“What is it, old man?” Waylen snaps. “Speak up!”
“It’s something about their uniforms,” the fisherman says. “Can I take a closer look?”
The man approaches the bodyguards and looks at the embroidered thistles on their shirts. All Bamford family bodyguards wear a shirt with the family symbol on it. The man strokes his old face and squints.
“What is it?” Waylen asks impatiently.
“I think the men had something like this on their shirts, too,” the old man says. “But it was dark, and I couldn’t tell what it was. I did find something strange on the beach, though.”
He hobbles across the room and opens a small wooden box. He digs around inside it and pulls out a bronze bullet. Waylen grabs it from his hand and holds it up to the light. The name “Clifford” is scratched neatly into the side of the bullet.
Robert’s phone beeps loudly, and Waylen turns to glare at him. Robert looks at the message, and his face pales.
“Sir, I just got a message that says that Mrs. Bamford just returned home in Andrew Clifford’s car,” Robert says.
Waylen grabs Robert’s gun and slips the bronze bullet inside. He squeezes the trigger, and a loud bang echoed through the room. A thin coil of smoke rises from the gun, and the burnt smell of gunpowder fills the air. The old fisherman dives to the ground and puts his hands over his head, but Waylen hasn’t shot him. Instead, he’s shot a hole in the white wall.
“Andrew Clifford is going to pay,” Waylen says.
Leilani wakes from a nightmare and sits up in her bed. In her dream, a man with a terrible dark shadow shot a bullet straight through Andrew Clifford’s heart. Andrew fell to the ground and screamed in pain, and then his face blurred and melted and became Charles’ face.
She wipes the cold sweat from her forehead and breathes a sigh of relief. She lies back down and rolls over, surprised to find an empty space in the bed. She was hoping Waylen would come to find her when he returned home. She closes her eyes and tries to think about their child. She’s about to fall asleep when someone knocks loudly on the door. She tries to ignore it, but the knocking gets louder and faster.
“Who’s there?” she asks irritably, “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
She sits up and reaches for the bedside lamp. She clicks it on and checks the clock—it’s 2:00 AM. She groans and rubs her eyes.
“Mrs. Bamford, it’s me,” Robert says.
Leilani feels her blood run cold. If Robert is back at the mansion, Waylen must be back too, she thinks. But if Waylen is back, why hasn’t he come to see me? Is something wrong? She leaps to her feet and grabs the silk robe at the foot of her bed. She ties it around her waist and walks barefoot to the door. Robert looks exhausted and unhappy.
“Where’s Waylen?” Leilani asks, as her heart pounds anxiously in her chest. “Is there something wrong with him? What happened?”
“Mr. Bamford is fine,” Robert says. He pauses awkwardly and continues, “Well, he’s mostly fine. He’s had a few drinks.”
“He’s been drinking?” Leilani asks. “Why? Is he alone? What happened?”
“He heard that you returned to the mansion in Mr. Clifford’s car,” Robert says. “The bodyguards told him that you were sitting in the backseat with Mr. Clifford. He’s a bit…upset.”
Leilani sighs heavily. She knows that Waylen is possessive and jealous, but she thought he’d stopped caring about Andrew. She wonders if he’s angry at her, but she doesn’t feel comfortable asking Robert. If she’s honest with herself, she’s scared to hear the answer.
“Is he very drunk?” Leilani asks.
“Um, well, he’s a bit unreasonable,” Robert says. “I was hoping you could go talk to him. I think it might calm him.”
Leilani wraps her arms around herself and says, “Okay, I’ll go, but I’m not so sure it’s a good idea.”
“Mrs. Bamford, I don’t mean to speak out of place, but well, we all know that Mr. Bamford really cares about you,” Robert says. “When you were with Mr. Clifford, Mr. Bamford sank into a deep depression. He spent his days alone, drinking in the dark. Now that you’re back, he still spends some nights alone in the study with a glass of whiskey.
“He worries about you and the baby, and honestly, I’m worried about him. I’ve tried to talk to him about it, but he doesn’t want to hear my opinion. But he listens to you, Mrs. Bamford. Please talk to him and tell him that everything is okay.”
Leilani chews her lip. She has trouble believing everything Robert has said. Surely he must be exaggerating the story about Waylen’s depression. She knows that Waylen cares about her, but she can’t believe that his feelings go so deep. Waylen can be moody, but the thought of him drinking alone in the dark all day is crazy to her.
Leilani opens the door to the study and slips inside. She’s surprised to find the room empty. There’s a small bar in the back corner, so Waylen can offer drinks to business partners during meetings. One of the glass-paneled cabinets is hanging open, and several bottles seem to be missing from their place on the shelf.
The other corner of the study connects to a short hallway that leads to a guest bedroom. If a meeting goes late, the visiting businessman or woman can stay in the guest room. More often, Waylen sleeps in the bedroom when he’s working on an important project and doesn’t want to be disturbed by anyone else in the house. The door to the hallway is open, and a light is on.
Leilani walks into the guest bedroom. The sheets of the king-sized bed have been pulled back, but the bed is empty. She hears the sound of running water in the en suite bathroom and opens the door. A wave of hot steam rushes out, and the fans the air around her. Waylen steps out of the shower, completely n.a.k.e.d.
Water drips down his chiseled chest and abs to his member. Waylen coughs, and she realizes she’s staring at it. She looks up at him and feels the blood rise to her face. Her ears get hot, and she stares pointedly at her own feet.
“Can you put a towel on?” she asks.
“You didn’t seem to mind my n.a.k.e.dness a second ago,” Waylen says. Though his words are flirty, his voice is weirdly flat and cold. “Besides, it’s not like you’ve never seen me n.a.k.e.d before.”
“You sound weird—are you drunk?” Leilani asks.
“Look at me if you want to talk to me,” Waylen says.
Leilani quickly looks up, careful to avoid staring at his crotch. His lips were pressed into a thin, angry line, and his eyes are sharp and cold. Though he’s wet and n.a.k.e.d, he radiates power and control. Leilani squints at him—he doesn’t seem drunk, just furious.
“Waylen, I came to talk,” Leilani says. “But before you do, can you please put some clothes on? Or at least wrap a towel around yourself?”
Waylen ignores her question and says, “Come dry my hair for me.”
Leilani sighs and grabs two large white towels. She carefully wraps one around his waist. Every time her fingers brush his damp skin, she feels a jolt of electricity in her stomach. He sits down on a stool, and she stands behind him and rubbed his hair with the second towel. He smells like shampoo and mint, and she inhales deeply.
She steps back, and her foot bumps something cold. It falls over with a loud, clattering sound. She looks down and sees an empty wine bottle, and there’s another half-empty bottle next to it. Waylen isn’t drunk, but he has been drinking.
Leilani wants to ask him why he’s drinking. She wants to explain what happened with Andrew at the police station: the way he threatened her again, the deal he forced her to make, the kiss that wasn’t really a kiss at all. But she doesn’t know where to begin. When Waylen is in his jealous mood, he doesn’t believe anything she says.
Suddenly Waylen turns around, grabs her waist, and pulls her onto his lap. She lands with a little gasp and drops the towel.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks her. “You seem distracted. Maybe you’re wishing you were with another man, drying his hair instead of mine.”
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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