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SECRET PROLOGUE

ROMAN

R ising from my chair, I picked up my china coffee cup and saucer and strolled over to the window to gaze out on the weak rays of waning sunlight streaming through the gray misty chill.

Turning my back on the various executives who had come to report on my extensive company holdings, I stared at the scene below. The street surrounding Belgrave Square Garden was usually quiet this time of day. A lone figure piqued my interest. It was a young woman. She was dressed in the uniform of one of the local private schools. I watched with amusement as she circled around the park, checking the gates. It was clear she wasn’t allowed inside the private garden. As I watched her try each gate, I found myself hoping she would find one unlocked, curious to see what she had planned.

Eventually she found an unlocked gate. As she glanced around her to check if she was being observed, I caught my first glimpse of her face.

She was enchanting.

Her pale heart-shaped face was surrounded by thick waves of mahogany hair with hints of gold highlights. I couldn’t quite make out her eye color, but I just knew they would be bright and expressive.

I leaned forward and looked to the right as she crept into the secret garden.

Ignoring the droning of my executives, I sipped my coffee and watched her pick the perfect spot. It was under an ancient oak tree. Its strong trunk shielded her from the worst of the winter wind. She reached into her backpack and pulled out what looked to be a mini piano keyboard.

I set my coffee cup aside and opened the window.

Soon the dramatic, somnolent opening strains of Beethoven’s ’Moonlight Sonata’ drifted over me.

Even on such a poor excuse for a musical instrument, it was clear the little beauty had exceptional talent.

“Stop talking,” I demanded over my shoulder, not taking my eyes off her.

In the ensuing silence, her piano music washed over me. It was like looking into her sweetly innocent soul. Seeing her head bent over her tiny piano keyboard as she fervently played banished the winter’s gloom. It was as if her very presence radiated warmth and light all around her.

I was drawn to that light. Craved it.

Soon, my executives, sensing the meeting was over, filed out of my office one by one, leaving me to gaze alone upon the enchantress in the garden.

I listened to her play for over an hour. When she was finished, I watched as she slowly packed up her belongings. Turning, I pressed the intercom button on my phone.

“Yes, Mr. Winterbourne.”

“There is a woman leaving Belgrave Square Park. I want her followed.”

“Yes, sir. Is there anything in particular you want to know about her?”

Her beautiful face turned up to gaze at the looming buildings that surrounded the park, as if she sensed she was being observed. I knew because of the purple and orange reflection of the setting sun that she wouldn’t be able to see through the glass window.

She wouldn’t know I was the one watching her.

“Everything,” I responded. “I want to know everything about her.”

To be continued…

Vicious Games, Book Five.