“Beg me to f.u.c.k you,” Waylen says.
“Please, Waylen, f.u.c.k me,” she m.o.a.ns.
She fumbles for the phone and stops the recording. Blood rushes her to her cheeks, and she squirms uncomfortably in the bed. She doesn’t want to admit it to herself, but the recording has turned her on. Her time with Waylen was a blurred, drugged haze, but she remembers enough to feel the desire pool between her legs.
The phone buzzes, and another message appears: “Are you asleep?” She drops the phone, but it buzzes again. “I know you’re not,” the message reads. “You have ten minutes to meet me downstairs.”
Leilani jumps to her feet and tiptoes across the thick wool carpet. She pulls back the heavy linen curtain with the tip of her finger and sees a black Maybach parked outside the Clifford gates.
Leilani lets go of the curtain and runs back to the bed. With a leap, she hops onto the soft mattress and pulls the duvet up to her chin. It’s well after midnight, and the Clifford mansion is silent except for the loud, rough s.e.x in the room next door. Caitan m.o.a.ns again even louder than before, and Leilani wonders if the girl is obnoxious on purpose.
Her phone buzzes again, and she squints at it: “Ten minutes have passed.” She closes the text message and locks her phone. What does it matter if she meets Waylen or not? There’s no way he’ll leak the recording—he’s incredibly private, and would never want anyone to hear him having s.e.x.
The phone buzzes again. This time there’s a photo attached to the text. She taps it and nearly drops the phone. The photo is a screenshot of a tabloid website, and the top headline reads, “Leilani Peters Makes Passionate Love to Ex-Husband.” Her blood boils, and she jumps out of bed and throws a cardigan over her shoulders.
She pauses at the door into the hallway, but Caitan and her boyfriend are still lost in the throes of passion. She creeps down the hallway, grateful that the night maid has fallen asleep at her post near the stairs. Near the front door, she slides her feet into a pair of sandals and then marches out into the dark night.
Waylen is leaning against his black Maybach. He’s dressed in all black, and the wind catches his hair and makes him look like a movie villain—the moon glints off his white smile, and his eyes twinkle.
“I came,” she says. “Now, delete the recording.”
“Come closer,” he says.
She bites her lip and takes two steps closer. He shakes his head, and she takes another two steps. He reaches out and pulls her into his arms before leaning back onto the car. His body is warm and comfortable, and she hates the way his smell reminds her of the hotel room.
“So, you thought there wouldn’t be any consequences for your actions?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.
She squirms and tries to pull away, but he only holds her closer. He slides one hand up her neck and hooks his finger under her chin, tilting her head up to look at him. Her heart hammers in her chest, and she wonders if he can hear it. His eyes crinkle, and his jaw flexes.
“Waylen, it’s late,” she says. “You need to go home. If anyone sees you here, you’ll be in huge trouble. Andrew is a jealous man.”
“Trouble?” Waylen asks. “You weren’t worried about any trouble when you took advantage of me in my hotel room, Mrs. Clifford.”
“What do you want from me?” she asks.
“I haven’t decided yet,” he says.
“You called me all the way out here in the middle of the night to blackmail me, and you don’t even know what you want?” she asks.
“Fine, I want to see you again before noon tomorrow,” he says.
She swallows hard—meeting him again will be almost impossible, especially when all the Cliffords are awake and spying on her. But she knows she doesn’t have a choice. Waylen is stubborn, and he won’t give up. It seems safer to try to sneak away than to wait for one of them to see the headline and listen to the recording.
“Okay, but only if you get that tabloid to take down the recording,” she says.
“Done,” Waylen answers.
“And you have to destroy the recording completely,” she says.
He smiles and says, “Let’s see how our meeting goes tomorrow.”
Leilani slams her small hand against his chest. He catches her by the wrist and brings her fist to his mouth. His lips brush each knuckle, and then he flips her hand over and kisses the soft inside of her wrist. The night is warm, but she shivers.
“If you don’t meet me tomorrow, I’ll have to take things into my own hands,” he says. “I’m sure your beloved Andrew would love to hear what I have to tell him.”
“Waylen,” she hisses.
L.u.s.t flashes in his eyes, and she curses herself for using his name. His large palm caresses and cups her cheek, and he leans her head against his hands. His thumb traces her lips, and then his lips are against hers.
She closes her eyes and kisses him back, feeling her body melt against his. His hands tangle in her hair, and she clings to his upper back. He licks her bottom lick and darts his tongue into her mouth, and she m.o.a.ns with the familiar taste. Then his hands loosen, and he pulls away.
“That’s your punishment for leaving me without saying goodbye,” he says.
Leilani scowls and marches away. As she passes under the gate to the mansion, she looks up at the dark windows above, wondering if anyone is looking down on her. She tiptoes up to her room and slips into bed.
“Honey, did you sleep well last night?” Andrew asks outside the dining room in the morning.
“Not especially,” Leilani says.
Between the kiss with Waylen and the endless banging in the room next door, she barely slept a wink. She walks into the dining room and sees everyone already eating. Caitan looks up from her coffee and shoots her a nasty look. Leilani rolls her eyes, secretly impressed that the girl has managed to make it to breakfast after her marathon lovemaking.
Joseph sits at the head of the table, reading the newspaper and chewing a piece of toast. He looks up over his paper and gestures for Leilani to sit down. She slides into an empty seat, trying to avoid looking at Mamai.
Leilani stares at her plate and picks at her fruit and toast, waiting for the silent breakfast to end. After half an hour, the servants clear the plates, and people start shifting around in their seats.
“Want to play chess, Father?” Caitan asks. “Miss Peters can join us—it could be a good way for us all to get to know each other.”
“Oh, do you know how to play chess?” Joseph asks Leilani.
Leilani shakes her head and says, “I’m afraid I’m not very good.”
“Don’t be modest,” Caitan says with a smile. “Don’t you want to get to know your new father-in-law. He loves playing chess, and I’m sure he’d enjoy playing with you.”
Everyone turns to look at her and Leilani says, “I guess I can—”
“Great,” Caitan interrupts. “Bring out the chessboard. We can play four-player chess.”
Leilani narrows her eyes, wondering what Andrew’s sister is planning. There must be a reason she’s so insistent they all play chess. She looks at Andrew, and he shrugs.
“I’m going to go upstairs for a quick check-up,” Andrew says, patting his heart. “You stay down here and play with Dad.”
“Have I gotten your latest medical results?” Joseph asks, raising his eyebrows.
“I’ll have the doctor send you an email,” Andrew says as he leaves the room.
The servants place a heavy marble chess board on the table—it takes three women just to carry it. Caitan arranges the pieces, giving each player a different color: black, white, yellow, and blue. The yellow and white players play for the same team, and the black and blue players play against them.
“I’ll play with my dad,” Caitan says. “You and Mamai can play together, Leilani.”
Mamai moves to the seat across from Leilani, and she can feel his foot nudge hers under the table. She pulls her leg away, but he seeks her out. He’s taken off his shoe under the table, and his bare toes curl around her ankle. She wants to throw the chess pieces in his face, but she has to keep her calm.
Caitan and Joseph study the board, and Leilani takes a peek at her watch. She needs to meet Waylen before noon, and she’s starting to run out of time. If the game lasts long, she’ll definitely miss the meeting.
Joseph’s onyx chess pieces click as he moves them across the marble board. He smiles and whispers something in Caitan’s ear, pointing at two different squares on the board. She nods and moves her crystal pieces, knocking Leilani’s bishop and queen aside. The carved pieces scatter across the tabletop and clatter to the floor.
“Checkmate,” Joseph and Caitan say in unison.
Leilani sighs and pushes Mamai’s creeping foot off her thigh. She was hoping they’d play only one game, but Joseph and Caitan seem determined to make it last for hours. She checks the time on her phone and shifts in her seat. If she doesn’t leave soon, she’ll be late for the meeting with Waylen.
“Dad, this is getting a bit boring,” Caitan says. “Poor Leilani looks like she’s counting the seconds until she can leave. Why don’t we make it more interesting?”
“Good idea, pumpkin,” Joseph says, tapping Caitan’s freckled nose across the table. “What do you have in mind?”
“I think we should raise the stakes,” Caitan says. “The winning team members can draw something on the losing team members’ faces. Anything at all.”
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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