In Devil's Hands

Part 3

Jeanette

I woke up surprisingly easily this morning. Everyone was still asleep, and the alarm wasn't set to go off for another twenty minutes. I slipped into the bathroom, took a shower, and looked in the mirror. There was a glimmer in my eyes — longforgotten, but it flickered and died just as quickly as it had appeared.

I stood by the sink for a moment, tapping my index finger thoughtfully against the rim. Then my gaze fell on the threestep skincare set that Irène had given me for the New Year. I chuckled and picked up the case. Well Lets give it a try. The Koreans don't invent just anything.

Ten minutes later, my face was glowing. Yes gold. Gold. Not a woman — gold.

I stepped out of the bathroom, went into the kitchen, and switched on the kettle. I toasted some bread for Lily, generously spread it with jam and sour cream — she loves it that way. The neat triangles sat on her favourite pandapatterned plate with a yellow rim. Cocoa and a few marshmallows. Her morning had to be perfect today.

"Sweetheart wake up," I said, stroking my daughters head and brushing the hair from her face. I've made a wonderful breakfast for you.

She sat up sleepily, rubbing her eyes. She's growing up so fast, my beautiful girl.

Without a word, she got out of bed, slipped on her slippers, and padded over to the table.

"Wow" she perked up at once. "Mom, is it some kind of holiday? Maybe I dont have to go to school today?" Her brows arched, her lips stretched into a smile.

"No, you're going to school," I said, tousling her hair on top of her head. "But yes, it's a holiday — a new day has dawned, and we've woken up. Isn't that a holiday?"

I winked at her.

We sat down at the table. She devoured her toast, sipping cocoa and squinting with pleasure. Today, I drank coffee from a beautiful mug and, for the first time in years, I ate a cheese sandwich.

I never used to have breakfast. I skipped that meal every morning. I'd wake up exhausted, unrested, and with the onset of depression, everything had felt so grey, wornout, and meaningless.

My daughter and I left the house in high spirits, ready to conquer the day.

"Mom, will you pick me up today?"

"Mmm, I think so," I smiled.

Lily had nearly grown as tall as I was, and now we walked arminarm, smiling and joking. At the school gates, I said goodbye and headed to the office.

Yes, to the office — not back home to wake Paul. His breakfast was on the table: scrambled eggs and his favourite ham, tea with four spoons of sugar. He could eat it without me. And I wouldn't have to listen to him grumbling, farting, and belching loudly every few minutes. Ugh.

At the office, the receptionist greeted me. Mary had joined us a month ago — beautiful, smart, and quick to catch on. But it seemed she'd had her share of bad luck too, though only with a boyfriend. If things work out with Daniel, I'll recommend him to her.I remembered his gaze and his whisper, the way hed commanded me — a pleasant shiver ran through me.

"Jeanette, two letters from partners have arrived for you. The courier delivered them; they asked for a reply as soon as possible."

"Thank you, Mary." Ill look into it. "Anything else?"

Daniel

That morning, he'd sent her a bouquet of white lilies, wrapped in matte paper with minimal decoration, along with a note.

Is she at the office yet?

He glanced at the clock.

Work wasn't going well. Patients spoke; he listened, but his thoughts were elsewhere — with her silence.

What is she feeling now?

Shame? (I've let him down. He'll think I'm weak.)

Anger? (Why is he pressuring me so much? I'm not obliged)Relief? (I'm safe. It's too dangerous.)

He closed his eyes, picturing her face: her unrestrained moan, her frightened eyes, her indignation, the way her lips had trembled when he'd said, "Open your mouth." How her fingers had clenched around her bag. How she'd obeyed.

She trembled, but she didn't pull away. She waited

She'll come back. She'll definitely come back. She'll be here again tomorrow.

But somehow, it didn't sound like confidence — it sounded like a spell.

Jeanette

The bouquet. A bouquet of white lilies The scent somehow reminded me of him — his shirt, his collar, his neck. I wanted... I wanted so many things then. But it's silly and frightening.

Flowers from him. Very interesting.I walked over to my desk, where the understated bundle of flowers sat. I traced the petals with my fingertips, feeling their softness. My gaze fell on a note hidden among the blooms. I pulled it out.

You forgot to ask what happens if you don't come. Can you guess?D.

My cheeks flushed with heat. Right. The list. I have to make that list today, without fail.

There was a knock at the office door.

"Come in."

Irène burst into my quiet workspace, radiant and cheerful as ever.

"Hi, Jeanette!"

The scent of her perfume instantly filled every inch of the room.

"Hi!" I smiled, setting aside my papers.

"Mmm, you have flowers? Who are they from?" Without waiting for an answer, her hand dipped into the bouquet and fished out the note I'd shoved back in, embarrassed.

"Hmm, very interesting..." She raised one eyebrow. "Could it be Daniel?"

Oh Lord, why is she so nosy?

"I think so. No one else would send them. Did he send you bouquets too?"

"What? No," she waved it off. "But with you I can see he's acting completely different."

Irène sat on the chair by my desk, one leg crossed over the other, swinging it playfully up and down.

"So... he?.." she drawled, fanning herself with the note.

Please don't let her ask...

"Decided to treat you differently?" my friend finished.

I exhaled almost imperceptibly with relief. I didn't really want to tell her what Daniel had done during our sessions.

"Are you sure this is just therapy?" she asked with a meaningful smile.

"What do you mean?" I chuckled. "What else could it be?"

Unconsciously, I traced the edge of my notebook — and only then did I remember that gesture from Daniels office. He does that. What? Am I starting to copy him?

"Hmm. Alright," but Irène narrowed her eyes slyly. "You do realise he's overstepping boundaries, right?"

A pause.

"He gives you assignments?"

"He does. And yes, the bouquet is unsettling. But I don't even know how to react to it." I bit my lip unconciously, remembering how he'd stood beside me, giving his orders.

"And I have to make a list of desires."

"Ah! Yes, thats fun. You know, when I..." my friend began chirping, recalling how she'd completed a similar task for Daniel, instantly forgetting her thoughts about the bouquet.

But it seemed her assignment had been different from mine.

When I was alone, I picked up my phone to message Daniel:

Mr. Skinner, thank you for the bouquet. But you really didn't have to. I remember about the session. I'll be there at the appointed time.

A moment later, his reply came:

Gratitude is sweet. But you know what happens for overdue assignments. The list will either fix the situation — or worsen it.

I was taken aback. Worsen it?» What does he mean? Will he cancel the session? Come to my house? Or make me say out loud what I've written on the list? What on earth should I reply?

I pushed my worries aside, throwing myself headfirst into work. Meetings, signing documents, appointments with teachers — it all spun past like a carousel throughout the day. I forgot about lunch again. As always. It's a good thing Mary brings me coffee — she knows I need it.

By three oclock, I left the office to pick up Lily from school. An hour later, we were back home.

"Why did you pick her up? I could have done it," Paul said, holding Lily, who'd just taken off her shoes and jumped into his arms for a hug.

"I'm perfectly capable of picking up my own daughter from school," I replied. "We can take turns doing it."

"Uhhuh. Still dont see the point. You're usually stuck at work till late anyway," he said, hanging Lilys coat on a hanger and closing the wardrobe.

"But I love it when Mom picks me up!" Lily chimed in, joining the parents conversation. "Let Mom pick me up!"

"What about me? Have you stopped loving me, Lily?" Paul leaned toward the child and pouted his lower lip, pretending to be sad.

"Daddy," Lily placed her little palms on his cheeks, "I love you very much — and I love Mom too."

"But you love me more than Mom, right?"

Lily stayed silent, just smiling and hugging her dad.

"Why ask the child that?" I snapped, walking deeper into the apartment.

"You definitely love me more than Mom," Paul insisted loudly, kissing the child on the cheek.

"Jeanette, will you make something to eat? I'm hungry," he added — and then another loud belch followed.

Oh God What's wrong with his stomach?

"I'll make something," I tossed over my shoulder as I washed my hands.

"Make it now. I want cutlets," Paul called after me as I headed into the kitchen. A mountain of unwashed dishes had piled up in the sink.

"What were you doing? Why so many dishes?"

I felt like crying. I was exhausted from work — yes, not a full day today, but still... Isn't it possible to?

"I was making pumpkin juice! I looked it up online. Look — there was a whole carafe!" He pointed to a plump, nearly empty glass jug.

"Mmm... Was it tasty?"

"Yes. By the way, were out of cookies. We need to buy some. Could you run to the store?"

I clenched the sponge in my hand, silently.

"I'll buy them," I sighed, letting go of my frustration.

As I washed the dishes, I felt his eyes on me. He sat at the table, finishing his pumpkin juice, boring a hole into me with his stare.

"You've put on some weight, Jeanette. You've gotten so plump," he laughed. "Look at that belly."

He came up behind me and squeezed my waist with his hands.

"I'm fine"

Paul kept squeezing, and I thought of how Daniel had touched my wrist — lightly, yet with authority. One touch made me burn; another extinguished the light.

"No, look. See how you've let yourself go," he pressed on. "Come on, lets step on the scales."

"No. Do you want me to cook?" I tried to pull away from his grip.

Once upon a time, I'd loved his touch. But that was long ago. Very long ago.

"Come on."

Paul took the sponge from my hand and, wiping his hands on my house dress, led me to the scales.

"Step on."

Jeanette obediently stepped on.

"There, look."

He tapped with his index finger. Once, his fingers had been extraordinary — not anymore.

"Someone's been eating too much. Lily, don't be like your mom. She's put on a lot of weight."

Sixtyfour kilograms.

"Leave the child out of this," I hissed.

I stepped off the scales and silently walked into the kitchen. Paul went into the room, turned on his show on the laptop, lay on the bed, and laughed — and laughed.

Just a few more decades, and it;ll all be over... It;ll all end...

After dinner, we went to our separate rooms. Lily played her games. Paul kept watching his show. And I I sat down to write my list.

What do I want?

"Then write that down on your list too. Your first desire: I want Daniel Skinner to kiss me."

She remembered Daniels words from the day before. A fluttering knot twisted in the pit of her stomach. Her heart pounded so loudly she feared Paul might hear it.

She smoothed the sheet of paper with her hand and finally decided to write her list.

I want...

She crossed it out. Rewrote it:

I want to feel alive.

But it felt too vague. Too safe.

I want Daniel Skinner to kiss me.

Her hand trembled. She glanced at the door, as if he might walk in.

Part 4

A day later, at the appointed time

Daniel is waiting for Jeanette in the same office, flipping through some papers, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He doesn't look up right away when she walks in — only when she stops in front of his desk, does he finally meet her gaze, his eyes raking over every inch of her.

"Good evening, Jeanette."

He sets the papers down on the desk and gestures to a chair.

"Take a seat."

Jeanette obeys without a word.

He stares at her intently, hands folded on the desk. His voice is cold, but slightly softer now.

"Did you complete the task?"

He leans forward slightly and holds out his hand.

" Give me the list."

Jeanette hesitantly hands him the piece of paper. It's not long — just five items:

1. A gentle kiss from him.

2. A warm embrace.

3. His time — just for me.

4. He wants only me.

5. He values me.

Daniel studies the list carefully. His lips twitch in a faint smirk, as if hed expected something different — something bolder. But no, just these five points.

After a moment, he lifts his eyes from the paper and looks at her.

"Are you serious?"

Her cheeks flush with shame.

" I told you I don't know how to desire."

He chuckles softly, placing the list on the desk in front of him. His hand slowly glides across the surface towards her, fingers brushing the edge of the paper.

" Can't desire, or won't allow yourself?.."

He leans forward, holding her gaze.

" Those are two different things, Jeanette."

" I don't know..."

Daniel nods slowly, as if accepting her answer.

" All right Then let's start with something simple."

He picks up a pen and draws a line under the last item.

" Tonight, you'll write another list. But not about what you want from me, " he grins with a satisfied smile.

A pause. The silence of the office envelops them like a vacuum for a few seconds.

"But about what you're afraid of in me."

His eyes bore into hers.

"Because fear is also a form of intimacy. And you're already feeling it, aren't you?"

Jeanette stays silent, her gaze darting nervously between his eyes and the sheet of paper.

He watches her in silence, hands clasped on the desk. His eyes follow her every reaction. After a brief pause, he adds slowly:

"You have nothing to fear, Jeanette."

He leans back in his chair, tilting his head slightly, a hint of a smirk lingering at the corners of his lips.

"Don't we trust each other?.. " he almost purrs.

"We do," Jeanette's voice betrays her, cracking slightly.

The corners of his mouth twitch, as if he's been waiting for this answer. With his eyes half -closed, he watches her closely.

"Then get started."

There's a sheet of paper and a pen on the desk. He gestures towards them.

"Don't be afraid, Jeanette."

His voice is quiet, almost gentle — the only thing that could calm her at this moment.

"Just write down whatever comes to your mind."

"All right," Jeanette picks up the pen and, with a trembling hand, begins to write:

1. Harsh.

2. Arrogant.

3. Bold.

4. Overconfident.

5. Dominant.

He reads the list carefully after Jeanette hands it to him five minutes later. A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face.

"You're observant."

He leans back, eyes halfclosed. His voice drops, becoming almost lazy.

"But you know... You listed my traits. I asked about your fear."

A pause.

He leans forward, staring intently at her.

"What are you afraid of? That I'll take advantage of all this?.. Or that I wont?"

"That you'll take advantage" Jeanette swallows nervously. "And that I'll give in. And everything will go just as I expected," she whispers the last words.

Daniel nods slowly, as if she's just confirmed something fascinating. He makes no attempt to reassure her. On the contrary, his eyes flash with a cold gleam.

"And you're right."

Daniel flips the sheet with her fears and places it next to the list of desires. Their words seem to flow into each other: dominant — his time — just for me, bold — he wants only me.

Jeannette feels a familiar shiver run down her spine — the same one that appears when he's too close.

Warmth. Fear. Desire. Three sensations merge into one.

I'm not afraid of him"she realizes. "Im afraid of myself. "

"Of what will happen if I let it happen."

He stands up and slowly walks around the desk, stopping beside Jeanette.

"I will take advantage," he pauses. "And you'll give in because youre tired of being alone."

Not because youre foolish or weak.

He places his hands on her shoulders, leaning slightly from the side.

"And it won't go the way you expected because I'm not just any man. I'm the one who knows how to touch what's inside of you —what you didn't even know was there: your soul, it's desires"

A pause. An old clock coldly ticks away the seconds, cutting through the silence of the office with its steady rhythm. Jeanette involuntarily glances at the pendulum — it swings back and forth, as if counting down the last moments of her resistance.

"You're afraid of losing control?.. Good. Then tomorrow well start losing it," he seems to growl the last words.