Chapter 214 – An Unbreakable Vow with the Heartless Tycoon

“For the sake of the baby, please, control yourself,” Waylen groans.

Leilani climbs off his lap, feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She tugs her dress down and runs her fingers through her hair. She looks down at her feet, but she can feel Waylen’s gaze on her. He stands up and slips his finger beneath her chin, tilting her head up.

“You’re so hot when you’re shy,” he says.

“Let go of me,” she snapped, feeling her blush deepened.

“Your face is quite red,” Waylen says with a smirk.

“I said let go,” Leilani says, pushing Waylen firmly in the chest. “You’re absolutely shameless!”

“How am I shameless?” he asks. “You’re the one who started this you know.”

Leilani feels his warm fingers caress her flushed cheeks, but he doesn’t force her to look up at him again. His breathing is still ragged, and she wonders how hard he’s fighting his own desires. She steps backward and glances guiltily up at him.

“I’m going to go now,” she says.

“I’ll come with you,” he says. “Just let me finish my business first.”

“No, that’s fine,” Leilani says hurriedly. “We’re going to be talking about my mother and other female things. It’ll be a bit awkward if you’re there.”

She doesn’t mind Waylen’s presence so much as she minds Robert and all of Waylen’s bodyguards. Trying to have a private conversation with an audience often is almost impossible. She wants Sophie to be honest and open with her.

“Okay,” Waylen says, surprising her with how easily he’s agreeing. “I’ll ask a woman to guard you instead this time. Just be careful, okay?”

Leilani calls Gabrielle as she leaves the room. The phone rings for a long time before Gabrielle finally answers. Her voice sounds muffled, and Leilani is sure she can hear traffic in the background.

“Where are you?” Leilani asks.

“At school, in the library,” Gabrielle says. “Why?”

Gabrielle pulls her car up to the valet and leaves the keys in the ignition. She walks into The Palm House, nervously playing with her hair. Based on the charges Jackson made on her credit card, this luxury steakhouse is his favorite restaurant in the city. She hopes to find him having lunch somewhere inside.

Though he promised to return her credit cards if she cooked for him, he broke his promise. He finished the entire meal but complained that it was unfit to feed the dogs. His demands have been even more outrageous and unbearable than usual: luxury jewelry, custom-made silk pajamas, expensive sculptures, and other things she can’t afford to buy him.

A waiter greets her at the door. He looked her up and down and purses his lips. She’s dressed like a student in a pair of tight, light-wash jeans and a cropped linen tee. She knows she’s violating about five of the rules on the restaurant’s dress code.

“Have you seen a tall man with curly hair and a diamond earring?” Gabrielle asks. “I think he’s a regular here.”

“Are you umm, a friend of his?” the waiter asks, curling his lip.

Gabrielle nods, and the waiter sighs. He gestures for her to follow him and leads her down a wood-paneled hall to the private dining rooms. Potted palms line the hallway, and the air smells like steak and cigar smoke. The waiter opens the door and ushers her inside. The entire room smells like whiskey.

“It’s good that you’re here,” the waiter says. “Your boyfriend has had a bit too much this afternoon and needs someone to drive him home.”

“He’s not my boy—” Gabrielle says, but the waiter has already shut the door.

Jackson is lying on a leather couch in the corner of the room. He groans and rolls over but ignores her. She shoves him roughly on the shoulder, and he groans again.

“Wake up,” Gabrielle shouts, but it’s like yelling at a stone statue.

Gabrielle looks around the room and then slips her hand into his jacket pocket. She digs around, hoping to find her credit cards, but there’s nothing there. She sighed and looked down at his trousers. There’s a bulge in one of the pockets that could be his wallet.

She slips a finger in and feels leather. Hardly daring to breathe, she slides another finger in, trying to get a grip on the smooth leather. Suddenly Jackson’s bloodshot eyes flicker open. He shakes his hand around her waist and pulled her on top of him. His hot alcoholic breath blows on her face, and he presses his mouth to hers.

Gabrielle freezes. She stares down at him in shock and tries to pull away, but he only tugs her closer. He forces her lips open and slides his tongue into her mouth, and she tastes the spice of whiskey on his tongue. He kisses her fiercely and drunkenly, biting her lip so hard she cries out. The sound of her own voice startles her, and she shakes herself free and slaps him hard in the face.

“Jessica, you think I’ll forgive you just because you came to me first?” he asked, his voice slurring, “Well, forget it!”

Is Jessica, his girlfriend or his wife? She thinks. If he remembers her name, he must be faking the amnesia. She pulls her phone from her pocket and hits record.

“Come on, tell me what you just said,” she says.

Gabrielle pushes Jackson, but he doesn’t move. He seems to be completely unconscious. He snores loudly, and she slips her phone back into her pocket. She stares down at him and tries to think. Jessica is such a common name—it could be anyone.

She chews her lip and paces back and forth on the oak floors. Well, the man clearly has expensive tastes, Gabrielle thinks. He must come from a wealthy family, but which one? There are at least a dozen different Jessicas in this city’s top families—who knows how many there are in the country. There’s Jessica Ratcliffe, Jessica Lee, Jessica Lawrence, Jessica Clifford—the list goes on and on.   She leans down and shakes his shoulder as hard as she can, but he only snores louder. She grabs an open bottle of wine from the table and slowly pours it over his head. The red liquid splashed down his face and onto the sofa. He snorts, gasps, and opens his eyes. He looks around the room as if he barely recognizes it.

“Say it again, you ass,” she shouts.

“Huh?” he asks, “What did I say?”

“Say it again,” she insists.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says.

“You just told me that you’re faking your amnesia,” Gabrielle says. “You said you felt really bad for taking advantage of me and promised to move out of the apartment and return all the money you’ve spent.”

Jackson wipes the wine from his face with the back of his hand. His bloodshot eyes look glazed. He shakes his head and blinks slowly.

“No, you’re trying to trick me,” he says, but he sounds uncertain.

“I swear, I’m not,” Gabrielle says. “Besides, you mentioned someone’s name.”

“Oh, who?” he asks, his face going slightly pale.

“Jessica,” she says.

Jackson closes his eyes and rests his head in his hands, and Gabrielle wonders if he’s about to pass out again. Suddenly he jumped to his feet and grabbed her by the neck, pushing her back into one of the wood-paneled walls. His drunken strength is terrifying.

“If you even mention that name to me again, I swear to God I’ll choke you to death,” he says.

“Get your hands off me,” Gabrielle says. “You’re too drunk to find your way out of this restaurant, let alone hide my body.”

Jackson slowly releases his grip and sinks into a chair at the table. He grabs a glass and a bottle of whiskey and pours himself a drink. He swallows it in one gulp and turns to look at her.

“Drink with me,” he says.

“I don’t drink,” Gabrielle says, rubbing her sore neck.

“I’ll teach you,” Jackson says.

He grabs another bottle of wine and a wine glass and fills the glass to the rim. Gabrielle sighs and sits down. The smell burns her nose, and she winced at the strong taste. She takes another sip, enjoying the way it makes her stomach feel warm. Before she realizes what she’s done, she’s drained the glass. Jackson pours her another.

---