Leilani is done groveling to Mrs. Florence Bamford. The old woman has always disrespected her and mistreated her, and Leilani refuses to respect her just because of her status. Ever since she married Waylen, Florence Bamford has been nothing but vicious toward Leilani in an attempt to ruin the marriage.
“Well, I’ll be divorcing Waylen soon,” Leilani thinks, “Then we’ll both get what we want.”
Leilani exits the sitting room calmly. The servants pause and gape at her—they’ve never seen her leave that room unharmed. Earlier in the morning, Mrs. Bamford slapped her across the face without hesitation.
“Something strange is going on,” they think.
Leilani scoffs and ignores their stares. A tall and devilishly handsome figure is standing in front of a window, illuminated by the sunshine. He hears her footsteps and quickly walks toward her. He meets her in front of another window, and his tall frame ominously blocks the sunlight. His face is unreadable.
“Mr. Bamford,” she says cooly, “What a nice surprise.”
“Don’t talk to me like that,” Waylen frowns and his eyes wander over her body, “Where did they hit you this time?”
“Are you worried or simply curious?”
Ignoring her question, Waylen tugs her arm and forces her to spin in a slow circle. He can’t find any trace of an injury on her, and his jaw relaxes.
He’s worried about her. For three years, he didn’t give a second thought to his wife’s regular beatings, but hearing of his grandmother’s intentions made him surprisingly anxious today. He couldn’t help but imagine her perfect body marked with bruises and cuts, and the thought made him confusingly upset. Seeing her in one piece, he feels relief. He doesn’t understand it.
“Escort Mrs. Bamford back to the room,” he orders.
He decides he wants to have a word with his grandmother; he needs to know what happened in her sitting room. As he approaches the door, he hears his grandmother’s disgruntled voice, “I’m furious. I’ve never met someone this rude and subordinate.”
Leonie consoles her, “Mrs. Bamford, calm down. It’s not worth getting mad about her.”
It doesn’t seem like anything serious has occurred. Waylen pauses. He’s not in the mood to deal with his grandmother.
“Find out what happened,” he tells Robert.
He paces the hall as he waits for Robert. Within minutes, Robert returns with a tablet. He cues the surveillance footage and shows Waylen.
Leilani appears on the screen. “Mrs. Fletcher, I’d appreciate it if you whip me in the back,” she says, “I have interviews with journalists from two newspapers. I’m to meet them in a halter top, and I already promised to pose for some photos.”
Waylen fasts forward until he sees Leilani speaking again, “I don’t have the nerve to play any games. I’m only negotiating with Maureen,” Leilani says, “I guess she could slap me in the face if she wants to. Makeup won’t cover it, but that’s alright. It’ll make for an interesting interview, no? How’s this for a headline: Inside Mrs. Florence Bamford’s Sitting Room—The Old Sword is Still Sharp.”
Robert gasps. He can’t believe this is Leilani.
“No wonder she left Mrs. Bamford’s sitting room unharmed,” he thinks, “She knows how to manipulate the old woman.”
He squints at Waylen to judge his boss’s reaction. Waylen is wearing a strange expression, a mix of surprise and some other emotion Robert can’t recognize. Waylen replays the video again and again. Finally, he clicks save and stores the video file permanently.
Waylen rushes to his bedroom. At the door, a maid informs him that Leilani is sleeping. She is curled up in the duvet, and the bulky fabric disguises the shape of her body. Blonde curly hair spills across the pillow. Her curly eyelashes flicker and tremble. Her fair neck and delicate collar bone peek out from beneath the duvet. Waylen feels desire pumping through his blood.
“She used to be like a soulless puppet,” Waylen thinks, “But now she’s found one—God knows where she got it—and she seems determined to challenge, annoy, and humiliate him.”
He wants nothing more than to conquer her. She m.o.a.ns and tosses in her sleep. Her face, buried deep in the pillow, turns toward him. Her cheeks are unusually red and she murmurs something. Waylen leans down, and her boiling hot breath blows across his ear.
“Just let me go, let me leave,” she m.o.a.ns.
He frowns. Does she even dream of leaving him? In the past, he couldn’t get rid of her no matter how he tried, but now she looks for every possible opportunity to leave him. What did the hell happen? His curiosity about her is out of control.
He reaches out to touch her forehead and frowns harder. The skin feels scorching hot under his palm. He presses the bell and calls for Dr. Walter.
David takes a look at the thermometer, “She has a high fever,” he confirms, “It’s 39.2 degrees Celsius. Over-excitement from the drug and the cold bath may have caused it. I’ll prescribe something for her.”
David stands awkwardly after writing the prescription. Leilani is sleeping with her hands in the quilt. He wants to check her pulse, but he needs to touch her hand for that. He’s not sure how Waylen will react to a request to touch his wife.
“I have to—”
“Go find me a nurse,” Waylen interrupts, “And make yourself scarce.”
Waylen wraps the blankets protectively around Leilani as if to defend his territory. Leilani is uncomfortable under the heat of the blankets and throws them off. David runs out of the room, afraid he’ll accidentally see some part of her he’s not supposed to see. Waylen seems jealous enough to gouge his eyes out.
Waylen sits on the bed and watches Leilani sleep fitfully. Finally, Leilani hums and struggles to open her eyes. She sees a familiar figure leaning over her.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
“Are you feeling better? Does anything hurt?”
He reaches out and tries to brush her sweaty hair away from her face. Though she’s quite sick, she adamantly turns her head away, avoiding his fingers.
“Yes,” Leilani complains, “It hurts wherever you touch me.”
In spite of her illness, she’s still as sharp as ever.
Waylen grabs her jaw, “Can’t you tell how ill you are?”
“Thanks to you.”
If it wasn’t for Waylen, she never would have been exposed to the aphrodisiac and she wouldn’t have had to take the cold bath. She buries her face in the pillow and tries to ignore her husband. But her stomach isn’t as tough as her mouth, and it growls with hunger—she hasn’t eaten all day.
“Are you hungry?” Waylen asks.
“I’m not,” Leilani answers testily, “Would you please just leave me alone?”
“What a stubborn wildcat,” Waylen thinks. He’s never been this tender with a woman before, but his concern seems to have no effect on Leilani. Despite her fever, her attitude is icy. Waylen rings for the servants and asks them to bring Leilani food.
“I won’t eat it. I just want to sleep,” she protests, “You can show yourself out.”
“You can go to sleep after you eat,” he tells her.
He gestures for the servants to bring the food to his bed. Leilani is too weak to feed herself, but no matter how the maids try to feed her, she refuses by turning her head away.
Waylen’s eyes darken, “Get out.”
Leilani and the maids freeze with shock. Terrified that Waylen might fly into one of his rages, the maids run from the room. Waylen rolls up his sleeves, revealing his muscled arms. He sits on the edge of the bed and grabs the spoon the maid dropped.
“I’ll feed you.”
Leilani scoffs incredulously at him.
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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