Chapter 287 – An Unbreakable Vow with the Heartless Tycoon

Waylen stops thrusting, but he stays inside her. He reaches over to the nightstand and grabs the recording pen. He holds it inches from her mouth.

“Tell me you love me first,” he says.

She presses her lips together and shakes her head. He probably just wants it so he can show it to Andrew. I’m just a pawn in their rivalry with each other. She struggles against the restraints on her wrists, trying to take the recorder away from him.

“Say you love me, and I’ll let you go,” Waylen says.

“Don’t force me to say it,” she says. “It means nothing if you force me to say it.”

“If I don’t force you to say it, you won’t say it,” Waylen says. “Even when we were married, you wouldn’t say it.”

“I won’t,” she says. “It’s meaningless to force me to say it.”

“This is your last chance,” Waylen warns, holding the pen in front of her face.

“No,” she says.

Waylen laughs, throws the recorder onto the floor, and shouts, “Let him in.”

Leilani shakes her head and tries to move away. What the hell is wrong with him—he’s still inside me, and he’s asking Andrew to come in, she thinks. Is this what gets him off? Is he some kind of sick exhibitionist, or does he just like humiliating Andrew?

“Waylen, stop it!” she whispers. “I’ll say it. I’ll say whatever you want. Just don’t let him in. I love you, okay? I love you, and I love you, I love you.”

“I’m glad to hear it, but you’re a bit too late, Mrs. Clifford,” Waylen says. “Your husband is about to get quite the show.”

Leilani looks around with desperate panic. At any second, Andrew will walk through the door, and there’s nowhere for her to hide. Waylen starts thrusting again, and she can tell he’s getting close to finishing. His movements are rough and punishing, and he pulls her closer to him. His breathing goes rough and ragged, and his eyes filled with determination. He bites her shoulder, and she curls her fingers into her palms.

Waylen groans, and his body tenses on top of hers, and then he slowly relaxes. Reluctantly, he pulls himself out of her and pulls the quilt over their heads. He’s still on top of her, and the weight of his body and clean dampness of his skin overwhelm her. Beneath him and the thick quilt, it’s almost impossible to breathe.

Hurried footsteps approach the bed, and she tries to hold her breath. She hears Andrew clear his throat, and Waylen rolls off her and pulls the quilt off his head. She bites down on her tongue and digs her fingers into her palms, wondering if Waylen will betray her to Andrew.

“Mr. Clifford, don’t you think it’s a bit impolite to interrupt me when I’m doing something so personal?” Waylen asks.

Beneath the sheets, she feels his hand searching. He finds her b.r.e.a.s.t and traces a slow circle with his fingertip. She bites her tongue harder and forces herself to stay still.

“I’m looking for my fiancée,” Andrew says. “I’m pretty sure I know exactly where I’ll find her, too.”

Waylen pinches her n.i.p.p.l.e and asks, “Why would she be here?”

Leilani gasps quietly. She wants to get away from Waylen’s hand or kick him under the covers, but it’s too dangerous to move. His smell overwhelms her, and she feels dizzy and hot.

“We’ve checked every place on board,” Andrew says, his voice sounding closer. “Well, everywhere but your rooms, of course.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Clifford, but your fiancée isn’t here,” Waylen says.

There’s a long silence, and then Andrew asks, “Are you serious?”

“Always,” Waylen says.

“Well then, you won’t mind if I search the room, will you?” Andrew asks, his voice defiant.

“It all depends on where you want to search,” Waylen says with a low chuckle. “You can look anywhere but under my sheets. My new lover is a shy woman.”

“What if I insist?” Andrew asks. “It could be her under there. Besides, everyone says you can’t have any other woman—something about a tattoo?”

“This is my bedroom,” Waylen says, his voice low and dangerous. “What gives you the right to burst in here while I’m with a woman and demand to look around?”

Leilani feels a drop of sweat trickle down her back. She wants to wipe it away, but she can’t move. The thick quilt feels suffocating, and her skin feels burning hot. She wonders if she’ll pass out. If he doesn’t leave soon, I might, she thinks.

“Mr. Clifford, may I show you out?” Robert asks.

Leilani’s heart pounds in her chest. Will he leave? She wonders. Or will he stay and look under the covers? Andrew sighs loudly, and Leilani strains her ears to hear his footsteps on the thick wool carpet. The door creaks open and then closes with a loud bang. Waylen pulls the quilt away, and the cold, air-conditioned air washes over her. She shivers as the sweat cools on her skin.

“Untie me,” she says, tugging her arms.

Waylen nods and unknots the silk ties. Her shoulders ache, and her wrists are red. She stretches her arms and rubs the soft skin of her wrists, wondering how she’ll explain the marks to Andrew. Waylen sits on the edge of the bed and watches her with a strange look in his eyes.

“You should shower before you return to Andrew,” he says. “I’ll have a servant press the wrinkles out of your clothes.”

She nods, and he wraps his arms around her waist and picks her up bridal style. She’s too tired to protest as he carries her to the bathroom. He puts her down in the shower and turns the water on. She puts her palm on his chest and shakes her head.

“Get out,” she says. “I want to shower by myself.”

Waylen shrugs and leaves the bathroom. She stays in the shower until the water starts to cool, scrubbing every inch of her body. The hot water calms her, and she tries to forget about what she’s just done with Waylen. When she gets out, her suit is hanging for her on the bathroom door. She dresses and dries her hair.

Waylen is sitting in the living room dressed in a clean suit, and her handbag is on the table in front of him. She grabs it and looks through it—her phone and wallet are still there, but the recording pen is gone. She sighs, slings her bag over her shoulders, and heads toward the door without a word.

“Well, Miss Peters, it’s clear now that you prefer affairs,” Waylen says. “I wish I’d known that before I went to all that trouble to make you my wife.”

“I don’t care what you think about me,” she lies. “And this will be the last time you ever lay hands on me. I hope you enjoyed it.”

“Have you slept with Andrew yet?” Waylen asks.

Leilani bites her tongue and turns the door handle. What should I say? She wonders. If I say I have, he might leave me alone, or he might get jealous and try harder to get me into bed again. If I say I haven’t, he might think he still has a chance with me. Her palms start to sweat, and she wipes them on her pants.

“Answer the question,” Waylen says.

She shakes her head and opens the door. Suddenly, Waylen is behind her. He slams the door shut and turns her to face him. He tilts her head upward and stares deep into her eyes.

“Miss Peters, I’ve asked you a question,” Waylen says. “It’s easy—I just need a yes or a no.”

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