as she realised what he was doing. He was implying that she was just like the grape. It was another game. Rose has had enough.

"Who the hell are you?"

There was no way he could be a random guy from the street. All of the expensive things he had were an indicator of how rich he was. Rose also didn't believe he lived in the apartment permanently. The walls were devoid of any decoration and only minimal furniture could be seen. He spoke of murder like it was nothing, as if it was a simple gesture everyone joined in on. He was a criminal, even before she had been kidnapped. Though, he seemed much more dangerous than most criminals she'd known. He was so much more... demented. It was as if he wasn't really human. Perhaps he was a psychopath.

"Oh, you know. Budding rap artist, tryna' make it in the big world and all that. Eminem doesn't know what's coming." His pale hand came up to make a 'West Coast' sign.

Rose couldn't help the chuckle that she tried to suppress. Sarcasm was obviously one of his strong suits- no pun intended. She was mostly chuckling at the absurdity of the situation and his personality. It was screwed up.

"You're a criminal. You murder people, or you have them murdered. What else?"

That seemed to be the right thing to say. His downcast eyes flickered up to meet hers. Intrigue swam within them, they were wide with curiosity and excitement.

"Pray tell, have you ever known anyone you wanted to...disappear?"

"Yes." You. Rose didn't say that out loud though. The conversation was getting interesting now.

"Pay me a million and you'll never see them again." His eyes glanced down to the bowl of grapes and then back up to look at her. "Jim Moriarty, consulting criminal. That's what I do, for smaller... clients." Moriarty grimaced at the term clients.

So many clients. The small ones were the worst. All of their enquiries the same. All of their stories the same. All of them were so boring. Especially the small ones.

Rose allowed herself to press her back against the chair. Her heart was thudding in a steady pace, her pulse in her ears. It was there that she truly realised just how dangerous he was. Consulting criminal. He had people murdered, taken away, tortured for money? It made sense, given his expensive materialistic items. What could he possibly mean smaller clients? What did the big ones arrange? Her mind was reeling. Was he responsible for big crimes? The ones she bore witness to on the news? Terrorist attacks? Sebastian's comment on 'assasination' made sense now. Horrifying sense.

Jim Moriarty. The name was dignified. If she was to hear it spoken after this moment she knew that it would represent absolute danger to her.

One thing still wasn't making sense to her though. If he did all these things for people with money, why was she there? As far as she was aware she hadn't pissed off anyone enough to leave her in the 'lovely' charge of Moriarty. Perhaps her manager, Bryan, but that had only happened in the morning and he didn't have a million to his name. Rose flickered her eyes up to Moriarty's face, he was now looking away, his eyes weren't focused.

"If.. if you do these things for a lot of money-" Rose attempted to ignore his disgusted facial expression at her saying a million was a lot of money, "then why am I here?"

The question hung in the air. Moriarty made a mischievous chuckle, popping a grape in his mouth and chomping down violently. It had been the wrong thing to say somehow. Dread began to creep its way under her skin as he stood from his chair, taking short strides towards her. The way he moved was almost mechanical, he was moving with a purpose yet his eyes held none. Rose had been fidgeting the whole time with the rope around one of her wrists. She was attempting to wriggle her way out of them. She knew she was bleeding, the small pieces of rope were digging more and more into her skin. Rose was so close, one more twist and she may have be able to let her hand free. She managed, only just, in the last few steps Moriarty took towards her she finally wriggled her hand free. The pain was unbearable, as if her wrist was on fire. Adrenaline pumped through her. Think logically, Rose.

He would have a gun on him. A criminal who made people disappear would have to have some kind of defence on his person, even with his security. Moriarty was becoming painfully close. The scent of peppermint and cologne invaded her nostrils. He was looming above her, staring down. His crutch was practically in her face now. Oh, how she wish her leg was free instead of her hand. She would love to knee the bastard again.

If he was carrying a gun it would be along his waistband somewhere. Rose beamed brightly up at him as he watched her, catching him off guard slightly. What was she staring at? Rose took this opportunity to dare. Her hand shot out and fumbled until she grasped the cool metal of a gun on his right side. His body twisted in surprise and she felt the expensive fabric of his dress shirt against her knuckles, it was like silk; it probably was silk.

"Whoa-oh! Ladies and gents we have a winner!"

She pulled the gun out from its place and pointed it directly onto his stomach, pressing as hard as she could. His facial expression was odd. Instead of being frightened or scared he looked…excited and surprised. A smile was forming on his face, etching its way up like a drawing. He needed to be locked up.

"If you wanted to touch me, darling, you only needed to ask." Moriarty's drawl sent rage within her.

"SHUT UP!"

Rose was seeing red, everything came washing into her. It wasn't just the occurrence of the day she'd had. It was everything, everyone. Her whole entire life. She was tired, so tired of being the victim of everything. Rose wanted to be the winner for once.

She looked up to her kidnapper's face. The expression was still one of excitement and amusement. Moriarty's eyes were shining much more than she'd seen them previously. He was probably getting off on this. Did he want her to shoot him? She hated him. God, she hated him. Why was he doing this to her?

Before she had time to even process what she was doing, her hand flicked off the safety. Feeling the trigger and the weight of the gun empowered her. Digging the gun harder into his stomach, she held her breath. Goodbye Jim Moriarty. Rose pressed her finger down on the trigger and then –

Nothing. A simple click. The gun was empty.

Moriarty didn't waste any time going in for the kill.


Thank you so much to the reviews/follows I received for the first chapter, they were incredibly kind. I do intend to place more Moriarty and Sebastian scenes in this one. Also, just to note, I am attempting to write Moriarty's character as deranged as I see him. Therefore, nothing about Rose and himself will be entirely healthy or normal and there will be a lot of abuse in later chapters. Please let me know whether Moriarty is too OOC or not, I would appreciate any feedback I can get! Thanks again.