Dangerous Temptation: No Escape From My Brother-In-Law's Obsession

"You're my sister-in-law, right? It's nice finally meeting you. I hope we can get along."

During the lively welcome party, that all-too-familiar voice struck Eleanor Webb without warning, echoing in her ears long after the moment passed.

Everything around her seemed to blur away. Only one person remained clear in her sight.

Jonathan Fletcher.

Two years ago, he had been her boyfriend.

Then everything in her life fell apart overnight. Her father ran off overseas with his mistress and their illegitimate child, and her mother, unable to endure the blow, leapt from a building and was left in a vegetative state.

Faced with crushing medical expenses, Eleanor ended things with Jonathan and agreed to marry Shawn Fletcher, the second son of the Fletcher family, who had fallen into a coma after a car accident, entering a marriage arranged out of necessity.

Back then, she believed she would never cross paths with Jonathan again.

Not once did she expect that he would return as the long-lost eldest son of the Fletcher family.

This entire party had been prepared to welcome him home.

Compared to before, he looked leaner, his features more defined, and there was a cold distance about him that made it clear no one could get close.

"Jonathan, why are you here?"

Eleanor stood rooted in place, unable to react, when a graceful woman stepped forward and slipped her arm through Jonathan's. Her voice carried a soft sweetness, and her cheeks still held a faint blush.

Just moments earlier, the Fletcher family had publicly announced their engagement.

Hannah Benton now stood as Jonathan's fiancée.

That truth sank into Eleanor like a heavy weight, locking her body in place as if she had turned to stone.

"So this is Eleanor? Shawn's wife?" Hannah asked, turning toward her as though noticing her for the first time.

Though her expression faltered for a second, Eleanor forced herself to smile faintly.

"Miss Benton, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm not feeling well, so I'll take my leave."

Giving them a brief nod, Eleanor turned and walked away without waiting for a response.

Not once did she lift her eyes toward Jonathan, and because of that, she never saw the dark, unreadable look in his gaze.

By the time she stepped out of the party venue, all her strength had drained away.

In a daze, she found an empty room and began drinking one glass after another, as if the alcohol might dull the pain clawing through her. As if drowning herself in it might erase every thought of Jonathan.

Each gulp of alcohol scorched her throat, making her cough as tears stung her eyes, yet his image refused to leave her mind. Every memory lingered, from the warmth they once shared to the cold, disdainful look he gave her when everything ended.

Through the haze of alcohol, the door suddenly opened. A tall silhouette appeared, and then moved toward her and pulled her up from where she sat.

Could it be Jonathan?

Without thinking, Eleanor threw her arms around his shoulders, pressing herself against him as she tried to draw in his scent, desperate for something familiar.

As she leaned closer, the grip at her waist tightened, holding her in place.

"Eleanor, you walk into my room without permission, and now you're clinging to me like this. Do you even understand what you're doing?"

His voice brushed against her ear, one she recognized, though it carried a sharp chill. Clutching the fabric of his suit jacket, she lifted her face and moved in to kiss him.

There was no confusion in her mind. She knew what she wanted, and it was only Jonathan.

"You brought this on yourself," he said, his voice strained, each word forced out with tension.

Before she could react, a sharp intensity overtook her. It felt as if her body could not keep up with what was happening.

"Eleanor, did you even look at who I am before you acted like that?"

His breathing grew heavier near her ear. Fingers clamped under her chin, forcing her face upward as pain shot through her.

A faint sound escaped her lips, strained and broken, before her voice gave out completely.

Her strength gave way, and she slumped forward, falling against him as if she had nowhere else to go.

"Jonathan..."

Her thoughts had fallen apart. Only his name escaped her, soft and broken, as though it barely reached the air.

At the sound of it, his movements faltered for just a second.

The hand that had been moving along her back slowed, its touch losing its earlier harshness.

As she gripped his arm, Eleanor's unfocused gaze drifted. In her mind, she wished this man could be Jonathan, yet she knew that couldn't be true.

Back then, she had chosen money over him without hesitation and married into the Fletcher family. Someone like him would only hate her now, so there was no reason he would ever come near her.

A quiet trace of sorrow passed through her eyes, so faint it might have gone unnoticed, yet Jonathan saw it clearly.

"Eleanor, you were never meant for anyone else. You belong to me!"

A faint, chilling laugh slipped from Jonathan as his movements grew faster. His fingers slid to the back of her head, and he pulled her in without hesitation, leaving no space for her to resist.

Eleanor struggled to break free, yet her body refused to obey. His hold kept her locked in place.

Overwhelming sensations rose one after another, swallowing her completely.

As her thoughts blurred and sank, his voice brushed against her ear, sharp and merciless. "Tell me, Eleanor, what does Shawn have that I don't? How am I any less than that cripple?"

Every word cut deep, cold and unforgiving, like a blade striking straight through her chest.

"I'm sorry..."

Tears slipped free without warning, trailing down her face as the same words escaped her lips again and again. "I'm sorry..."

Regret filled her, all because she had sold herself to the Fletcher family back then and stepped into that arranged marriage just to cover her mother's medical costs.

After marrying Shawn, Eleanor had used her medical expertise to bring him out of his coma, yet the damage left behind was too severe. His legs had lost their strength, and even now, he remained trapped in long-term rehabilitation.

His vision had also disappeared, taken by irreversible nerve damage.

Shawn now lived with disabilities that could not be undone.

Even so, a contract signed with Jonathan and Shawn's father, Robert Fletcher, bound her tightly, leaving her no freedom to walk away from Shawn.

For the rest of her life, Eleanor was destined to remain by his side as his wife.

Because of that, Jonathan was someone she could only continue to disappoint.

...

Morning arrived quietly.

Soft sunlight slipped through the gaps in the curtains, scattering unevenly across the room and casting a hazy glow that felt almost unreal.

When Eleanor opened her eyes, pain lingered through every part of her body.

Turning her head slightly, she froze when her gaze landed on Jonathan lying beside her.

Shock flooded her instantly, her pupils widening as her breathing grew uneven.

How could it possibly be him?

With trembling hands, she pulled back the blanket, only to realize she had nothing on at all.

Fragments from the previous night rushed back without warning, draining every trace of color from her face.

Broken flashes of those intense moments filled her mind. The announcement of his engagement had shaken her, and though she rarely touched alcohol, she had forced herself to drink until her senses slipped away.

At first, it felt like nothing more than a vivid dream. Now, faced with reality, there was no denying it. She had truly spent the night with Jonathan.

Given what they had become to each other, this should have never happened.

For a brief second, Eleanor's thoughts tangled into a mess she could not sort through.

She needed to get out before Jonathan opened his eyes.

Driven by panic, Eleanor shoved the blanket aside and tried to slip off the bed. The moment she moved, an arm circled her from behind and pulled her back.

"Where are you planning to run off to?" he asked, his voice rough from sleep, yet carrying a quiet threat.

There was no doubt in her mind. Jonathan was already awake.

"Mr. Fletcher, I have to go," Eleanor said softly, choosing her words with care as she stressed the distance between them.

As soon as he heard that, a low, mocking laugh escaped him.

"Mr. Fletcher? Funny. You did not sound so distant when you came to my bed last night."

Before she could react, the world tilted. In the next instant, Eleanor found herself pressed beneath him.

Her eyes lifted, only to meet the piercing weight of his gaze.

"What happened last night should not have happened. I... I drank too much..." she stammered.

His blunt remark made heat rush to her face, and her heart pounded out of control. Words failed her for a moment.

"So that is your excuse? You drink, and then you go to just anyone?" Jonathan raised a hand and forced her chin up, his eyes filled with contempt. "Though I suppose it makes sense. Shawn cannot see, and he cannot even stand. Of course he would not be able to satisfy you."

Each sentence struck like a deliberate blow, laced with humiliation.

Clarity rushed back into Eleanor's mind.

How had she let herself forget? Jonathan wasn't here by chance. He had come back with a purpose.

If hurting her was part of it, he wouldn't hesitate for a second.

"I really was drunk last night. Let's just forget it ever happened. Please let me go." Eleanor pressed her palms against his chest, her brows drawn tight as she tilted her chin to avoid his hand, her voice lowered but firm.

As he watched her every move, Jonathan's expression darkened, something unreadable passing through his eyes.

Before either of them could move further, a knock suddenly sounded at the door.