Leilani looks down at the stage. The auctioneer is showing off a necklace with dozens of huge diamonds. The diamonds are all different colors, and they sparkle brightly in the light. It’s very showy—the kind of thing a man might give to his mistress but never to his wife.
“I want to buy that necklace and send it to Jackson,” Waylen says to Robert. “Make it happen.”
Leilani rolls her eyes at Waylen’s pettiness and asks, “Why do you want him to have that necklace?”
Waylen smiles and says, “You’ll see.”
As the auction ends, Waylen takes Leilani’s hand and pulls her to her feet. Together they walk to Jackson’s private room and knock at the door. Jackson opens the door with a woman who’s wearing a dancing mask. The woman seems familiar, but Leilani can’t figure out why.
“Hello, Jackson,” Waylen says, cooly with a glance at the woman. “I got you this necklace as a thank you gift. Maybe you can use it to persuade a woman to sleep with you finally.”
Jackson laughs, his eyes crinkling with amus.e.m.e.nt. He takes the necklace and tosses it carelessly to the woman in the mask. The woman catches it but quickly puts it down on the table. Leilani rolls her eyes and tugs Waylen’s arm, hoping he’ll leave before a real fight starts.
Waylen nods briefly at Jackson and leads Leilani out of the room. In the hall, the auctioneer is waiting for them. The man holds his hand out to shake Waylen’s, but Waylen ignores him.
“Sir, congratulations on getting the rings,” the auctioneer says. “I just received word that you want to have the stones ground. Before I asked my people to do it, I just wanted to confirm that you’re serious about it. You know they will lose a lot of their value if you grind the stone down, right?”
“Do it,” Waylen says.
The auctioneer nods and rushes away. Leilani takes both of Waylen’s hands in hers and looks up into his eyes.
“Are you sure about this?” she asks.
“Yes, I’m sure about this,” Waylen says. He looks deep into Leilani’s eyes and asks, “Will you do it too?”
“No, I won’t,” Leilani answers, looking down at her feet.
“Don’t refuse me, Leilani,” Waylen says, tilting her face up toward him. “You need to prove your loyalty somehow. If you don’t want to get a tattoo, you need to marry me. If you don’t want to marry me, you should get the tattoo.”
Leilani chews her lip and says, “I can’t.”
“Why not?” Waylen asks.
“I’m just worried that the tattoo is too dangerous,” Leilani says.
“So marry me,” he says, his eyes full of hope.
“No, I’d rather get the tattoo,” she whispers.
Waylen’s eyes dim, and he looks away from her. She feels tears fill her eyes, and she’s glad he can’t see them. I’ll never love anyone else, she thinks. I don’t mind getting the tattoo. I don’t believe that the ink will actually kill me if I cheat, but I wouldn’t mind if it did. I’d rather die than make love with Andrew. I just don’t want him to get the tattoo. It hurts to imagine him with another woman, but I don’t want him to be alone for the rest of his life. But I can’t marry him right before I leave him for Andrew.
“Are you sure about this?” Waylen asks. “Once you get the tattoo, you have to be loyal to me, Leilani. If you cheat, you’ll die.”
Leilani nods slowly and says, “Yes, I’m sure.”
Waylen nods and whispers something to Robert. Robert runs out of the room and returns with a pad of paper and a pen. Waylen sits down on the sofa and quickly writes something on the paper. Leilani tries to look, but he covers the paper with his hand.
There’s a knock on the door, and a short man with colorfully tattooed arms enters the room. His muscles bulge as he moves, and the lifelike tattoos seem to ripple and dance. He must be the tattoo artist, Leilani thinks. He opens a leather bag and pulls out several bottles of ink and some needles. Robert passes him a glass jar full of turquoise powder, and the artist carefully mixes it with the ink.
“What design do you want, sir?” the artist asks Waylen.
Waylen passes him the piece of paper, and Leilani looks over his shoulder. The design is simple: Waylen’s initials for her and her initials for Waylen. The tattoo artist nods and dips his needle into the ink. Waylen goes first. Leilani watches as the artist pokes the needle into Waylen’s arm. Though she’s sure it must hurt, Waylen’s face is perfectly calm.
The artist wipes the blood from Waylen’s arms and puts a healing cream on top. Then he gestures for her to sit on the sofa. He wipes her arm with a sterilizing cloth and begins to tattoo her. The pain is excruciating; she digs her nails into her palm, and her eyes fill with tears. Waylen gently strokes her hair, his eyes wide with concern.
“Are you in pain?” he asks her.
Stubbornly, she shakes her head. If Waylen could get the tattoo without complaining, I can do the same, she thinks. I don’t want to look weak. Waylen squints as if he doesn’t believe her, and continues to play with her hair.
It only takes a few minutes for the artist to tattoo Waylen’s initials, but it feels like hours.
When he finishes, he wipes the cream onto Leilani’s arm and leaves the room with a brief nod at Waylen.
Waylen sits next to Leilani and gently kisses her arm above the tattoo. She looks at the tattoo: it’s bright turquoise, but it’s surprisingly delicate and pretty. She touches the initials on her arm and then gently touches Waylen’s arm. His eyes burn with desire, and she quickly pulls her hand away.
Leilani steps through the front door of the mansion. After the flight and the long drive back, she’s almost too tired to stand. She wants to go upstairs and lie down, but she quickly realizes she’s not going to get a lot of rest. Florence Bamford is screaming at the servants from the front sitting room.
“I want the video immediately,” Florence shouts. “I’m telling you, there was a thief on Bamford land. If he gets past the bodyguards, he must be dangerous. We need to know who he is so we can protect ourselves.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t give it to you,” a bodyguard says. “Mr. Bamford is the only one allowed to look at the surveillance footage.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Florence shouts. “Let me see it immediately. I’m his grandmother, and I have every right to know if my grandson and I are in danger.”
“I’m sorry, but I have to wait for Mr. Bamford’s orders,” the bodyguard says. “I can’t show it to you.”
“What about my orders?” Florence yells.
Waylen crosses the hallway and opens the door to the sitting room. Leilani follows behind him, curious to see what’s going on in the sitting room. The bodyguard looks relieved to see Waylen; he quickly walks toward the door as if he’s hoping Waylen will let him leave.
“Oh, Waylen, I’m so glad you’re here,” Florence says from the sofa. “This man won’t let me review the security footage.”
“Why do you need it?” Waylen asks. “You said there was a thief?”
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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