“This is absolutely disgraceful, Mrs. Clifford,” the gray-haired woman says. “Your daughter is out of control. Why would she smear a nice woman like Leilani in public for no reason? Is she really so jealous and petty?”
“And why would she assume an innocent pack of gum is condoms?” says the brunette with a giggle. “She must be really familiar with that brand of condoms.”
The women all turn to Bella for an explanation. Bella’s face goes white and then purple, she opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. She closes her mouth and tries again, but it looks like she’s having a stroke.
“Caitan, dear, did you forget your contact lenses?” Bella finally says. “Perhaps you had trouble seeing everything clearly. Apologize to Leilani now, and be more discreet in the future.”
Jessica throws her hands over her face and runs away from the table. Leilani watches her run through the banquet hall—her long red wig weaving through the crowd as she makes her way toward the exit. Leilani almost feels bad for her. Jessica has been cruel before, but she was acting out of love for her brother, she thinks. Caitan is just a jealous, petty-minded snake.
Caitain looks down at her shoes and mumbles, “I’m sorry I mistook your bag and your gum. I did forget my contact lenses.”
Leilani pats Caitan on the shoulder and says, “It’s okay, Caitan—we all make mistakes.”
“You’re really generous, dear,” the president’s wife said. “It’s kind of you to forgive her after such a terrible accusation.”
Leilani smiles sweetly and slings the purse over her shoulder. The bystanders leave in small groups to gossip about everything that has just happened, and Leilani follows their lead. She nods politely at the president’s wife and walks away from the table, looking for a quiet corner she can rest in.
“Hey honey, how are you?” Andrew asks, grabbing her as she passes.
“Honestly, I’m a little tired,” she says. “This is a bit overwhelming for a pregnant woman.”
“Would you like me to get you a room in the hotel upstairs?” Andrew asks.
“That would be great,” she says. “But first, I’d like a glass of water.”
As if he’s overheard her, a waiter in a black tuxedo appears next to her. He bows his head and offers her a crystal glass of water on a large silver tray. Leilani grabs the glass and drinks it in a single gulp.
Andrew leads her to the elevators and takes her up to an exquisite suite. He kisses her on the cheek and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. Leilani leans over to take her shoes off, but a wave of dizziness makes her stumble. She straightens up and leans against the door. Something inside her feels strange.
She staggers toward the nearest sofa and collapses into the soft cotton. The room seems to spin, and her palms prickle with sweat. She closes her eyes, but a strange sound makes her open them again. It sounds like there’s someone at the door.
“Who’s there?” she calls.
There’s no response, but the door seems to open a crack. A dark, blurry figure stands at the door and then seems to come closer. Leilani blinks, but she can’t make out the face.
“Andrew, is that you?” she asks.
Her words sound slurred, and she tries to straighten up. The man gets closer and closer, but he doesn’t say anything. She balls her hands into fists and forces her eyes open: it’s the man she saw with Caitan at the Clifford house.
“You’re Caitan’s boyfriend, right?” Leilani asks. “I’m sorry for what happened back there with Caitan, but you have to know I was only defending myself.”
“Yes, I’m Mamai,” the man says, towering over her.
“Why are you here?” she asks. “If Caitan wants to talk to me, she can do it herself.”
“Oh, I’m not here for Caitan,” Mamai says. “I’m here for you.”
He puts his hands on his belt and looks her up and down. His eyes linger on her bare shoulders and the tops of her b.r.e.a.s.ts. He smiles and licks his lips appreciatively. L.u.s.t fills his eyes, and she can see his erection straining against the front of his pants.
She struggles to stand, putting her hands on top of her stomach. He nudges her gently, and she falls back against the sofa. He glances down at her belly and raises his eyebrows.
“Are you actually pregnant?” he asks.
“That’s none of your damn business,” she says. “And keep your hands off me.”
“Oh baby, I’m gonna have my hands all over you in just a minute,” Mamai says. “Tell me, has it been three months yet?”
“F.u.c.k off,” she shouts.
“I think I’ll stay,” he says. “You know, I’ve never tried a pregnant woman before.”
He reaches down and grabs her shoulder, pushing her until she’s lying flat on the sofa. She squirms and struggles, but her arms and legs feel heavy as lead. His eyes brighten—he seems to like it when she fights. She goes still, and he climbs on top of her and unbuckles his belt. His dark hair falls over his face, and the smell of his heavy cologne overwhelms her.
“Aren’t you afraid your girlfriend will find out?” she asks.
Mamai laughs and says, “Who said having a girlfriend means I can’t f.u.c.k pretty women?”
Leilani raises her hand and tries to slap him, but he grabs it and pins it above her head. With his other hand, he reaches to pull the skirts of her gown up.
“Wait,” Leilani mumbles. “Not like this—the bed will be more comfortable.”
Mamai hovers over her, and a smile twists the corner of his mouth. He glances over his shoulder at the fluffy, king size bed and then looks down at the small sofa. He loosens his grip on her wrist and leaps to his feet.
She struggles to stand—the room still feels like it’s spinning. Mamai looks down at her, and she smiles up at him in a way she hopes is s.e.xy and inviting. He licks his lips and squeezes his erection through his pants. Bile rises in her throat, and she swallows hard, forcing it back down.
She gets to her feet and looks down at the carpeted floor. Her purse is just a few inches away, but she’s not sure she can reach it without him noticing. She winks at him and tugs the bodice of her gown down, then she bends over, letting her b.r.e.a.s.ts swing free. His eyes widen, and his hand slips inside the front of his pants. She grabs the purse and tries to straighten up, but everything is blurry.
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before standing up. With her hands behind her back, she blindly unzips the purse and fumbles for a small hidden pocket. Her fingers close around something hard and cold, and then the room goes black.
She feels herself falling and then crashing into something warm and hot. Strong arms wrap around her waist and grab her ass, but then Mamai grunts, and the falling starts again. She lands on top of him and lets the darkness take her.
When she opens her eyes, she’s not sure how long it’s been. There’s something soft and warm under her. She sees Mamai’s chiseled and tanned face and tries to roll off of him, but his hands are still cupping her ass. She gags and lifts his arms—they’re surprisingly heavy.
She gets off of him and pushes herself into a sitting position. His breathing is even and steady, and a long silver needle is sticking out of his chest. The needle is attached to her trusty green diamond ring. Relief floods her. She pulls the ring from his chest, pushes the needle back inside and hides the ring in the secret pocket in her purse.
“You’re lucky, you sick bastard,” she says aloud. “If guns were allowed inside the banquet hall, I would have shot you in the face instead of stabbing you in the heart.”
She kicks the unconscious man in the head and looks at herself in the mirror. Half of her hair has fallen out of her bun, and it sticks to her neck in sweaty clumps. Her face is flushed, and her dress is wrinkled and twisted around. She fixes the dress but finds herself too weak to rearrange her hair.
She walks toward the door, but it sounds like someone is trying to come in. She looks at Mamai’s slumped body, rushes across the room and crouches down behind the sofa. The door opens, and she hears uneven footsteps. She peeks under the sofa and sees a pair of sparkling white high heels heading for the bed. There’s a muffled thump as the person collapses onto the bed and then quiet, steady snoring.
Leilani grabs the back of the sofa and pulls herself up. She walks to the bedroom and can’t believe her eyes—Bella Clifford is passed out on the bed. She looks at the snoring woman on the bed, and the prone Mamai and an idea hit her.
Taking a deep breath, she uses all her remaining strength to pull Mamai across the room.
Getting him into the bed is difficult—his arms and legs flop limply back and forth—but she finally manages it. She steps back and looks at the scene, but it’s not quite right. She holds her breath and reaches for Mamai’s pants, tugging them down to his ankles. Her skin crawls, but she grabs the top of his underwear and pulls it down too. Then she hitches Bella’s dress up around her waist and covers the two with a quilt.
She staggers out of the room with a new strength burning in her veins. Her skin tingles, and there’s a horrible aching need between her legs. It must have been the water I drank at the banquet, she thinks. Is it possible it was laced with a sedative and an aphrodisiac?
She staggers down the hall, trying to ignore her body’s demands, but it gets harder and harder with each step. Her very blood seems to burn, and all she can think about is having a man’s warm body on top of hers. She closes her eyes and images of Waylen flash through her memory: water dripping down his abs, the way the muscles of his back tense when he’s inside her, the low groan he makes when he finishes. She m.o.a.ns, and someone clears their throat.
“Umm, are you okay, Miss Peters,” Robert asks.
“Not really,” she mumbles. “Do you know where Waylen is?”
“He’s inside,” Robert says, glancing at the door to another hotel room.
“I need to see him,” she says.
“I—well—okay,” Robert agrees.
He leads her to the room and opens the door for her. She stops in the hallway and grabs his arm.
“Is he alone?” she asks.
Robert nods.
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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