Leilani hooks her fingers around the bottom of a share. Her injured shoulder aches as she clings on for her dear life. Something whacks her in the side of the head, and little black dots appear in her version. She turns her head and sees the transmitter swinging on the end of its cord.
“Leilani, are you okay?” Waylen’s voice asks.
The helicopter creaks as it tilts in the air, and then she hears a harsh metallic grinding. One of the champagne bottles slides across the floor and whacks her painfully in the arm. She reaches for the next seat and just manages to grab the base. Slowly, she pulls herself toward the center of the helicopter. As her weight shifts, the helicopter begins to straighten out, but the grinding continues.
She lies on the floor, panting and exhausted. Before she can catch her breath, the helicopter tilts sharply forward. Her shoulder jerks painfully, and she feels herself flying through the air. She crashes into the partition behind the pilot’s chair and feels the breath left her body. A sharp pain spreads through her abdomen. “Please help me, Waylen,” she m.o.a.ns.
Waylen’s voice comes from somewhere behind her, “Leilani, listen to me. Get into the c.o.c.kpit and grab the lever with the red handle. Pull it down slowly until the helicopter straightens out.”
She can see the tip of the red lever; it’s only a few feet away, but her entire body aches as if it’s broken. She bites her lip and slowly crawls forward. Every motion sends stabs of pain through her stomach, but she continues pulling herself across the floor. She reaches up, and her fingers brush handle. Slowly she bends them, and then she pulls with all her strength.
The helicopter stops falling and begins to even out, but she can feel every muscle in her body weakening. One by one, her sweaty fingers begin to slip from the lever. The helicopter shakes violently.
“Bring us above her helicopter,” Waylen shouts over the wild wind. He grabs a rope ladder from an emergency compartment near the door and yanked it firmly to test its strength.
“No, sir,” Robert says, “It’s way too dangerous. Send a bodyguard instead.”
Waylen ignores Robert’s warning and tosses the ladder out the open door. He lowers himself to the floor and carefully sticks his legs out the door and into the night. He grips the ladder with both hands and slowly begins to climb. The violent wind wh.i.p.s his clothing and makes it difficult to breathe. Above him, he can see Robert shouting, but it’s impossible to hear the butler’s words over the thrumming of the propellers.
The long rope dangerously swings as Waylen climbs. He looks worriedly at the helicopter below. It’s stopped plunging toward the Earth, but it wobbles violently in the air. Even if Leilani can keep the helicopter from crashing, Waylen doesn’t know how he’ll get inside. If he gets too close, the helicopter’s blades will slice through the ladder and send him falling to his death.
Suddenly, Waylen loses his footing. His foot slips on one of the rope rungs, and his body swings through the air. The rope burns his palms, but he tightens his grip and kicks his legs out in front of him, hooking his leg around the ladder. Then he continues his dangerous descent.
Leilani screams as her last finger slides from the lever. The helicopter immediately begins to plunge toward the ground, and she’s thrown into the dashboard. The levers and buttons dig painfully into her side, but she manages to grab the lever again. She grits her teeth and pulls.
The helicopter evens out, but not before it scr.a.p.es the top of a tree. The metal grates loudly against the wood, making a terrible tearing sound. She inhales painfully and pulls harder on the lever, slowly gaining altitude. Adrenaline courses through her veins, and the pain seems to ease.
She looks at the complex control panel and bites her lip. She has no idea what the hundreds of buttons and switches do. She tugs the black cord, pulling the transmitter back up to the cabin. “Waylen, what should I do?” she asks, desperately hoping that he’ll hear her. “I don’t know how to fly this thing.”
The transmitter crackles. “Wait for me,” Waylen’s voice says.
“Waylen, I can barely hear you,” Leilani says, “Tell me quickly how to land this thing. I don’t even know where to land it.”
“Hold it steady,” Waylen says, “I’m coming for you.”
“I’m scared, Waylen,” Leilani says.
“Listen to me, and it’s going to be okay,” Waylen says. “Now tell me, what’s the first thing you want to do when we’re safely on the ground? I know what I want to do.”
“I don’t want to know,” Leilani screams as the helicopter tilts sideways. “I want to know which buttons I should press.”
She waits for his reply but hears nothing but static and wind. Something crashes loudly behind her, and the helicopter tilts sharply. She screams and desperately looks for something to press. A warm hand rests gently on her shoulder, and she recognizes the long fingers immediately—Waylen. He’s panting heavily, and his hands are cold and rubbed raw and red. There’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and his hair is messy and windblown.
He takes control immediately, flipping switches and pressing buttons like a pro. As he works, he stands behind her, bracing himself against the back of her seat. His familiar scent engulfs her, and she inhales deeply. Within minutes, the helicopter steadies and starts to move forward.
“Did you miss me?” he asks. Though he doesn’t look away from the control panel, his voice is low and sincere.
Leilani feels her heart hammering in her chest, and she knows it has nothing to do with the adrenaline. The relief has vanished, and all of the old anger and hurt have replaced it. “Not for a second,” she snaps.
“You always say no when you mean yes,” Waylen says. “If you say you don’t miss me, it means you must miss me. If you say you don’t love me, it means you must love me. If you tell me to leave you, it means you must want me to stay.”
Leilani wants to scream. Her entire body was on fire with pain, and she’s almost just died, and all Waylen can talk about is love.
“Tell me honestly, do you love me?” he asks. When she doesn’t reply, he bends over her head, brushing his lips against her hair. “If you don’t answer, I’m going to kiss you.”
Leilani shakes her head, dizzily. Black spots appear before her eyes, and a loud humming sound fills her ears. She looks up at Waylen, and his face looks blurry. His mouth seems to be moving, but she can’t hear words. The black spots grow bigger and bigger, and then she’s engulfed in darkness.
The first thing she hears when she wakes is her name. Her eyes flutter open, and she stares up into Waylen’s pale face. His forehead is knotted with concern, and he whispers her name over and over like a prayer. One hand cradles her face while the other gently probes her head for injuries. She swallows painfully. “It’s not my head,” she whispers. “My stomach—”
A fresh wave of pain makes it impossible to talk. She clutches her abdomen and m.o.a.ns. Waylen’s lips turn downward, and his face twists terribly with rage. He doesn’t seem to know where to put his hands, and he winces every time she m.o.a.ns. She curls into a fetal position and closes her eyes.
“Darling, it’s going to be okay,” he whispers. “We’re back in my helicopter, and we’re going to the hospital. You’re going to be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
He takes her in his arms and pulled her onto his lap. She can tell he’s gentle, but every movement is agonizing. She can feel the darkness rising again, and she lets it take her.
The helicopter touches down on the hospital’s rooftop helipad. A bodyguard throws the door open, and Waylen stands. He moves carefully to avoid jostling Leilani. She m.o.a.ns in his arms, and her head lolls to the side. She’s like a broken doll in his arms.
Outside, a team of emergency technicians and doctors are waiting with a stretcher. Waylen gently lays her on top, and the technicians quickly strap her down. They wheel her away at a steady jog, and Waylen follows behind. The white hospital corridors seem endless, and the stench of bleach burns his nose. They wind through the maze-like passages, finally arriving outside an operating room. Waylen tries to follow them through the door, but a doctor bars his way.
“I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t come in,” the doctor says. “Surgeons and nurses only—we have to keep the room as sanitary as possible.”
Waylen scowls and tries to shove the doctor aside. He can’t bear to leave Leilani’s side.
“Sir, it’s for her own safety,” the bold doctor says, “You can wait outside in the waiting area. We’ll give you updates as soon as we have an accurate understanding of her condition.”
Waylen groans and sinks into a hard leather chair. Though he’s in the VIP wing of one of the most exclusive private hospitals, the chair is incredibly uncomfortable. He stands and paces the waiting area. A clock on the wall ticks loudly, and his footsteps echoed in the empty room. Every now and then, he could hear a metallic clank and the muffled voices of doctors and nurses from the operating room.
With each noise, his blood runs cold, and his mind races. He imagines them cutting the fetus out of Leilani. Then he sees Leilani dying on the operating table, the color draining from her face as she bleeds out. He hears the long, flat beep of the heart monitor as her heart stops forever.
He slams his fist into the white walls and the plaster cracks with a satisfying crunch. He draws his arm back and hits it again and again, imagining the cracked wall is the surgeons’ face, and then Andrew, and Michelle. When he pulls his hand away, white paint ch.i.p.s and dust stick to his bloody knuckles. The ache in his bruised fingers is a welcome distraction.
Minutes pass and then hours. Waylen slumps into the chair and waits for news. He wonders why it’s taking so long. Admittedly, it shouldn’t take this much time, he thinks. Has something gone wrong? Have they lost the baby? Have they lost Leilani? He’s about to charge into the operating room when he hears footsteps. He jumped to his feet, but immediately sits back down—it’s just Robert.
“Sir, we have to talk,” Robert says nervously. “As soon as your grandfather hears that Leilani is in the hospital, he’s going to want access to all information concerning the fetus’ health.”
“So?” Waylen asks.
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.