Seduction

Valeria froze and looked up at Ivan.

“Mrs Ravelle," he began. “I'm not comfortable with you walking around the edge in my presence, if you need some time to yourself then I'll gladly grant that." 

He held her gaze for a brief moment, then she looked down. “I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." 

" Don't get me wrong,” he replied. "I'm really not uncomfortable with you, but with the thoughts that I'm making you nervous.”

Valeria nodded. " I understand, sir. But I'm fine, thank you.”

He studied her a little more, then returned to what he was doing.

Soon, they rounded up and that was the last time Valeria saw him for the day. 

She went to bed that night, wondering why he hadn't stepped outside again.

***

Valeria lay on her side, eyes open, thoughts spiraling. 

Suddenly she heard a muffled sound.

“Don't go!" 

She almost convinced herself she had imagined it, but it sounded like what she had heard before.

Then it came again.

“Don’t go!”

The scream echoed through the corridor, forcing her to sit  up instantly, her heart slammed against her ribs.  It was him. Her boss.

She had definitely heard it before, on his birthday.

“Please— don’t leave me!”

The sound came again, raw. 

Valeria sprang out of bed before she allowed herself to think, she made her way to the hallway.

As she strode toward his room, the door was closed, but the sound of movement inside was loud. She could hear the sound of  sheets rustling violently, like he was fighting something that wasn’t there.

She knocked once, softly, but there was no response.  She turned the handle and stepped inside his dimly lit room. 

Ivan was half upright in bed, sheets tangled around his legs, his hands were gripping the wooden chair beside the bed tightly.

He was pulling at it as if trying to anchor himself to it.

“Don’t go,” he muttered. “Stay.”

Valeria’s heart began to race as she moved closer.

“Sir,” she whispered. “It’s okay.”

He didn’t hear her.

His breathing was ragged, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched. 

She remembered what Dr Kendrick had revealed about his birday, and his nightmares.

The nightmare wasn’t fantasy, it was memory.

“Sir,” she called again, placing her hand gently on his shoulder.

He suddenly jerked violently, the chair slipped from his grip, he tried to grabbed the air for stability.  But this time, he grabbed her, harrd.

His hands locked around her thigh as she leaned over him, fingers digging into the flesh.

The sudden force startled her.

“Sir,  it’s me,” she said quickly.

He didn't hear her, instead, his grip tightened. .His other hand fisted in her night robe at her waist, pulling as though trying to drag himself upright.

He was still trapped in the nightmare.

In his mind, he was holding onto something so it wouldn’t disappear, in reality, it was her.

His fingers dug into her thigh again, firm.

She winced softly but didn’t pull away.

“It’s over,” she whispered, brushing her hand over his hair. “You’re safe.”

He shook his head violently.

“No, no, don’t…”

His hand shifted, still clutching fabric, still trying to hold onto something solid.

The grip tightened, and then a sharp tearing sound. Her robe tore beneath his fist.

One of the upper buttons snapped off, the robe pulled loose.

She gasped softly, her hand flew to her chest instinctively, catching the robe before it could fall open further. 

The robe remained mostly in place, but the broken button left a small gap, exposing the line of her cleavage.

He didn’t notice, because he was still fighting the dream.

He tried to reach for the chair again, but this this time, he grabbed the air and was thrown off balance.

He fell off the bed, the thud of his body hitting the floor was followed by a dull knock as his head struck the edge of the bedside table.

Valeria’s heart dropped.

“Mr Crest!”

He groaned, then his eyes fluttered open.

He looked confused at first, then slowly, he returned to reality.

He blinked up at the ceiling, then turned his head and saw her standing above him. Breathing unevenly.

One hand pressed to her chest, holding her robe closed where the button had fallen off, her hair loose around her shoulders, and her skin above her neckline exposed.

His expression changed from confusion to awareness.

“What are you doing?” he asked hoarsely.

She froze.

“I heard you screaming,” she said quickly. “You were having a nightmare.”

He pushed himself up slowly, wincing faintly as he touched the back of his head, but his gaze did not leave her.

“Why are you in my room at midnight?" 

Her pulse quickened.

“You were shouting,” she repeated softly.

His eyes dropped briefly to her hand clutching her robe, to the visible part of her cleavage, then to the broken button on the floor.

He went very still, but his eyes turned…cold.

“You came in like that?” he asked quietly.

She frowned. “Like what?”

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

“Dressed like that, half naked.” 

Her heart skipped.

She glanced down at herself, suddenly realizing she had pressed down too firmly against her breast, making her cleavage push up fuller.

“I’m sorry," she begun. “You tore it when…you grabbed me.”

His brow furrowed.

“I grabbed you?”

“You thought I was the chair,” she said quickly. “You were holding onto it.”

His gaze flickered to the overturned chair, then back to her, then slowly down again.

To her exposed cleavage.

The look in his eyes changed to suspecion.

“You expect me to believe that?” he asked quietly.

Her stomach dropped.

“What?”

“You just happened to walk into my room in the middle of the night,” he continued, rising slowly to his feet. “And I just happened to tear your clothes?”

She stared at him.

“I heard you scream.”

His voice lowered.

“You’ve heard it before, and yet you came in again.”

“I…I thought you needed help,” she said, her voice faltering now.

His gaze became colder.

“Or you thought I’d be disoriented enough not to question your motive.”

Her chest tightened.

“That…that's’s not fair.”

He stepped closer, close enough that she had to tilt her head slightly to hold his gaze.

“Isn’t it?” he asked.

She could feel her heart pounding.

“You think I came in here to… what?” she whispered.

He didn’t answer immediately, his eyes moved once more to her hand holding the torn torn together, then back to her face.

“You tell me,” he said quietly.

She felt heat and embarrassment rise to her cheeks, but this time it wasn’t fluster. It was disbelief.

“You were screaming for your mother,” she said softly.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

She stared at him.

“I came because I was worried.”

He held her gaze until she looked away, then he stepped back slightly.

“Go back to your room,” he said finally.

She bent slowly, picking up the broken button from the floor.

She placed it on his desk without looking at him, when she turned toward the door, her hand paused on the handle.

“If I wanted to seduce you,” she said quietly, without turning around, “I wouldn’t choose your worst memory to do it.”

He didn't answer.

She stepped out and the door closed softly behind her.

Inside the room Ivan remained standing in the dim light, his gaze drifted to the overturned chair, and then to the broken button.

He exhaled slowly, then moved and sat in the bed.

He was too sure if what just happened, but he was sure she came into his room with a motive.