A Pawn for Malice(7)

By: Cynthia Roberts

Jessica watched, as her Aunt placed her cell down and moved away, still calling for her butler, who was more like family, having been of service for nearly twenty years. Jessica drew in a slow steady breath again to calm her quivering nerves.

Florence was right. There was nothing more she could do, or wanted. Wilton was never her home, as much as she tried to desperately make it so. She could hear her Aunt’s footsteps and saw her smiling face, as she picked up her cell.

“You’re all set, Jessica. The jet will arrive at Bangor Airport tomorrow at 7:45 a.m. and will fuel up right away. You should be in the air by 8:30. Remember, just bring a few things. We can buy whatever else you need once you’re here. I love you, dear … very much. Let me help you get back on track and start anew. Do you remember Sen. Gallagher?” Her Aunt didn’t give her a chance to reply, as she continued. “Well, he remembered you, as brief as that meeting was. He very much wants to talk to you about the vacant position in his office. He desperately needs someone and right away.”

Jessica couldn’t help but whimper, “Oh, Aunt Florence! What would I do without you? Thank you. Yes, please let the Senator know I can’t wait to do just that.”

“No need for thanks, Jessica. I love you like a daughter and can’t wait to have you back home. See you tomorrow, dear. Now go pack and rest up.”

Jessica blew her Aunt a kiss and ended the connection, letting loose a deep sigh of relief. Her Aunt’s encouraging words of support gave her a sense of renewed hope. She felt rejuvenated, as if she could conquer anything … even escaping the clutches of her controlling father-in-law. She looked at her wrist watch. It was too early for dinner, but she had not eaten all day. She went to the kitchen and scrambled about for something quick to prepare and managed enough ingredients for a small salad and sandwich.

Once her belly was full, she knew that lying down for a nap was not an option and decided on a long hot shower instead, and turned, climbing the stairs to the second floor.


The hot, pulsating water from the shower head massaged her aching muscles like the fingers of a masseuse. Jessica rested her forehead against the shower wall. She could feel the tenseness in her shoulders relax, as the water drummed on her flesh. The strain of the day’s events slowly melted away and she moaned blissfully.

Her skin glowed a soft pink, and as she scrubbed herself dry, she opened the door leading into the master bedroom. She jumped and shrieked with fright, when she noted Hal standing in her room. Her eyes darted to the window. It had to be the only way he could have entered, and then she realized it was closed and they were two floors up.

“How the hell did you get in here?” She bellowed, gripping her bath towel tighter about her nakedness.

Dear God! The look of ravenous hunger reflected in his eyes struck the worse fear deep in the pit of her stomach. She could feel the nausea slowly rise in her throat and looked about quickly for a means of escape, but there was none. She was trapped and she gulped fretfully as she side-stepped to the left. His stare was intense, as he gawped at the soft swell of her breasts peeking out above her towel. She adjusted it quickly and side-stepped again, when he moved forward, reaching out for her.

He raised his other hand, swinging a key on a single ring, with a self-assured look, that pissed her off.

Her eyes flamed with hatred. “Where do you get off coming here like this?”

Hal sprinted forward and his fingers grazed along the curve of her shoulder.

Jessica slapped his hand away, dove for the bed and rolled clear to the other side. Her breasts rose and fell, as she fought to quell the fear threatening to consume her.

Hal’s gate was slow and deliberate and his eyes gleaned with destructive intent. “Aw come on. I think it’s time you show a little thanks for everything I’ve paid for all this time.”

Jessica wanted nothing more than to slash his handsome face to shreds.

“You, bastard! Have you no remorse? You just buried your son, and now you’re trying to bed his widow. You’re pure evil!” She spat vehemently.

Hal smirked and placed a knee atop the mattress.

He waved her comment off, as though it were trivial and replied. “He was worthless and careless.”

Jessica knew he wasn’t a man to take lightly. Despite his sixty-four years, his money helped keep him lean and hard of muscle. He was a devout runner and worked out daily with a private trainer. Except for the distinguished grey coloring his temples, one would think him to be a man in his early fifties.

She slowly moved backward, until she felt her nightstand grace the back of her knees. She reached behind and slowly retrieved a pair of scissors she had left lying there earlier after trimming her hair. As she watched him move his hand to his pant zipper, she held them like a hammer out in front of her, so she could draw them back and drive them into his gullet or slash out in any direction like an expert swordsman.