“Actually, Mr. Bamford said he was very satisfied that you took 72 photos of him.”
Robert returns the phone to Leilani, and she rolls her eyes. From Waylen’s apparent obsession with the photos to Robert’s weird insistence on the number 72, the entire situation seems absurd. She wonders if Waylen expects her to take another 72 photos of him.
“If you don’t want to use this phone, please send it back to Mr. Bamford by yourself,” Robert says, “Mr. Bamford has insisted that it will always be brought back to him, no matter where you leave it. He was quite clear about the consequences for anyone who helps you dispose of it.”
Angrily, Leilani takes the phone and opens the back. There’s already a SIM card in it.
Leilani arrives at the Bamford Group just before noon. In the lobby, some employees stop and stare at Leilani. Robert walks beside her and ten bodyguards trail behind them. The staffers recognize Robert Tinder, but most don’t recognize the woman beside him.
“I saw her one time when I sent doc.u.ments to the Bamford’s house,” whispers one, “She might be Mr. Bamford’s wife. I wonder why she came.”
“Oh, I think I recognize her,” whispers another, “Is her last name Summers?”
“No. Her last name was Peters—you know the one. I heard that she was specifically chosen by Mr. Bamfordn’s grandfather, but Mr. Bamford hates her. He refuses to even touch her.”
“She’s so beautiful.”
“Doesn’t matter how beautiful she is if she can’t attract her husband,” yet another employee whispers maliciously, “There are many pretty women around Mr. Bamford. Haven’t you heard the gossip? He hates her so much they’re going to divorce.”
“She must sense the crisis in their marriage and fear the divorce,” an employee speculates, “She must be trying to win him back.”
“Hey, get over here,” a manager whispers, ‘Lower your voices.”
Leilani hears the whispers and sees the stares, and she knows the employees are gossiping about her. She feels like a convict with so many bodyguards, but she holds her head high and walks with confidence through the lobby. They take the executive elevator to the fifty-eighth floor.
A male secretary greets them when they step off the elevator, “Welcome Mrs. Bamford, Mr. Bamford is currently in a meeting.”
“Ok, I’ll for him in his office,” Andrea says.
“Actually, Mr. Bamford has asked that you meet him in the conference room.”
The secretary leads her down the hall to a closed door. Leilani can hear voices behind the door—the meeting is still clearly in session. She tries to refuse, but the secretary opens the door and ushers her in. The moment the door opens, several dozens black-suited executives turn to stare at her in unison. From the confusion and curiosity in their expression, she can tell that they were not expecting her arrival.
At the head of the long oak conference table, Waylen leans back casually in his black leather swivel chair. His black phone rests on the table and he casually types something on the screen. He looks up and meets Leilani’s eyes, smirking at the discomfort in her expression.
“Come in,” he says, smiling wolfishly.
The executives are baffled. They look at one another with confusion but don’t dare say a thing.
“Did Mr. Bamford really just allow his wife to interrupt a meeting?” they wonder, “Everyone knows that women aren’t allowed to just wander around Mr. Bamford’s office—he shows such a strong preference for hiring men. Now his wife is allowed to interrupt an important meeting. It’s outrageous!”
Leilani stands in the door without moving. Waylen stares at her intently and gives a slight nod. It seems that the entire meeting will stay on hold until she enters the room. The men stare at her in wonderment, and she slowly enters the room. The secretary follows behind her and places a seat beside Waylen, gesturing for her to take it.
“Continue,” Waylen commands.
The chief financial officer recovers from his surprise and says hurriedly, “In the last quarter, the profit of most of our subsidiary companies exceeded two hundred percent, but the subsidiary company Star earns less than all other companies: the profit margin there is only one hundred twenty percent.”
“Is a profit margin of one hundred twenty percent bad?” Leilani wonders lazily, “Has the Bamford Group ever lost money on anything?’
Leilani feels bored. Her new phone pings and a message appears on the screen—she has forgotten to put on silent. Everyone stops and stares at her again. She twists her mouth into a charming but apologetic smile, and the executives stare at her enchanted, forgetting the business of the meeting.
“Continue,” Waylen glances severely at the executives.
Several dozen sets of eyes look down at the reports in front of them, not daring to look at Leilani again.
Leilani reads the message on her screen: “I want you to take more candid photos of me.”
Even if Waylen wasn’t the only person to have her new number, the commanding tone makes it obvious it’s him.
“I never shoot animals,” she types, “Give my phone back.”
Waylen raises his eyebrows at the message on the screen. Although they are still in the meeting, she can feel his mood changing. The executives notice too. Before Leilani entered the room, he seemed angry and unhappy, ready to destroy the executives. Leilani’s arrival seems to have lightened his mood.
“He looks almost happy,” they think.
All of them secretly breathe a sigh of relief.
“What phone?” Waylen replies to Leilani’s message.
“Is he going to deny taking my phone?’ she thinks furiously.
If they weren’t still in the meeting, she would probably throw the new phone in his face.
“I’m warning you not to look at my phone,” she messages.
“Why? Are you keeping secrets on there?” he types.
“Things on a cell phone belong to the person who owns the phone. They’re private. You can’t just take someone’s phone and look at their belongings,” Leilani types back.
“What about your body?” Waylen messages.
“??? I don’t understand what you mean.”
“I mean can your body be seen and taken?”
“You’re so vulgar,” Leilani messages.
“How can he be so disgusting?” she thinks, “He’s in an important meeting, but instead of listening he’s sending me s.e.x.u.a.l texts.”
Leilani scowls at Waylen and slams her phone onto the table, refusing to check his reply. Everyone in the conference room goes quiet; simultaneously they all turn and look at her.
“Mrs. Bamford is behaving as if she’s angry at Mr. Bamford,” they think.
“What are you looking at?” Leilani snaps, “Get out.”
“Is the meeting over?” the executives wonder, “This is unprecedented, but it seems like Mr. and Mrs. Bamford have some business they need to take care of privately. If the rumors are true, and Mr. Bamford has never touched his wife, why is he looking at her like he wants to take her right there on the table?”
Like recently freed prisoners, the executives file out of the room in less than a minute to the sound of scraping chairs and shuffling feet. Only Leilani and Waylen are left in the large conference room.
Leilani is still angry, and she turns to face her husband, “Waylen Bamford, give my phone back.”
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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