Waylen looks at her sarcastically and his meaning is self-evident. Leilani stands alone, isolated and helpless; she glances between the second button of his shirt and his cold eyes. He’s been in an irritable mood all day, and his injuries seem to be making him even crankier. She knows she should avoid upsetting him further, and she also knows that her presence will inevitably irritate him.
“I’ll go to the staff rooms,” she says, without hesitation.
“The damned woman would rather go to the staff dormitory than stay with me,” Waylen thinks bitterly.
The atmosphere feels tense and airless. Waylen sneers cruelly and snaps his fingers. Immediately, Robert asks a bodyguard to lead Leilani to the staff dormitory.
As soon as the doors to the presidential suite close behind Leilani, a loud series of crashes sounds from within. Waylen throws everything within his reach: lamps, ashtrays, vases, and the tea table smash against floors and walls. Robert looks worriedly at his boss’ back. The bandaged wounds have reopened and blood stains the back of Waylen’s clean shirt.
Waylen punches the wall, streaking the white paint with blood until his hands go numb and he can’t feel the pain.
“The wall is like her heart: hard as iron and steel and just as impenetrable,” Waylen thinks.
The elevator descends to the second floor, and Leilani follows the bodyguard to the staff dormitory. The room is small, but it looks like a standard hotel room with two small, neatly made beds piled with sheets and quilts. The walls are bare, but every necessity is provided. Two bedside tables display a small collection of necessities: soaps, shampoos, conditioners, and lotions.
Leilani’s eyes sweep the room. One of the bedside table is in disarray, covered with a chaotic collection of personal belongings. Amidst the mess Leilani notices a medicine bottle. She squints at the fine print on the bottle and reads the name “Yasmin.”
“Is someone else living here?” she asks.
“A dancer lives here normally, but she asked for leave,” the bodyguard explains, “This room is temporarily empty.”
Leilani nods without saying a word. The bodyguard examines the bathroom and checks behind the curtains before hanging Leilani a plastic card.
“Mr. Bamford asked me to give this to you,” the guard says, “If you need anything here, you can just use this card. I’ll leave you know.”
Leilani accepts the card—it is emblazoned with the hotel logo and it only works within the hotel. As soon as the bodyguard leaves, Leilani checks the room to see if there’s a landline she can use. She still hasn’t been able to contact Charles, and she’s starting to get worried. She wanted to call him earlier, but her phone won’t work and she knows it’s foolish to ask to borrow someone else’s. Waylen would be furious with her if she asked to use his, and Robert would report her call to his boss.
She was hoping to use a landline as soon as they arrived at the hotel, but she quickly realized it was impossible. As long as she’s with Waylen, her every action is examined as if she’s under a microscope. She knew she had to get away from him, and the staff dormitory seemed like the perfect opportunity. Unfortunately, there are no phones in the staff rooms. All hotel staff are expected to use their mobile phones if they want to communicate with the outside world.
Cautiously, Leilani peeks out into the hallway, but she doesn’t see any bodyguards. Hopeful that they’ve left her alone, she goes down to the front desk and asks to use one of the lobby phones. Quickly, she dials Charles—she has dozens of questions for him—but his phone had been turned off. She tries again and again, but every time his phone goes to voicemail.
“Charles never turns his phone off,” Leilani thinks, “What’s going on?”
Leilani is restless and distracted, staring at the phone in her hand when someone bumps her in the shoulder. She smells a potent perfume and finds that there are several gorgeously dressed women checking in at the front desk.
“Fortunately, I was resourceful and reserved a room in advance,” says the woman who bumped her, triumphantly tapping her keycard on the front desk.
“I’ve heard there are rooms here you can’t book, no matter how much money you have,” says another woman, “They’re constantly reserved for the most influential families. I’ve heard a suite here can cost a million per night.”
“Are Mr. Bamford and Mr. Clifford staying in this hotel?” asks a third.
“It’s true, otherwise why would it be so difficult to book a room?” gossips one of the women, “But unfortunately Mr. Bamford is married, so we’d better try for Mr. Clifford. Don’t compete with me, though, I want him all for myself.”
“Every woman wants a good man,” snaps the second, “But you’re not married to him yet. As far as I’m concerned, he’s fair game for all of us—never mind that we’re friends.”
“Oh, it’s no use getting married,” says one bitterly, “They can always divorce you.”
One of the women quickly glances around the lobby and then lowers her voice. Her friends huddle around her to hear.
“Haven’t you heard that Mr. Bamford and Mrs. Bamford are on bad terms with each other?” she whispers, “No matter how handsome and wealthy other men are, no one can compare to Mr. Bamford. You all can chase after Mr. Clifford, but leave Mr. Bamford to me.”
The women giggle and prepare to head to their room. Suddenly one of them pauses and looks directly at Leilani.
“Mrs. Bamford?” she shouts.
Leilani looks up from the phone in her hand. Among the women she recognizes Lisa Cindy from incident at the jewelry store.
“Lisa, do you know her?” asks one of the women.
“Weren’t you just saying you’d like to seduce Mr. Bamford?” one of the women says maliciously, “Maybe you should ask for Mrs. Bamford’s blessing.”
Lisa whispers a few harsh words to her friend and then looks critically at the landline receiver in Leilani’s hand.
“Are you making a call?” she asks.
Leilani ask. Charles’s mobile phone is still off.
“I don’t think we’re acquainted,” Leilani says cooly.
“Perhaps you’ve blocked the memory,” Lisa says significantly, “We met at the jewelry store…”
Lisa pauses and casts a meaningful look at her group of friends.
“You might not believe it but Mrs. Bamford asked the clerks to close the store as soon as she entered,” she says in a stage whisper.
“Really? Was she so haughty?” replies one woman.
“She insisted on buying almost all of the jewelry—hundreds of millions of dollars worth, and you’ll never guess what happened,” continues Lisa.
“Don’t keep us in suspense!” begs Lisa’s friend, “Just tell us already.”
Lisa pauses dramatically; she’s told this story many times and each time she adds additional flair. She glances at Leilani casually, building suspense for her friends.
“The shop assistant wrapped up all the jewelry, and then she had to put it back. Mrs. Bamford’s credit card was denied.”
“Oh, really?” gasps one woman, “That’s so humiliating.”
“You’re kidding me!” says another, “Mr. Bamford is so rich.”
“It doesn’t matter how rich her husband is if he won’t let her spend his money,” says Lisa, “He gave Leonie a $200 million Graff pink diamond ring the day before.”
“Wow, he gave Leonie a $200 million diamond ring, but he won’t allow his legal wife to spend a penny?” marvels Lisa’s friend, “It’s no wonder people say he hates her and wants a divorce!”
Andrea sniffs disdainfully and leans against the front desk. Lisa’s petty attempts to annoy her are almost humorous. She coldly surveys the women.
“Don’t worry yourselves too much. None of you will ever be Mr. Bamford’s legal wife, so you don’t need to concern yourselves with his behavior as a husband. Women like you were born to be mistresses,” Leilani says, “Enjoy the jewelry—if you can get it.”
Leilani walks away, leaving the women in stunned silence. By the time they’ve regained their voices, she’s entering the stairwell.
“What an arrogant woman!” gasps, “How dare she say we’re destined to be mistresses?”
“Only the wearer knows where the shoe pinches,” says another thoughtfully, “I certainly don’t envy her.”
Lisa rushes to the front desk.
“Do Mr. and Mrs. Bamford live together?” she demands.
“Sorry, we can’t disclose our guests’ information,” the front desk clerk answers with a professional smile.
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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