Chapter 283 – An Unbreakable Vow with the Heartless Tycoon

“Oh Felicity,” Andrew says, his voice low and rough. “I wish you could love me.”

Leilani wants to make a sarcastic comment, but she doesn’t have the energy to fight with him. She looks down at her shoes and nods slightly. He pulls her face back up toward his. Their noses almost brush.

“Promise me?” he says. “If you can’t love me, let me believe you do. Don’t spend any more time with other men.”

“Okay, yes, I promise,” she whispers miserably.

Andrew smiles and kisses her forehead. “Good, take a shower and get his cologne off you,” he says. “I made a reservation for us at the restaurant. I’ll meet you there.”

Leilani nods again, and he leaves the room, shutting the door softly behind him. As soon as he’s gone, she sinks into the plush carpet and cries bitterly. She can smell both of the men on her, and it makes her feel sick. They’re all the same, she thinks. They want my body, they want to show me off like a trophy, but they don’t actually care about me. I’m just like the women the men bet in the casino, but Waylen and Andrew are playing a much bigger game with me.

She stumbles to her feet and walks to the bathroom. She steps into the shower and turns the water as hot as it will go, and she scrubs her skin until it tingles. Then she selects a casual, white broad-legged suit. She braids her hair over her shoulder and applies some bright red lipstick.

She walks to the hall and gets into the elevator. As the door is closing, she sees Waylen, Robert, and the escort walking down the hall. She presses the close door button, but Robert jogs ahead and sticks his hand between the closing doors.

“Excuse me,” she says, getting out of the elevator. “I’ll take the next one.”

Robert glances at Waylen and says, “No, no, Miss Peters, please come in.”

“Really, it’s all right,” Leilani says. “I can wait for the next one.”

“I insist,” Robert says, keeping his hand on the doors so they can’t close.

The elevator starts to beep loudly, and Leilani sighed. It seems that Robert won’t move his hand until she gets on. She steps onto the elevator, trying to keep as much distance between her body and Waylen’s as possible.

Waylen doesn’t seem quite as drunk as before, but he looks past her as if she’s not there. The escort sighs dramatically toss her hair and reaches for Waylen’s arm. Waylen jerks it away, and the escort turns to glare at Leilani. Leilani presses herself into the corner of the elevator and waits for it to move. They only have to go two floors, but it feels like an eternity. The escort’s perfume is cloying and terrible, and Waylen’s icy indifference is worse.

When the elevator finally arrives on the third floor, she breathes a sigh of relief. A s.e.xy female voice announces the floor number and lists the amenities available on the third floor. Then the doors slowly slide open. Leilani gratefully breathes the fresh air and rushes out of the elevator before the doors have fully opened. She can feel the escort’s eyes boring into her back as she rushes into the restaurant.

A waiter greets her and leads her to Andrew’s table. He’s sitting next to a large, floor-to-ceiling window. The window is closed to protect them from the cold sea winds, but it’s nice to look out at the palm trees on the deck of the ship and the dark water below.

Andrew jumps to his feet and pulls out her chair. He looks at the people behind her and raises his eyebrows suspiciously at her. She shakes her head slowly, but he still looks upset.

“What a coincidence to run into Waylen here,” Andrew says. “Tell me, wife, did you take the elevator down with him?”

“Why do you think you can call me your wife?” Leilani asks angrily.

“We’re going to get married, and it’s not strange for a husband to call his wife by her title.”

“I’m just not used to it,” Leilani says.

“Well, you’ll just have to get used to it,” Andrew says, staring at her intensely. “It’s normal for married couples to call each other husband and wife.”

“I’m not really fond of that,” Leilani says. “I like it better when you call me Felicity.”

“I admire your spunk, but I have the right to call you whatever I want,” Andrew says, his voice getting louder. “And I want to call you my wife. After all, you’re the first woman I’ve ever wanted to marry.”

Leilani opens the menu and uses it to hide her face. She doesn’t want to get into a public argument with him. She pretends to be deeply interested in the specials, but she has trouble focusing on the words on the menu. Everything seems to blur together, and she has to read each dish five times before she understands what it is.

A waiter walks over to the table carrying a tray. He places the tray on the table and offers Andrew a cup filled with some sort of red juice. A small red flag dangles from the side of the cup.

“Good evening, Mr. Clifford,” the waiter says. “Mr. Oliver sends you this pomegranate juice along with his congratulations. He hopes you’ll enjoy your victory.”

Andrew raises his eyebrows and glances across the room at Waylen’s table. The corner of his mouth twitches.

“Send my thanks to Mr. Oliver,” he says. “I am curious though, what did he send to Waylen?”

Leilani turns to look across the room at Waylen. He’s sitting with the escort near a window and scowling at a crystal glass filled with a lime green liquid. A small white flag hangs off the side of the cup.

“I believe Mr. Bamford has been served a limeade,” the waiter says. “It’s especially sour.”

Andrew laughs loudly and raises his juice toward Waylen in a toast. Waylen ignores him and downs the sour drink in a single swallow. Leilani turns to look at Andrew and rolls her eyes.

“Jackson may be a pain in my ass, but he has a great sense of humor,” Andrew says. “The white flag represents Waylen’s surrender, and the drink is as sour as defeat.”

“You don’t need to explain it to me,” Leilani says with a sigh. “I understood the joke. It wasn’t especially subtle.”

Andrew seems to be in too good a mood to care. He flips through the menu, smiling to himself. Finally, he tosses the booklet down on the table and smiles at Leilani.

“What does my dear wife want?” Andrew asks.

“I’ll have escargot, foie gras, and pasta,” Leilani says, snapping the menu shut. She looks up at the waiter and adds, “Please hurry—I’m quite hungry.”

She glances over at Waylen and the escort as the waiter walks away. The sooner I eat, the sooner I can get out of here, she thinks. As they wait, Andrew tries to make small talk, but she shoots him an icy glare, and he stops.

The food arrives quickly, and Leilani begins to cut her foie gras into small pieces. She bends her head over the plate, trying to ignore everyone else around her. She stabs a small bite of the rich food with her fork and raises it to her mouth. Another fork knocks hers aside—Andrew has reached across the table and is trying to feed her.

She stares at him and shakes her head. Without breaking eye contact, she puts her fork down, takes her napkin off her lap, and presses her lips together. He’s clearly just showing off because Waylen is here, she thinks. I’m so sick of these childish games—they act like children fighting over a toy.

“Mrs. Clifford, what are you waiting for?” Andrew asks, his voice low and velvety. “Surely, you’re not worried about people seeing us together.”

Leilani glares at him, but opens her mouth and lets him feed her. She chews slowly, appreciating the rich, complex flavors. Andrew leans back in his chair and watches her, like a man enjoying a theater performance. She takes another bite and then slams her fork onto the table.

“I’m going to lose my appetite if you keep staring at me like this,” she snaps.

“You’re so cute when you eat,” Andrew says, unbothered by her outburst.

Leilani closes her eyes and counts to ten, trying to calm the rage rising in her chest. A rough thumb traces her lips, and her eyes fly open. Andrew finishes wiping her mouth and then licks his finger. Leilani fights the urge to stab him with her fork.

“You had some foie gras on your lip,” he says.

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