Ransom Drysdale: Manipulation

Sleepless Night

His father stared at him, not surprised Ransom had gone that far, but surprised at the regret that was now written all over his sons face. "What did you just say to me?" He knew exactly what he said, but he wanted to see if he retracted his statement or kept fighting.

"Never-mind. I'm going to bed." The old Ransom would have pushed the argument to its breaking point, to the point where the toxicity was almost deadly. But he didn't. He gave up and walked away. Withdrawing his accusations and heading to his room.

Richard sits back down. Shocked at Ransom's retreat. Had prison changed his son? No. Prison he had spent time plotting, working out, keeping to himself. It was Hermione that was changing him.

But Richard didn't know about this. He just figured it must have been his time in prison. Ransom himself couldn't even fathom how in such a short time this girl was planting her hooks in him, planting a seed.

She had done in a few days, what Ransom's family had tried, and failed miserably, to do for several years. Twist Ransoms coldhearted ways and make him find who he really was. His family had given up. Maybe that's why they never succeeded. They gave up, because they never truly believed in him. That was the difference in Hermione and his entire family. She actually believed in him.

Ransom shut his door and sat on his bed. He sat for a moment to clear his head. Shaking off the effect Hermione had on him. Trying to, at least.

He changed into boxers and got under his covers, ready to go to bed. But he can't sleep. He lays in his bed staring at the ceiling. Thinking about what Hermione had said. Every aspect. Every theory. Every word. Terrifyingly accurate.

He wanted to continue his plan. He was going to. But he had changed it slightly. He couldn't kill her. He'd have to revise that part. He didn't know how. But he would try like hell to figure it out. She was the only one in his life who every truly believed in him. If he killed her, he'd have no one.

*

Hermione too, couldn't sleep. She wasn't naive. She knew Ransom had something up his sleeve. But she believed everything she had said to him tonight. She did believe in him. She trusted him. She just needed him to see that he doesn't have to live in fear anymore.

She needed Ransom to trust her. She had millions of dollars, using about 200k a year between rent, clothes, food, essentials, and then making it all back, and them some, from her business and her books. She lived a simple life.

The least she could do was pay Ransom well. She had more money than she needed. She wanted a house, a family. But from where she's sitting it doesn't look like that'll be happening.

So she decided to pay him, well over what any other employee would have been making. She decided to pay him two thousand dollars. A week. Anyone else in his position would only make eighteen thousand a year.

But because it was Ransom, because it was Hermione being to one paying Ransom, he'd easily make almost a hundred thousand a year. Depending on the profits she makes from the novel she writes about him, he'd make a hell of a lot more than that too.

She was setting him up. Giving him everything he needed. As long as he worked, as long as he kept going down the path he was. Away from the murder, away from the fear, the manipulation, the plots, then she'd continue to pay him more than he should be earning.

Hermione was kind hearted. She seemed to have found a charity case. That's how everyone would think of the situation. That Ransom is Hermione's charity case. They didn't know that she saw him as so much more. But they would know. As soon as she publishes her ongoing story.

*

Ransom was still unable to shut his mind down, to fall asleep. Hermione was peacefully asleep, letting her artistic mind rest. Eager to wake up and go to work, to continue writing.

When Hermione wrote about Ransom, everything just flowed. She never wanted to put her computer down. She was fascinated by him, and it didn't hurt that he was incredibly hot.

Her unconscious mind fantasizing about the dashing man she could't stop thinking or writing about. His mind, fantasizing about her as well. But his- were conscious thoughts. Aware of every imagine his mind was procuring.

He let his dirty mind wander. He thought she was ravishing, perfect. Half of him wanted to throw away his plan and just make her swoon for him, because he wanted her too.

If circumstances were different, he would. If he didn't really need the money, if hew weren't completely broke, he'd throw his plan out and just go for it.

He convinced himself against it, figuring to make her fall in love with him, he'd have to sleep with her anyway, so it'd be a win, win. He could get a taste of what he so desperately wanted.

But he could still keep his guard down. He would use her for sex and money and she could write her story and fall in love with him. He didn't feel too bad about the new plan, because she'd be using him in a sense as well.

He finally drifted to sleep, but Hermione woke up after a while, feeling guilty about her dream. He was her employee, she couldn't think like that. And there was no way he thought of her like that.

If only she knew, his unconscious mind, couldn't get enough of her, and neither could his conscious mind. If he woke up and she was right there, he'd act on his emotions. So he was glad when he woke up the next morning alone. Having to take a quick cold shower before going to work.