Dean Meyer sees Waylen and comes forward to greet him, “Hello, Waylen.”
“Hello, Dean Meyer.”
Dean Meyer nods with a welcoming smile and casts a look at Leilani. She stands slightly behind Waylen and she looks miserable. He has met her before but only briefly, and he’s curious to see the woman who has caused such trouble for his son and his hospital.
“How do you do, Dean Meyer?” she says politely.
“Please come in. We’ll talk on the way to my office,” he says.
Dean Meyer turns to lead the way and an entourage of doctors and nurses follow him. Waylen’s bodyguards trail behind the group. As they march through the hospital, bystanders are forced to press themselves against the walls to make room for the crowd in the corridors. Young nurses and female patients stand aside and gape, and a few try to take sneak pictures with their phones.
“Oh my God, that man is really really handsome,” says one nurse.
“Yes, he’s even s.e.xier than Dr. Meyer,” says a female patient with a giggle.
“Where is Dr. Meyer?” asks another patient, “I haven’t seen him today.”
“He has surgery all day, arranged by the Dean. I feel like he treats Charles like he’s not his own son,” says the nurse.
“Isn’t the woman with Mr. Bamford a relative of one of Dr. Meyer patients?” asks another patient.
“Yes, she’s related to a patient in the coma ward on the 17th floor,” says another nurse, “The woman has been in a coma ever since she fell out of a window two years ago. It’s a pity, she’s the only patient Dr. Meyer has ever failed to heal.”
“I don’t suppose that matters too much for him—his record is perfect otherwise. How come she’s not awake yet?” asks another patient.
“Who knows,” says a nurse with a shrug, “But if he can’t wake her up, nobody else can.”
The cl.u.s.ter of women is still whispering heatedly when a large figure appears before them. A hulking bodyguard glares down at them, blocking some of the light.
“Please hand over the phone,” he commands.
“What phone?” asks a nurse.
“The phone you used to take pictures of Mr. Bamford.”
The nurse who took Waylen’s picture is indignant, “Why the hell do you want to take it?”
Dean Meyer sighs as her voice echoes through the hall, “I apologize on behalf of my staff. Clearly, we need more comprehensive training here.”
Waylen says nothing. This happens almost every time he goes out in public, and he knows his bodyguards will take care of deleting the images. They continue down the corridor and stop in front of the laboratory. Waylen places his hand on Leilani’s waist and steers her into the room.
The room is bright but rather small. Various test tubes and needles sit on one of the metal tables, and the transparent glass glitters in the light.
“We’ll do a blood test first to check on the various micronutrient levels,” Dean Meyer says.
He pushes his glasses up on his nose and his expression becomes serious and commanding. In one gesture the amicable middle-aged man at the hospital gate has become a stern expert. Leilani sits across from him and offers him her left hand.
He places her hand palm-up on the sanitized table; the icy metal chills her and she feels jumpy and uneasy.
“Her arms are quite thin,” Dean Meyer thinks disapprovingly as he prepares the needle.
Dean Meyer thinks she looks pale, and he’s concerned she might fear needles or blood. He doesn’t know that she’s more terrified of the test results than of any kind of physical pain.
“You’ll feel a tiny pinch, but it won’t hurt,” he consoles her, “It’ll only take a few seconds.”
“I know,” Leilani says with false calmness.
She peeks at Waylen who is leaning against the wall behind Dean Meyer. She knows that he doesn’t trust her, and her careless effort to trigger his allergy at the restaurant has probably put him on his guard.
“I can’t act rashly or dramatically now. I can’t afford to slip up again,” she thinks, “My every move is under surveillance, and he’s just waiting for me to make a mistake.”
She exhales and slides her right hand into her pocket with a casual, careless gesture. Waylen tilts his head questioningly—he still can’t figure out her true intentions.
With her hand hidden in her pocket, Leilani digs her nails into her palm and tries to imagine how Waylen will react to the rest results.
“Will he keep his cool or fly into a terrible rage if the new results suggest I’m actually fit for pregnancy?” she wonders.
She thinks about his violent rages and then about the way his eyes can become pure ice as he plots horrible punishments, and she’s not sure which reaction she fears more.
A sudden coldness on her fingertip forces her wandering mind back to the examination. Dean Meyer is wiping her finger with a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol.
“There’s a slight puncture in your finger, were you hurt recently?” he asks.
“Oh, it’s from a flowering thorn earlier this afternoon,” she said absently, “Do you want me to switch hands?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he assures her.
Leilani pulled her hand away from him and examined the wound. It’s so tiny, only a trained medical professional would notice it. If she didn’t already know it was there, she’d have trouble finding it herself.
“Your ring—” Dean Meyer gazes at the green diamond ring on Leilani’s index finger with a sudden flash of doubt. Leilani gives him a confused, panicked look, and a kind smile smooths his face, “It’s very lovely.”
Leilani is relieved, “Thanks. Actually, I think I’ll switch hands.”
She offers him her right hand and shoved her left hand into her pocket, hiding the ring.
Dean Meyer is experienced and he pricks her finger without causing her any pain. The lancet slices through her soft fingertip, and Dean Meyer slowly draws her blood into the vial. It’s over before she knows it. Dean Meyer removes the lancet, and carefully presses a cotton ball on her wound.
“Keep that on and apply pressure for five minutes,” he advises, “I’ll be back with the results in about half an hour.”
“Thanks, Dean Meyer,” Waylen says.
“You’re welcome. I’ll go take it to the blood lab now.”
Dean Meyer strides away and Waylen signals to Robert to follow him, leaving Waylen and Leilani alone in the room. Leilani watches the minute hand on the clock on the wall move little by little. The room is silent except for the audible ticking of the clock. Waylen stares at her like a beautiful work of art, but she doesn’t notice his gaze.
“Why is she so bewitching?” he wonders, “Though she looks casual and bored, I’m enchanted. When she tries to irritate me, I feel my heart leap. What is it about her?”
Her face looks fragile and enchanting below the bright hospital lights, and he wants to make love to her right there regardless of the location.
Footstep pierces the silence. Leilani looks up to see that Waylen is approaching her like an aggressive, dark shadow. She frowns faintly, but he’s already lifting her face to his. He kisses her ferociously, taking her by surprise.
This kiss is different. It’s more intense and urgent than the others. He bites her lip, determined to overpower her, and Leilani tastes blood in her mouth. The kiss feels like a test as if he’s trying to make up his mind about something or calm some inner turmoil.
Leilani feels horrified and suffocated. Her head spins and she thinks she might pass out. She musters her strength and tries to push him off of her. She’s surprised when Waylen allows her to push him away, ending the mad kiss. He steps away with the languor and wipes the blood off his mouth like a vampire.
His eyes look crazed and blood-thirsty, “Do you know what I hate?”
He pauses, giving her a chance to reply, but she sets her jaw and stares at him wordlessly. She watches his perfect lips form the words, uttering each syllable slowly, “Deception and betrayal.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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