Chapter 247 – An Unbreakable Vow with the Heartless Tycoon

“Just a wrong number.”

“We need to get you both to safety,” Robert says.

“It looks like they’ve stopped the attack, but it could be some sort of trick. I’m guessing that you were the target, Mrs. Bamford. Your sister will be safer back at her campus than with you. I’ll send extra bodyguards just to be safe.”

“Oh, um, that’s really not necessary,” Gabrielle says.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine without them.”

“Nonsense,” Leilani says.

Gabrielle chews her lip nervously as the town car speeds toward her university. When it pulls up outside the main gates, a team of eight bodyguards is waiting. Leilani gives her sister a quick hug and watches as she gets out and walks through the gates, followed by the men. Even from a distance, Leilani can see that Gabrielle’s head is bent over her phone, and she seems to be sending another text.

By the time they arrive at the Bamford mansion, the grounds look like the camp of a small army. Armored cars and bodyguards wait for information, and men with machine guns stand next to the family helicopter. Waylen stands at the front gate, and his face was twisted with horrible anger. Leilani shudders and looks away, grateful that he can’t see her through the tinted windows.

The town car slows, and Waylen jerks the door open. He pulls Leilani out, and half carried, half dragged her towards the house. Bodyguards form a circle around them and jog along with them. Another group of guards carries Robert on an emergency stretcher.

David Walter is waiting in the entryway with his medical kit. The bodyguards put the stretcher on top of a metal surgical table, and David turns on a powerful lamp. He unwraps the makeshift bandage Leilani made and looks critically at Robert’s wound.

“Um, shouldn’t Robert go to the hospital?” Leilani asks.

“No, I can do this here,” David says.

“I was trained as a field medic, too, you know.” He looks down at Robert and asks the butler, “Do you want a sedative?”

Robert grits his teeth and shakes his head no. David balls up a clean piece of cloth and stuffs it into Robert’s mouth. He grabs a scalpel and slices into Robert’s skin. Leilani winces and looks away.

Waylen grabs her arm and asks, “Where are you hurt?”

Waylen stares down at Leilani but keeps his hands behind his back. Leilani looks pointedly away; she’d rather watch David operate on Robert than look at Waylen.

“Mrs. Bamford wasn’t hurt,” Robert says around the ball of fabric in his mouth.

The words sound muffled and strange, but Waylen seems to understand. His body relaxes, and his face softens. He raises one hand as if to touch her and then drops it back down to his side.

“Robert, why is there an army of bodyguards on the front lawn?” Leilani asks, ignoring Waylen.

“To send a warning,” Waylen replies.

Leilani exhales a long sigh as relief floods her body. If Waylen was ready to start a war with Jackson, there’d be no stopping him. A feud between the Bamford and Oliver families would destroy them both. Besides, if things stay peaceful, it’ll be easier to negotiate with Andrew.

David dips the tweezers deep into Robert’s arm, and Robert’s face goes deadly white. There’s bright red blood all over the metal tabletop and on David’s white surgical gloves. Leilani feels her stomach churn, and she looks down at her feet until she hears the loud clink of the bullet hitting the tray.

When she looks up, David is stitching Robert’s arm with a strong black thread. Robert’s phone begins to ring, and he picks it up with his good arm. The light from the screen illuminates his pale face, and he frowns when he reads the caller ID.

“It’s Mr. Clifford,” Robert says.

“Answer it,” Waylen says.

Leilani scowls at Waylen—can’t he answer the phone himself? She watches Robert fumble to answer the phone. He raises it to his ear and nods slowly, then he lowers the phone and holds it against his leg to muffle the sound.

“Mr. Clifford has agreed to meet, but only if Leilani comes too,” Robert says.

Waylen glances at Leilani and says, “Tell him I’ll agree to his terms. But he better not try any funny business.”

Gabrielle stands in the doorway to one of the private suites at The Palm House. She rocks back and forth on her heels and bites her lip. The room is dim, but she can clearly see Jackson sitting on the edge of the white bed. He’s wearing a short white robe, and his legs are spread so wide, she can almost see his d.i.c.k.

She tries to avoid looking, but he shifts on the bed, drawing her eyes back down to the darkness beneath his robe. He sees her looking, and he smirks, twisting the robe’s belt around one hand. His curly hair is wet and messy from his shower, and his eyes seem to sparkle.

“Come closer,” Jackson says, like a conqueror waiting for a slave to kneel before him.

He curls his pointer, and middle fingers in a come here gesture and give her a long, slow wink. She feels her fear boil into anger, and she stomps across the room. I’ll do what he says, but only up to a point, she thinks. If he tries anything, I swear to God I’ll bite it off. She stands in front of him, and he looks up at her through his long, dark eyelashes.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Jackson asks.

“Get down on your knees and please me.”

Gabrielle shakes her head and says, “I don’t know-how. Even if I did know, I wouldn’t do it.”

Jackson slowly stands, towering over her. She takes a step backward and raises her hands defensively, but he doesn’t move to touch her. Instead, he reaches into his robe pocket and pulls out his phone.

“Do you forget the text you sent to me?” he asks, raising one perfect eyebrow.

“Why don’t you remind me?” Gabrielle asks, stalling for time.

Jackson smiles a dazzling smile and looks down at his phone. Gabrielle inhales deeply—he smells like pine and musk, and it reminds her of Bryan. His throat is at eye level, and she has the urge to get up on her tippy toes and put her mouth on the soft, damp skin, but she’s not sure if she wants to kiss or bite it.

Jackson says, “Ahh, yes, you said: Leave my sister alone, and I’ll give you whatever you want. Now, what I want is for you to please me: with your mouth. If you’ve changed your mind, that’s fine. I know where I can find Leilani.”

Jackson turns and walks toward the bed, and Gabrielle jumps in front of him. With a smooth gesture, he pushes her onto the soft mattress. She flails and grabs his robe, accidentally pulling him on top of her. He quickly slides his hands to either side of her body and hovers over her. His eyes flash, and she can feel the heat of his skin through her clothes. She holds her breath and freezes beneath him.

“You’re as stiff as a corpse waiting for autopsy,” he says with a little laugh.

“Why don’t you relax a little and try to enjoy it?”

“I didn’t know you were interested in f.u.c.k.i.n.g corpses,” Gabrielle snaps.

“Why don’t you go make a deal with a mortician instead?”

“I suppose I could do that—might even be able to find a corpse more lively than you,” Jackson says.

“Now, I’m going to count to three and give you a chance to change your mind. I don’t like it when people waste my time, Gabrielle, and that’s what you’re doing right now.”

Gabrielle chews the side of her cheek and tries to think of a way out of the situation. There’s no way I can fight him, she thinks. He’s way too strong for that, and he has the upper hand right now.

---