What Kind of Man || Jim Moriarty

Thirty Eight

The next morning, Katherine awoke and picked herself up as if the day before had not even happened. She got up, showered and dressed, before going down to breakfast as usually. She walked into the dining room and the spread was already laugh out on the large table. Moriarty was already in his seat at the head of the table and she took her normal one, to his right.

"Good morning." Her voice was light, no sing song too it. Just plain. She didn't make eye contact with him though, leaving him gazing up at her, fork raised.

"Morning." Jim dropped the utensil onto his plate and sat back, half with frustration, half in awkwardness. "Katherine?" She gave a small hum of acknowledgement as she reached for an orange, leaving him to continue. "I'm sorry." Honestly, she hadn't been expecting a further apology after the previous afternoon but she hid her surprise, picking up her knife.

"You're not forgiven." She left him sat, not really knowing what to do.

Minutes past, but it was only when she was half finished her orange, he reached out to her.

"Katherine." As soon as his fingers brushed her wrist, she wrenched it out of his grip and slammed the table.

"Are you going to hit me again?" The action seemed to shock him. It appeared to surprise him. For just a second, Jim's eyes widened as he watched her but apart from that he barely moved.

"Katherine. Please..." She didn't listen. She didn't have the patience to listen to him at that moment. So Katherine stood from the table, looking down at him.

"I'd like to go shopping today, with or without your so called body guards." Her hands were shaking as she thought of what he could do to her for speaking in the manner that she was. He could easily repeat his actions. He could stand and throw her to the grown. He could crack her skull. He could scar her much worse than Samson or any of his men had done. But he never stirred. Jim simple watched her, trying to hold back a proud smirk in fear of it scaring her. But he was proud of her and he wished her could tell her how much so. For she was standing up for herself, to the one man who was the real danger. And he knew if she could do this towards him, she could do it to anyone. It hadn't been on purpose, his response to her snooping. He had cracked, overwhelmed with fear of what she'd heard, but it had brought out the best in her. His little ace in the hole. "I'm leaving after breakfast. I don't care if I'm in danger or not, I'm going."

Before she had the chance to leave his presence fully, Jim spoke loud enough to make her pace hesitated and slowed. "I'll ask for a car to be brought around." She stopped then and looked at him. "May I come with you?"

"I do not care. I leave at 10, if you have a need to be in London you may come with me." Her snarl was beautiful. It warmed him in ways her smile never could. Jim watched her leave, the sway of her hips exaggerated with anger and then, only when she was out of ear shot her called out, summoning the sniper who was lingering near by.

"Sebastian..." He felt the precedes enter the room behind him. "Take her wherever she wants to go. Watch her back. And don't say no to her." The girl deserved a treat. He'd admit that. But he would not admit, even to himself, whether he was rewarding it out of proudness or guilt. "If she comes back with one hair out of place, I'll hold you solely responsible."

"Of course, boss." Sebastian nodded and then left to get her his men, picking out the best to escort Jim's girl into central London.

She was the one. Jim knew it for sure as he turned the butter knife in his hand. She was the one.

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Dead on ten o'clock, the car pulled up outside of the house. The town car manned by a driver and Sebastian, behind them what a large Range Rover; surrounded by four bodyguards. Jim really was being protective today. Katherine mused with the idea as she collected her bag from the head butler.