Priscilla was somewhat well-known internationally, a quintessential daughter of the elite. Rumor had it that she was elegant and noble, both beautiful and gracious, with a heart inclined towards charity. Her donations were vast, and she was considered a sought-after match by political figures and nobility from all corners of the world. A union with her would be a powerful alliance, elevating both parties to greater heights.
Arabella did not sit up immediately; instead, she watched the graceful figure approach from afar. Upon closer inspection of the two siblings, she noticed subtle differences. Perhaps the son took after his mother, and the daughter, her father—after all, they weren't twins. Priscilla's appearance was far from the delicate, innocent type; on the contrary, her beauty was striking, her features deep and defined. She wore a form-fitting dress that was bold and sensual, making her presence radiant and commanding.
Priscilla was undoubtedly the type of bold, captivating, and mature woman.
"George," Priscilla said with a smile. Despite the rumors of George's doting on his sister, his response was cold and indifferent. He stood rigidly, putting his mask back on, and no one could tell what his expression was at that moment.
Priscilla didn't seem embarrassed by her brother's cold response. She shifted her gaze and locked eyes with Arabella, noticing her smiling expression with some surprise. She asked, "George, is this the person you've been talking about, your beloved?"
George didn't directly answer. Instead, he told her in a dismissive tone, "I'm still busy here. If you don't have anything else, you can leave."
Priscilla's eyes shifted playfully between Arabella and her brother. Then, seemingly casually, her gaze lingered on the open neckline of Arabella's blouse, her eyes gleaming with desire. Just as George seemed ready to lose his temper, she gracefully twisted her waist and waved at Arabella, saying, "Good luck. I look forward to you becoming my future family."
Arabella languidly propped herself up on one arm, a smile playing on her lips as she watched Priscilla leave. Then, without a hint of notice, she cast a subtle glance at Priscilla's brother, George, who had been fixated on his sister's departing figure. A trace of amusement flickered in her eyes.
What an interesting pair of siblings.
Perhaps it was because the appearance of his sister had dampened his mood, but after a dinner where he had transformed into a calculating "scheming dog," George, now in a gentlemanly manner, offered to escort Arabella back. She waved it off, saying it wasn't Lately, with little to occupy her time, Arabella had been waiting for Bramwell's update after his trip to Jingle. At this moment, the amusing sibling duo seemed like the perfect little treat to pass the time between her meals.
Not long after leaving the General's Mansion, Arabella slowly veered off the main road into a narrow alley. She walked neither fast nor slow, occasionally slowing her pace as if strolling along the street.
The alley grew deeper with each step, the moonlight of the night stretching her slender, graceful shadow long. When she turned a corner further into the alley, what met her eyes was a lively scene. The alleyway opened on three sides to the main roads, and inside, it formed a T-shaped intersection. This was one of capital's most famous night market pedestrian streets, with a dazzling array of small shops and stalls, a vibrant display of colors and life.
Arabella followed the crowd, her appearance unremarkable and her clothes ordinary. She blended in as if experiencing the simple joys of the common folk. Occasionally, she stopped in front of small stalls, watching the commotion. When others laughed, she laughed along; when they were surprised, she too showed surprise. She appeared no different from the rest, blending seamlessly into the throng.
As Arabella strolled through the night market with great enjoyment, just outside, beneath a large tree along the main road, a black stretch limousine sat silently, waiting. Occasionally, the dark, opaque windows would lower ever so slightly, revealing a hand as delicate as snow, holding a slender cigarette. The glow of the flame flickered in the breeze, sending a trail of ash drifting through the air.
Arabella strolled for quite a while, until the night market closed. People trickled out, still laughing, clearly not ready to leave. The guards at the entrance began to grow anxious, scanning the crowd, but failed to find the person they were looking for. As the market closed and the crowd dispersed, soon only a few stragglers remained, but still no sign of the target.
The guards at the exit grew anxious and immediately radioed those inside, "Didn't you keep an eye on her? Where is she?"
Those inside were even more surprised, "What? We saw her walk to the exit. Didn't you see her?"
The guards at the entrance were puzzled. "Could she not have come out? You guys check inside quickly. I'll ask those guarding the entrance." Upon hearing the news, they discovered that the guards at the market entrance hadn't seen anyone leave. After those inside searched the market thoroughly with no results, the guards immediately rushed to the limousine, bowing respectfully, "Miss, the person is gone."
A soft laugh came from the car, followed by the door opening. Priscilla stepped out of the car. Her long hair flowed effortlessly, though now styled in loose, voluminous waves, casually swept into a half-up bun. She wore a fitted leather jacket, the asymmetrical design accentuating her proud curves at the chest. She was tall, her height only emphasized by long, straight legs that made her all the more captivating.
She glanced at the empty exit, then shifted her gaze back and called out in a clear voice, "Master Unknown! Shall we talk?"
"I'm here," came Arabella's voice, from the side of the car, high above. Everyone looked up, and on the top of a six-story building, Arabella was nearly suspended in mid-air, waving at them.
Priscilla smiled, her smile even more enchanting, with an alluring curve at the corners of her eyes. She greeted with a smile, "Master Unknown, I'm coming up." The guards attempted to dissuade her, but Priscilla's expression hardened. She lifted her head and fearlessly entered the building.
It was an older office building. There should have been a few staff on duty at night, but when Priscilla entered, the hallway was empty. Clearly, Arabella had already dealt with the on-duty personnel. Stealthily, she slipped out and silently crept alongside, knowing that if Arabella had wanted to kill them, they would have all been dead by now.
The hallway lights of the old office building were dim, and Priscilla made her way to the sixth floor, where the entire floor was eerily quiet. Arabella had already managed to break the door to a nearby office. Nonchalantly, she grabbed a swivel chair and sat in it, rocking back and forth as she waited for her. In one hand, she held a glass of fruit juice, bought from the night market earlier. The juice wasn't worth much, and the color clearly suggested it was artificially flavored, but Arabella drank it with gusto, sucking from the straw one sip after another.
Priscilla's gaze was fixed on the way Arabella's lips moved around the straw as she walked with irresistible grace, coming to a stop beside her.
She was tall, with an elegant and well-proportioned figure. While Arabella was not short, she wasn't particularly tall either. But her own proportions were impeccable, and her slender frame gave her a lean, elongated appearance. Sitting in the swivel chair, she appeared almost petite.
Priscilla leaned forward, placing both hands on the armrests, her body bending as if she intended to enfold Arabella in her embrace. The curve of her chest was impossible to miss, a bold display of sexy allure. Arabella watched her with a smile, reclining in the chair as if she were boneless, her eyes locked on the movement before she extended the juice toward Priscilla's lips, her voice laced with amusement: "Thirsty? Want a sip?"
Priscilla didn't glance at the juice near her lips but instead fixated her gaze, bold and intense, on Arabella's lips, and said, 'Would you like to try something else? Is that okay, Master Unknown?'
Arabella smiled and reached out with the other hand to grab the lady's collar, pulling the zipper open and revealing the thin-edged underwear that couldn't contain the two full breasts. The breasts leaped out of their confinement, white and tender, with a powerful impact. Arabella placed the straw along the contour of the breasts, then suddenly pressed the tip of the straw against the protruding tip of the breast, applying slight pressure, which resulted in a muffled groan of discomfort. The atmosphere instantly reached its peak of sexual tension.
'What's this? You want to flirt with me?' Arabella's voice was barely audible, almost a whisper right by Priscilla's ear, making her feel a rush of heat. She tried to move, but was restrained by Arabella's grip on her collar. The straw in her hand has completely engulfed the nipple.
"Mm—though that depends on whether Master Unknown is willing," Priscilla replied, her voice softening involuntarily. She was clearly the taller one, her body pressing down on Arabella's, yet in that moment, as Arabella let out a low, knowing laugh, Priscilla felt a rush of tension, a wave of currents surging beneath her skin. Her heart raced, as though she were the one caught in a web, the one being controlled.
"I'm not interested in women who throw themselves at me," Arabella's voice was cool, her smile framed by the backlight, the streetlamps casting a shadow that highlighted her wild aura.
This is troublesome.
Priscilla, who had intended to seduce, now found herself being played with instead.
A momentary lapse in her focus, and in an instant, the lazy energy around Arabella shifted to something sharp and cold. With a swift movement, she wrapped her arms around Priscilla and pulled her into an embrace, flipping her over and sending them both crashing to the ground. The chair that had once stood between them was reduced to a mass of holes, riddled by a burst of gunfire.
Even in such a perilous situation, Arabella maintained her smile. She gently tapped Priscilla's nose, still held in her arms, and murmured with a teasing tone, "Be a good girl and wait for me." With a swift motion, she kicked a few chairs aside, creating a barricade that enclosed Priscilla in the corner. Then, like a slippery eel, she slid across the smooth table, a burst of bullets following her, the firepower intense.
The gunfight continued below, and after several rapid shots, a chilling silence settled. Arabella knew that their guards had been eliminated, and the attackers were now closing in.
The assault was fierce.
