[fic] The Love Pawn - "Checkmate"
Oct. 10th, 2021 01:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
konstantyaTitle: Checkmate
Fandom: The Love Pawn (Short Story)
Genre: Drama, romance, horror?
Characters/pairings: Paula Ingram/Red (Jack Delafield)
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,205
Summary: For a sick moment, reality tilted, then snapped back into place with horrifying clarity. “You!” she gasped. “You, Red, and the butler, Benson, are the same! You got that place in my home just to find out about me, didn’t you?” (Expanded scene from the short story. As before, you can find more details in the pre-fic notes of this story.)
So yes, this is an expanded scene from the original story. The dialogue remains almost entirely unchanged, along with the actual action(s), but I beefed up the surrounding prose (mostly because there was so very little of it to begin with).
If you’d like to leave a comment, please do so on AO3!
Standing at last in the long, severe dress of heavy white faille, Paula’s eyes gleamed mischievously. She was beautiful, she knew this, and now looked veritably like the unopened sheath of a lily bud. Dismissing the maid, she turned proudly before the mirror, kicking aside the little fishtail train that swept the floor. The gown was demurely high in front, but low to the vanishing point in the back, revealing the smooth shoulders that hours with dancing masters and on horseback had given her. Luxuriously, she stretched in the stiff silk. Her disdainful young bandit had said he had no place for girls in his life, so why not give him an eyeful? It was the least he deserved, after what he’d done.
A small cough came from the door. “Dinner is served, Miss Paula,” said a familiar, crisp voice, just as a tall, familiar, black-haired butler appeared behind her in the mirror. He was dressed in immaculate evening clothes, and she spun around, surprised.
“Benson!” Benson, the substitute butler, who had worked in her home on the off days or when the regular man was ill. Automatically, she had started to rush over, but then she suddenly stopped short. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. The hair was different, but the face… And the voice, that strange ringing voice she hadn’t been able to place, that sometimes cracked like a whip, sometimes stroked her like a caress. For a sick moment, reality tilted, then snapped back into place with horrifying clarity.
“You!” she gasped. “You, Red, and the butler, Benson, are the same! You got that place in my home just to find out about me, didn’t you?” Being that he was a servant, she had never bothered to look at him closely, but now… She backed up a shaky step as the full weight of the situation settled on her like a nightmare. Good God, how long had he been working in her house? Months, at least, maybe even coming up on a full year by now. Which meant he’d been planning this even longer. “But—” she sputtered, “the red hair—”
“A red wig is the best disguise I know. People hardly look further than that.” He took a deliberate step into the small room, his hands clasped behind his back, those slate-colored eyes riveted on hers. “And yes, I know a lot about you. I’ve watched you come and go, listened to your telephone conversations. I’ve seen you going reluctantly to Monty Lewis’s arms, and take his kisses coldly.”
A combination of fury and fright rose in her, and she managed to get out from between clenched teeth, “You cad!”
He inclined his head sharply. “Forgive me,” he said, though he didn’t sound particularly sorry. “All part of my game.” He took another step forward, and Paula instinctively matched it to keep the distance between them. But then she halted, very aware that the guest bed was behind her and very much not wanting to be backed up against it. He’d said he wasn’t interested in women, but how could she be sure? How could she possibly trust anything he’d said, now that…
Slowly, he advanced, and came to a stop right in front of her, mere inches away. “It’s obvious you don’t love him,” he said coolly, of her fiancé. “And after this, you’ll never go back to him.” His glance appraised her figure in the taut, silk dress—the dress that just minutes ago had seemed like such a good, rebellious idea and now seemed like a ghastly mistake. Defensively, she brought her arms up in front of her, feeling so horribly exposed—by his eyes, by his words, by everything. Red’s expression fell derisively in response.
“Oh, I’ve seen you in all sorts of garbs,” he said, “in riding breeches, in lacy negligee. I’ve stood so close beside your chair when you dined, I could have laid my lips to your quivering shoulder.” He leaned closer, and his voice dipped to an arrogant murmur. “I’ve even had intimate glimpses of you, through half-opened doors, all dewy from sleep, cuddling against satin pillows before your breakfast in bed.”
Paula stood, dazed, a warm riot of feeling coursing through her, powerless to move as he placed a palm, tinglingly magnetic, on the smooth skin of her bare back. For a long moment she just stared at him, fearfully waiting for his hand to pull her flush against him, for his mouth to descend ruthlessly on hers, but it never happened. Instead, Red merely went on speaking, his face intensely close and his words dangerously quiet.
“You see, I could have kidnapped you a long time ago for quite another reason, if I’d let myself go.” His gaze flicked brazenly down to her lips before rising back up. “Luckily for you, my will shuts women out. Getting that money back is my one obsession now!” Abruptly, he took his hand away and brushed by her as he stepped further into the room. An unsteady breath pushed out of Paula, full of relief and…disappointment? She shivered, and turned to watch him as he paced lazily around the meager floor space.
“After the job is over,” Red said, back to his brisk, businesslike tone, “I promise you’ll be safe. No one will suspect you at all. Meanwhile, I shall disappear over the Mexican border. I know a place where neither car nor plane can follow. With a fast horse under me, and a jingle of spurs, I’ll be gone, and you—you will find Eric’s arms waiting for you.” His mouth twisted into a humorless smile. “He is a handsome blond devil, after all.”
After all! A little drearily, Paula’s heart echoed the words. Finally, she tore her eyes away from Red and looked out the one window, into the night. She could do far worse than Eric, that was for sure. He was at least better than Monty. And maybe he wasn’t a millionaire, but he did well enough for himself. He’d certainly always have money to take care of her. And if he asked her again to marry him, under a golden California moon like he had before—
“Righto!” laughed Red, tauntingly. “You’re thinking of him right now, and of his love for you.”
Paula whirled, an angry retort on her lips, but before she could release it, the chime of dainty bells sounded. Gravely, Red offered his elbow and arched an insolent eyebrow. “Shall we go in to dinner, milady?”
She hesitated, not wanting to cooperate, but really, what could she do? He’d planned things so thoroughly, escape sounded like a pipe-dream now. And what good would starving herself do? No doubt he’d planned for the possibility of that, as well. Again, there was that strange sensation of being compelled forward by a force greater than herself. He’d called her a pawn earlier, and she’d revolted against it on sheer principle, but it was looking more and more disturbingly true. And there he was, the chess master controlling every move.
With a surreal feeling of detachment, she reached out and carefully took his arm. And with that, he led her out into the living room where a small table was set.
-----
A/N: The original story, partly as a result of its madcap pace and tone, doesn’t really focus on the horror of the situation—learning that the dude who kidnapped you was also spying on you for literal months, and from within the comfort of your own home, at that—but Jesus, that is pretty terrifying when you stop to think about it. So I guess I just wanted to explore that a bit more.
Also, the voyeurism vibes with Red are strong. Just sayin’. 👀
All other fics can be found here.
Fandom: The Love Pawn (Short Story)
Genre: Drama, romance, horror?
Characters/pairings: Paula Ingram/Red (Jack Delafield)
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,205
Summary: For a sick moment, reality tilted, then snapped back into place with horrifying clarity. “You!” she gasped. “You, Red, and the butler, Benson, are the same! You got that place in my home just to find out about me, didn’t you?” (Expanded scene from the short story. As before, you can find more details in the pre-fic notes of this story.)
So yes, this is an expanded scene from the original story. The dialogue remains almost entirely unchanged, along with the actual action(s), but I beefed up the surrounding prose (mostly because there was so very little of it to begin with).
If you’d like to leave a comment, please do so on AO3!
- Checkmate -
Standing at last in the long, severe dress of heavy white faille, Paula’s eyes gleamed mischievously. She was beautiful, she knew this, and now looked veritably like the unopened sheath of a lily bud. Dismissing the maid, she turned proudly before the mirror, kicking aside the little fishtail train that swept the floor. The gown was demurely high in front, but low to the vanishing point in the back, revealing the smooth shoulders that hours with dancing masters and on horseback had given her. Luxuriously, she stretched in the stiff silk. Her disdainful young bandit had said he had no place for girls in his life, so why not give him an eyeful? It was the least he deserved, after what he’d done.
A small cough came from the door. “Dinner is served, Miss Paula,” said a familiar, crisp voice, just as a tall, familiar, black-haired butler appeared behind her in the mirror. He was dressed in immaculate evening clothes, and she spun around, surprised.
“Benson!” Benson, the substitute butler, who had worked in her home on the off days or when the regular man was ill. Automatically, she had started to rush over, but then she suddenly stopped short. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. The hair was different, but the face… And the voice, that strange ringing voice she hadn’t been able to place, that sometimes cracked like a whip, sometimes stroked her like a caress. For a sick moment, reality tilted, then snapped back into place with horrifying clarity.
“You!” she gasped. “You, Red, and the butler, Benson, are the same! You got that place in my home just to find out about me, didn’t you?” Being that he was a servant, she had never bothered to look at him closely, but now… She backed up a shaky step as the full weight of the situation settled on her like a nightmare. Good God, how long had he been working in her house? Months, at least, maybe even coming up on a full year by now. Which meant he’d been planning this even longer. “But—” she sputtered, “the red hair—”
“A red wig is the best disguise I know. People hardly look further than that.” He took a deliberate step into the small room, his hands clasped behind his back, those slate-colored eyes riveted on hers. “And yes, I know a lot about you. I’ve watched you come and go, listened to your telephone conversations. I’ve seen you going reluctantly to Monty Lewis’s arms, and take his kisses coldly.”
A combination of fury and fright rose in her, and she managed to get out from between clenched teeth, “You cad!”
He inclined his head sharply. “Forgive me,” he said, though he didn’t sound particularly sorry. “All part of my game.” He took another step forward, and Paula instinctively matched it to keep the distance between them. But then she halted, very aware that the guest bed was behind her and very much not wanting to be backed up against it. He’d said he wasn’t interested in women, but how could she be sure? How could she possibly trust anything he’d said, now that…
Slowly, he advanced, and came to a stop right in front of her, mere inches away. “It’s obvious you don’t love him,” he said coolly, of her fiancé. “And after this, you’ll never go back to him.” His glance appraised her figure in the taut, silk dress—the dress that just minutes ago had seemed like such a good, rebellious idea and now seemed like a ghastly mistake. Defensively, she brought her arms up in front of her, feeling so horribly exposed—by his eyes, by his words, by everything. Red’s expression fell derisively in response.
“Oh, I’ve seen you in all sorts of garbs,” he said, “in riding breeches, in lacy negligee. I’ve stood so close beside your chair when you dined, I could have laid my lips to your quivering shoulder.” He leaned closer, and his voice dipped to an arrogant murmur. “I’ve even had intimate glimpses of you, through half-opened doors, all dewy from sleep, cuddling against satin pillows before your breakfast in bed.”
Paula stood, dazed, a warm riot of feeling coursing through her, powerless to move as he placed a palm, tinglingly magnetic, on the smooth skin of her bare back. For a long moment she just stared at him, fearfully waiting for his hand to pull her flush against him, for his mouth to descend ruthlessly on hers, but it never happened. Instead, Red merely went on speaking, his face intensely close and his words dangerously quiet.
“You see, I could have kidnapped you a long time ago for quite another reason, if I’d let myself go.” His gaze flicked brazenly down to her lips before rising back up. “Luckily for you, my will shuts women out. Getting that money back is my one obsession now!” Abruptly, he took his hand away and brushed by her as he stepped further into the room. An unsteady breath pushed out of Paula, full of relief and…disappointment? She shivered, and turned to watch him as he paced lazily around the meager floor space.
“After the job is over,” Red said, back to his brisk, businesslike tone, “I promise you’ll be safe. No one will suspect you at all. Meanwhile, I shall disappear over the Mexican border. I know a place where neither car nor plane can follow. With a fast horse under me, and a jingle of spurs, I’ll be gone, and you—you will find Eric’s arms waiting for you.” His mouth twisted into a humorless smile. “He is a handsome blond devil, after all.”
After all! A little drearily, Paula’s heart echoed the words. Finally, she tore her eyes away from Red and looked out the one window, into the night. She could do far worse than Eric, that was for sure. He was at least better than Monty. And maybe he wasn’t a millionaire, but he did well enough for himself. He’d certainly always have money to take care of her. And if he asked her again to marry him, under a golden California moon like he had before—
“Righto!” laughed Red, tauntingly. “You’re thinking of him right now, and of his love for you.”
Paula whirled, an angry retort on her lips, but before she could release it, the chime of dainty bells sounded. Gravely, Red offered his elbow and arched an insolent eyebrow. “Shall we go in to dinner, milady?”
She hesitated, not wanting to cooperate, but really, what could she do? He’d planned things so thoroughly, escape sounded like a pipe-dream now. And what good would starving herself do? No doubt he’d planned for the possibility of that, as well. Again, there was that strange sensation of being compelled forward by a force greater than herself. He’d called her a pawn earlier, and she’d revolted against it on sheer principle, but it was looking more and more disturbingly true. And there he was, the chess master controlling every move.
With a surreal feeling of detachment, she reached out and carefully took his arm. And with that, he led her out into the living room where a small table was set.
-----
A/N: The original story, partly as a result of its madcap pace and tone, doesn’t really focus on the horror of the situation—learning that the dude who kidnapped you was also spying on you for literal months, and from within the comfort of your own home, at that—but Jesus, that is pretty terrifying when you stop to think about it. So I guess I just wanted to explore that a bit more.
Also, the voyeurism vibes with Red are strong. Just sayin’. 👀
All other fics can be found here.
