Chapter 316 – An Unbreakable Vow with the Heartless Tycoon

“You brought this whole mess upon yourself,” she says.

“But what if I get worse in the night and need help?” he asks. “Please stay.”

“We agreed that we wouldn’t sleep in the same room before the baby was born,” she says. “Please keep your promises.”

“What are you afraid of?” he asks. “You’re still pregnant, so I won’t do anything. Besides, as much as I might want to, I can’t try anything with you. Or have you forgotten that you kneed me in the groin and that my back is covered in open wounds?”

“I won’t be able to sleep if you’re in here moving about,” she says.

Before she can argue, the runs to the door and turns off the light, she walks down the hall to another guest room and goes inside. She’s sure Rebecca won’t mind—there are plenty of guest rooms in the house.

The room is spotless and extravagant. There’s a large French door that leads out onto a balcony lined with flower pots. The sheer curtain blows in the breeze, and Leilani rushes to shut the door—someone must have left it open.

As she’s shutting the door, she hears voices. Though the cold rain blows into her face, she leaves the door open a crack and listens.

“You’re hurt, and you need the ointment to heal,” Rebecca says, her voice calm and pleading. “Just let me put the ointment on for you. I promise I have very gentle fingers.”

“Go away,” Waylen roars.

“Okay, but I’m leaving the ointment here,” Rebecca says. “Please use it.”

She hears a door open and close, and she closes the balcony door and locks it. She wants to go check on Waylen, but she forces herself to pull back the duvet and slide into the bed instead. She tugs the down-filled blanket up to her chin, but she can’t sleep. She tosses and turns for over half an hour before she finally falls asleep.

Leilani wakes in the dark. The rain has stopped, but there’s still a quiet dripping sound as it falls from the eaves onto the balcony. She turns on the bedside lamp and walks to the French doors. She pulls the curtain aside and sees that the light from Waylen’s room is still on.

The French doors from Waylen’s room open and Robert steps onto the balcony. He looks at her and mouths something, but she can’t hear him. She shakes her head, and he mouths it again. She undoes the lock on the door and opens it.

“Are you still awake, Miss Peters?” Robert asks.

“I was sleeping,” she says. “How’ s—how’s Waylen?”

“He’s not well,” Robert whispers across space between the balconies. “He refused to apply for medicine.”

“Did you call a doctor?” Leilani asks.

Robert shakes his head and answers, “Mr. Bamford wouldn’t let me call a doctor before. Now he’s unconscious, so I don’t have a choice. Let’s hope he doesn’t wake up before the doctor comes.”

Leilani bites her lip and says, “Okay, I’ll come to have a look now. But you have to swear to me that he’s really unconscious. He can’t even know I was there.”

Robert nods, and Leilani slips back into her room. She tiptoes across the floor and slips into the hallway. She crosses the cool marble floor barefoot and waits outside Waylen’s door. After a moment, the door slides open, and Leilani enters the room. Robert shuts and locks the door behind her.

The room is dark and hot, and the heavy smell of spilled medicine hangs in the air. Waylen is lying on his stomach, wearing a pair of white silk pajamas. The back of the pajama shirt is stained with a shocking amount of blood—most of it looks fresh.

The dim light from the streetlamps outside illuminates his face. His skin is deathly pale and covered in sweat. His hair sticks to his forehead in small, sweaty clumps, and his eyes dart back and forth under his bruised looking eyelids. His breathing is shallow and uneven.

She groans and looks at Robert. She knows the doctor is on the way, but she can’t bear to leave Waylen like this. Robert rushes across the room and returns, carrying a stool from the dressing room. He places it next to Waylen’s bed, and Leilani sits down and watches her ex struggle to breathe.

No matter what, he always finds some way to pull me back, she thinks. I’ve tried everything I can to get away, but I just can’t say no to him. Why is it so difficult to walk away? Why does it feel like my life is completely tangled up with his?

The doctor comes and examines Waylen. He clicks his tongue against his teeth and shakes his head as he looks at the wounds on Waylen’s back and takes his temperature. He rushes downstairs to his car with Robert, and the men return a few minutes later, carrying a heavy-looking medical case.

“He didn’t apply for the medicine as I advised,” the doctor says. “Sweat has made the wound deteriorate, and he’s in terrible condition. I’m going to give him an IV, but then the wounds need to be dealt with.”

The doctor slides the IV needle under the skin near Waylen’s wrist. Leilani sighs and grabs the antiseptic wash and the antibiotic ointment. She asks the doctor to cut Waylen’s shirt away, and she gasps at the sight of Waylen’s back. It’s covered in angry red welts, and each welt oozes a mixture of blood and pus.

She pours the antiseptic wash onto a clean cotton cloth and starts to wipe his back. She begins on the bloodied skin between the welts, slowly working up the courage to touch the actual wounds. The smell of blood fills her nose and makes her stomach churn, and she asks Robert to go get her a glass of water.

After the wounds are clean, she applies the antibiotics. She wants to bandage his back like she saw the doctor do for Andrew, but she doubts she has enough strength to lift him up. The ointment will have to do.

She takes a step back and looks down at Waylen. He’s calmer and less fitful; his eyes are still under his eyelids, and his long dark lashes brush the tops of his cheekbones. She slips into the bathroom and runs a washcloth under the tap. She wipes his forehead, and then the bridge of his nose and the tops of his cheeks, keeping her touch as light as possible.

He twitches in his sleep, and his arm moves. She freezes. The turquoise tattoo on his arm is still there—he must have lied when he said he got it removed. She leans down and gently traces her initials with the tip of her finger, and her eyes fill with hot tears.

A strong hand closes around her wrist. She panics and looks at his face, but his eyes are still closed. His breathing is heavy and even. She tries to pull away, but even in his weakened state, he’s shockingly strong.

“Leilani, Leilani,” he murmurs.

She sighs with relief and tries to pry his fingers open, but she’s helpless against his strength. Robert returns to the room, and she points at her hand and then holds her finger to her lips. Robert understands and rushes across the room to help her.

The harder they try to get her hand free, the harder Waylen seems to hold her. By the time they get it away from him, her wrist is bruised. Dark purple and blue fingers encircle her wrist like a bracelet.

“Robert, please don’t tell him I was here,” she whispers.

Robert nods, and she runs back to her own room and slides into the bed.

There’s a constant dripping sound coming from outside the window. Something cold and wet touches his forehead, and Waylen reaches up and grabs a small wrist in his hand. He opens his eyes and frowns—Rebecca is staring down at him.

“Oh, it’s you,” he says.

He looks at her wrist and then grabs her other hand and checks that wrist. The light olive skin is smooth and unmarked. He groans and closes his eyes. His headaches and he can’t think straight, but he’s sure he smelled Leilani last night. He’s sure he felt her light touch on his skin, and he’s positive she held her small wrist in his hand.

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