“No,” Leilani snaps. “Now, let me leave.”
Waylen nods once and then backs away. He puts his hand in his pocket and walks back to the sofa with perfect ease. She opens the door and rushes into the hall before he can change his mind. As she walks to Andrew’s room, she wonders why Waylen let her go so easily.
She touches her keycard against the reader on the door, ready to fight with Andrew. She’s not sure what excuse she can make. If he really searched the whole ship, it’ll be hard to think of a convincing lie, she thinks. She’s surprised to see that Andrew’s not alone in the room.
He’s stretched out on the silk sofa, and a tall doctor bends over him. A leather case sits on the floor next to the sofa, and Leilani can see a stethoscope hanging out of it. The doctor straightens up and scribbles something on a touchscreen tablet before turning back to Andrew.
“Mr. Clifford, the HLA matching has been very successful, and your body seems to be accepting the new heart,” the doctor says. “But you need to continue to take immunosuppressants to prevent your immune system from attacking the heart. You also need to rest. That means no heavy exercise and very gentle, limited s.e.x.”
Andrew raises his eyebrows and glances at Leilani, and she feels her face go red. The doctor turns to see what Andrew’s looking at, and Leilani glares at him. He looks down at his tablet in embarrassment and writes something else. Leilani crosses the room and tries to take the tablet from the doctor, but he yanks it out of her reach.
“This tablet contains sensitive medical records,” the doctor says. “No one can look at it without Mr. Clifford’s permission.”
“I see,” she says, trying to get a better look at the tablet.
The doctor catches her looking and locks the screen. Even from a distance, she can tell that it’s protected by fingerprint—Andrew and the doctor are probably the only ones who can unlock it. She sighs and looks down at Andrew. He buttons his shirt and levels a cold, sober look at her.
“Where have you been?” he asks.
Leilani crosses the room and fills a crystal glass with cold water. She holds it out to Andrew, but he refuses to take it. He lays back on the sofa and stares up at her with an unreadable expression. I was so careful to fix my hair and reapply my makeup, and there’s no way he can tell that I just slept with Waylen, she thinks. But he’s staring at me like he knows something. She shifts her weight uncomfortably, puts the glass on the coffee table, and clears her throat.
“You’re not going to like the truth,” she says, feeling guilty. “I was looking for my handbag and—”
Andrew’s face goes white, and he presses his hand to his chest. His eyes are wide and his pupils are huge and black. His skin looks shiny and waxy. His mouth opens as if he’s gasping for air, but no sound comes out.
“Andrew, what’s the matter with you?” she asks, dropping to her knees to check his pulse. “What do you need? Tell me!”
His body goes stiff, and his lips start to take on a sickening, blue color. Leilani grabs his suit jacket and rummages through the pockets, looking for medicine. She finds a yellow pill bottle and pops the cap off.
“How many do you need?” she asks.
“Two,” he says, sounding like the words have been squeezed from his throat.
She shakes the bottle, and dozens of pills spill into her palm and onto the floor. With a trembling hand, she picks two up and puts them into his open mouth. She raises the water to his lips and tips the glass back. He coughs and swallows it, and his tense body slowly relaxes. He closes his eyes and stretches out on the sofa, still breathing heavily.
“Should I call the doctor and ask him to come back?” Leilani asks.
He opens his eyes and stares at her coldly, as if he’s waiting for something. She bites her lip and tries to think of a better way to explain what happened with Waylen. It seems easiest to tell him the truth, but I don’t want to make him sicker, she thinks.
She hesitates and says, “It’s complicated, Andrew.”
He sighs and closes his eyes. His lips still look strangely bloodless, and his skin is covered in a sheen of sweat.
He groans and says, “I don’t want to know.”
“No, I should tell you,” she says. “But I can wait until you feel better.”
“Do you really want to tell me so badly?” he asks.
“If I don’t, I’ll feel guilty,” she says.
Andrew laughs, but it sounds more like a cough. He opens his eyes and watches her thoughtfully. She wonders what he sees when he looks at her. She stares back, worried he’ll have another attack.
“Guilt is the best punishment for you,” he says. “Besides, if you feel guilty, you might be nicer to me. Like right now, for example, you’re not staring at me as you hate me. That’s progress, don’t you think? Our relationship is improving.”
“I’m only nice to you because you’re sick,” she says. “You look terrible, by the way.”
“I’ll take sympathy too,” he says, smiling slightly.
“If you don’t want the doctor, I’ll ask the bodyguards to help move you to your bed,” she says.
“No, you should sleep in the room tonight,” he says. “I haven’t forgotten that you’re pregnant.”
“No way,” she says. “You’re really sick—you need a good night’s sleep. I can sleep on the sofa for a night.”
Andrew winks and says, “Why don’t we both sleep in the bedroom?”
She shakes her head, and he sighs. He lifts his hand and points to the bedroom. Realizing it’s useless to argue, she nods and walks into the bedroom, locking the door behind her.
Jessica stumbles across the dance floor. Brightly colored lights flash overhead and loud music seems to shake the room. The ship’s club and bar are packed with people drinking, dancing, and enjoying the dark corners.
“Miss Clifford,” James calls out as he chases after her.
Jessica stumbles, and James’ strong hand grabs her arm and supports her. She jerks her arm away and stumbles again. I knew I shouldn’t have worn such high heels, she thinks. Probably shouldn’t have had all that wine either.
“Get your hands off me,” she snaps. “If Jackson sees you, you’re as good as dead. I don’t think he knows that you’re the man who took my v.i.r.g.i.nity, but it wouldn’t be hard for him to find out.”
She stumbles away from James, pushing past sweaty couples grinding on each other. The flashing lights make her feel dizzy, and the booming music hurts her ears. She can’t decide if she wants to sit down and cry or punch James in the face. He ruined everything, but he acts so calm, she thinks angrily. I never cared about my v.i.r.g.i.nity that much, but Jackson did. And James just took it. If I can’t get Jackson back, I swear I’ll find a way to make James pay.
“Miss Clifford, wait,” James shouts, shoving dancers aside. “It’s not a good idea to go looking for Jackson like this. He might not want to see you.”
Jessica spins around to glare at him. He stares at her with perfect calm. I wish I could slap that look off of his face, she thinks. How dare he tell me about Jackson!
James raises his eyebrows and says, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to cause offense.”
She raises her rand to slap him but lets it fall at her side. He nods slightly and turns to leave.
“Wait, James, where are you going?” she asks.
James narrows his eyes and says, “I thought you were worried that Jackson would see me.”
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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