Seduce Him
958 Words
Raymond was reviewing contracts in his bedroom when Vanessa walked in wearing nothing but black lace lingerie.
He looked up, surprised. "Vanessa, I'm working."
"You're always working." She closed the door behind her and walked toward him slowly, deliberately. "We're engaged, Ray. We live together. But we haven't been... intimate since that night."
Raymond felt his body tense. "I've been focused on the investigation."
"I know. But don't you miss me?" She reached him and ran her fingers down his chest. "Don't you want me?"
Her touch felt wrong. Foreign. Like a stranger's hands on his body.
"Vanessa, not now."
"When then?" Her voice had an edge to it. "It's been two months, Raymond. Two months since I saved your life, and you haven't touched me since."
She climbed onto his lap, straddling him in the wheelchair. Her perfume was overwhelming, expensive and heavy. Nothing like the soft floral scent he remembered from that night.
"We should wait until after the wedding," Raymond said, trying to shift away.
"Why? We've already been together." Her lips moved to his neck. "Or don't you remember?"
That was the problem. He didn't remember. Not clearly. The fever had made everything hazy, dreamlike. He remembered sensations more than details. Trembling hands. A frightened voice. Softness and hesitation.
Vanessa was never hesitant. Never soft.
"Vanessa, stop."
But she didn't. Her hands moved to his shirt buttons, her body pressing against his.
Something inside Raymond snapped.
"I said stop!" He pushed her away, harder than he intended.
Vanessa stumbled backward, catching herself on the bed. Her face went from seductive to shocked to angry in seconds.
"What is wrong with you?"
"I'm sorry. I just... I'm not in the mood."
"Not in the mood?" She laughed, but it sounded bitter. "Your fiancée is literally throwing herself at you and you're not in the mood?"
Raymond ran his hand through his hair, frustration building. "I have a lot on my mind. The investigation, the company, everything. I can't just turn it off."
"This isn't about the investigation." Vanessa grabbed her robe from the chair and wrapped it around herself. "You've been different with me. Distant. Like you don't even want me here."
"That's not true."
"Then what is it? Why won't you touch me?"
Because something doesn't feel right. Because when I close my eyes, the woman I remember from that night doesn't match the woman standing in front of me. Because your perfume is wrong, your touch is wrong, everything feels wrong.
But he couldn't say any of that.
"I'm sorry," Raymond said again. "It's not you. I'm just stressed."
Vanessa stared at him for a long moment, her eyes calculating. "You don't believe it was me, do you?"
"What?"
"That night. You don't remember it clearly, and now you're doubting it was me in that bed with you."
Raymond's silence was answer enough.
Vanessa's laugh was sharp, almost manic. "I can't believe this. I saved your life, Raymond. I gave myself to you when you needed it most. And now you're questioning if it even happened?"
"I'm not questioning anything. The fever messed with my memory, that's all."
"Then let me remind you." She moved toward him again, but Raymond held up his hand.
"Don't. Please."
Vanessa stopped, her face hardening. "Fine. When you figure out what you want, let me know. I'll be in the guest room."
She stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
Raymond sat alone in his bedroom, his heart racing. He wheeled himself to the window and stared out at the night sky.
Everything about Vanessa felt wrong. The way she touched him, the way she smelled, the way she acted. Nothing matched his fragmented memories of that night.
But she'd been there when he woke up. She'd cried, said she'd saved him, agreed to marry him. Why would she lie about something like that?
Unless she was the one who poisoned him in the first place.
The thought hit Raymond like ice water. What if Vanessa had poisoned him, then hired someone else to be his cure, all so she could swoop in and play the hero? What if this whole thing was her plan from the beginning?
He pulled out his phone and called his investigator.
"I need those results on Vanessa Monroe. Now. I don't care if you have to work all night."
"Sir, I'm still gathering information. It takes time to—"
"I don't have time. Someone in my house tried to kill me, and I need to know if it's the woman sleeping down the hall."
There was a pause. "I'll have something for you by morning."
Raymond hung up and locked his bedroom door.
For the first time since Vanessa moved in, he didn't feel safe in his own home.
***
Down the hall, Vanessa paced in the guest room, her phone pressed to her ear.
"We have a problem," she hissed. "He's suspicious. He doesn't believe it was me."
The voice on the other end was calm. "Then make him believe."
"I tried. He pushed me away."
"Try harder. You're so close, Vanessa. Don't lose this now. Once you're married, the money is yours. His company, his assets, everything. Just keep him convinced until the wedding."
"And if I can't?"
There was a long pause. "Then we move to plan B."
"What's plan B?"
"Finish what we started. If Raymond Huxley won't marry you, he doesn't need to be alive."
Vanessa looked at herself in the mirror, at the expensive lingerie and perfect makeup and the cold calculation in her own eyes.
"Understood."
She hung up and smiled.
One way or another, she was going to be Mrs. Raymond Huxley.
Even if she had to kill him to do it.
- Writer
