Chapter 6 – An Unbreakable Vow with the Heartless Tycoon

“Don’t mind me. Just change the sheets and I’ll go back to clean up,” Leilani says, suddenly sober.

She doesn’t feel the least bit guilty that she threw up on Waylen. Instead, she’s amused; the look on his face was priceless. She returns to her room after ordering the maid back into Waylen’s room. As she walked to her room, she reflects on her marriage. Waylen hadn’t touched her once in the three years they’d been together. He hadn’t even allowed her to sleep in his bed. She’s sure that last night was an accident.

Waylen’s maids find it odd that he slept with her as well. Though her memory is patchy because of the drug she’s been dosed with, she vaguely remembers a conversation between two of his maids.

“I heard that Mrs. Bamford once tried to seduce Mr. Bamford by climbing onto his bed, n.a.k.e.d,” one maid had said, “But he kicked her off so viciously, she injured two ribs. She couldn’t get out of bed for months after that.”

“She was asking for it,” the other replied, “Everyone knows that Mr. Bamford isn’t into that kind of thing.”

“But he did make love with her last night,” said the first, “I can’t believe it. Since when does Mr. Bamford enjoy the company of women?”

“Hush. I heard it’s just because he was on Viagra. He can’t get hard for her without it. It’s just not possible. If he wasn’t into Leilani for the past three years, he wouldn’t suddenly throw himself at her last night.”

“Isn’t interested in making love with women?” Leilani thinks, “Ha!”

She sneers at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The maids don’t know this new Waylen: the new Waylen wanted to make love, again and again, the new Waylen couldn’t take his hands off of her. She idly wonders if he somehow passed his revulsion for s.e.x to her. She used to yearn for him to touch her, but now the mere thought makes her nauseous. She doesn’t ever want him to touch her again.

“If some other woman wants him that way, she can have him,” Leilani thinks.

An image of Leonie casting seductive glances at Waylen rises in Leilani’s memory.

As Leilani cleans herself in the bathroom, Leonie sits with Mrs. Bamford in the quiet and tasteful east wing of the Bamford mansion. The Bamford residence consists of one main mansion situated on a large plot of land, but the family also owns dozens of other houses and condos of various sizes throughout the city. Even at the height of their power and prestige, the Summers family’s residence wasn’t half the size of the Bamford mansion.

Ever since the Summers family began to lose money and prominence, it’s been Leonie’s responsibility to restore her family’s reputation. The easiest way to do that is to marry well, and there’s no better candidate than Waylen. An alliance with the Bamford family would do more than restore the Summers family’s status; it would elevate them to new heights.

It shouldn’t have been so difficult. Leonie grew up with Waylen and everyone expected the two of them to marry. Leilani appeared out of nowhere, and her marriage to Waylen surprised everyone.

“Leonie, what is it you were saying about Leilani pushing you down the stairs?” Mrs. Bamford asks.

“It’s water under the bridge now, Mrs. Bamford,” Leonie says coyly, “I understand if Leilani hates that I’m close with Waylen. I’m fine now, and I don’t want to dig it up again.”

“You think she tried to harm you because you grew up with Waylen? Leonie, you’re too kind to forgive her.”

“I know how Leilani must feel,” Leonie says, “After years of marriage Waylen still doesn’t care for her at all. Given my history with Waylen, she has every reason to be hostile to me.”

“I’m so sorry you have to deal with her behavior,” Mrs. Bamford says, “But don’t trust the press. Waylen is using this story about the pregnancy to try to hide the truth about Leilani—no one wants that to be publicized. You understand, right?”

Despite her age and gray hair, Mrs. Bamford has a healthy ruddiness in her face. She talks to Leonie with great energy. Leonie sits next to the older woman and pours tea for the two of them. Her gestures are perfect and graceful, her every move reflecting her status and upbringing as an elegant woman. Mrs. Bamford has known Leonie for her entire life and she sees in her the granddaughter-in-law she wishes she had.

“I know, Mrs. Bamford,” Leonie replies, “Waylen does what he has to do to protect the family name.”

“I’m glad you agree. You know you wouldn’t have to tolerate this terrible situation if it wasn’t for Waylen’s grandfather,” Mrs. Bamford says with a sigh, “That stubborn old man forced Waylen to marry Leilani.”

“It’s okay, Mrs. Bamford,” Leonie says sadly, “Waylen is out of my league.”

“Nonsense. You’re so much better than Leilani. I’ll tell Lance to ask for your parents’ permission to marry you soon after he divorces that horrible woman.”

Mrs. Bamford sigh with frustration. Just when the divorce was finally going to occur, Waylen had to interrupt it. She can’t read Waylen’s mind, and she doesn’t fully understand why he behaved like that. She knows that Waylen has always disliked Leilani and demanded that they sleep in separate rooms. She knows why Leilani still hasn’t gotten pregnant after three years of marriage.

Waylen opposed the marriage three years ago. To persuade him, his grandfather had promised that he’d stop interfering with Waylen’s personal life if he married Leilani. He also promised to end the marriage if she didn’t produce an heir within the first four years. Mrs. Bamford overheard them agreeing to this as she carried tea to them one afternoon. She knows that if Waylen refuses to sleep with Leilani, she can’t bear his children, and if Leilani can’t bear his children, he has to divorce her. She suspects that the pregnancy announcement is meant to be some sort of distraction for his grandfather.

“But Mr. Bamford chose Leilani to marry Waylen,” Leonie says, fighting to curb the wild hope she suddenly feels.

Mrs. Bamford lowers her voice and whispers, “If she doesn’t get pregnant in six months, Waylen’s grandfather will force them to get a divorce. He’s getting impatient for an heir. Even if Waylen opposes the divorce, he’d have no choice but to obey his grandfather. The two of them agreed.”

“Really?” Leonie’s mood brightens. She smiles and enchanting dimples appear on her soft cheeks.

“Really!”

Mrs. Bamford takes the tea that Leonie offers her and inhales deeply. The high-quality tea has been perfectly steeped. She takes a sip before speaking.

“I’ve asked the maids to prepare a guest room in the main house for you. Please make yourself at home and don’t worry about wasting your time with an old woman like me. I want you to focus on Waylen. Rest assured, no one will dare to ask you to leave while you’re here as my guest.”

Leonie blushes and lowers her voice, “I appreciate it, Mrs. Bamford.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mrs. Bamford replies. She sips her tea again and adds, “Waylen asked you to come here and his intentions are clear. It’s only a matter of time. The room is ready and he knows where to find you. Don’t make him wait.”

“I knew he was the one who sent that text,” Leonie says happily.

She can’t imagine why anyone else would have sent her the mysterious text asking her to come to the Bamford residence. She has been waiting for this moment for almost four years, and she doesn’t want to lose another opportunity to marry Waylen and save her family.

In the steamy bathroom, Waylen vigorously rubs a washcloth across his body. Bloody woman! He can’t believe that she threw up at him. Is kissing him that disgusting? The thought makes him burn with rage.

He adjusts the water pressure and the water drips down his bronze skin. It flows across his defined abs, highlighting the s.e.xy musculature of his torso. He gets out of the shower and towels his hair dry and then puts on a dark robe, tying it loosely at the waist.

The maids have cleaned the bedroom while he was in the shower, and it looks like they’ve done a good job. The lights are off, but a fragrant candle burns and flickers passionately in a candlestick on the carved wood cabinet. The dim light creates a romantic atmosphere.

A woman with a perfect body is lying on the bed with her back to Waylen. The thick, white quilt slips enticingly from her shoulders, revealing a fair and beautiful back. Her hair falls loosely across the pillow in a way Waylen finds seductive and charming.

Images and memories flash through his head. He remembers the way Leilani touched him: how her agile fingers moved across his body, sometimes light and sometimes heavy and lingering, how she scratched his back as she orgasmed. He remembers how she m.o.a.ned like she was weeping, the sound of a woman beyond ecstasy.

He feels his loin tightening and his heartbeat increases. He can feel the blood pulsing through his body and pounding in his head. He lifts the quilt and slides beneath it, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. Suddenly he freezes. The woman is completely n.a.k.e.d.

So she was playing hard to get earlier, he thinks, feigning unwillingness to touch him and determination to divorce him. But she hasn’t changed at all; she still craves his touch. Anyway, he decides, someone’s personality can’t change as suddenly and drastically as Leilani’s seemed to. He has to admit she’s getting better and better at seducing him.

The s.e.x last night was too good, arousing and satisfying him in a way he’d never felt before. He recalls burying his head in Leilani’s neck, inhaling her fragrance wildly and greedily. He eagerly buries his head in her neck, craving that familiar scent. But there’s something wrong. She doesn’t smell the way he expects her to.

She m.o.a.ns quietly, suggesting she can’t wait to be loved. Gently, she rolls over and looks at him with big, misty eyes. He reads s.e.x.u.a.l desire in her expression, an open invitation to him.

Waylen is shocked, and for a short moment, his whole body freezes. The woman is not Leilani—it’s Leonie.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demands.

Quickly, he jumps out of bed and calls for the maids.

“Waylen, wait!” Leonie stretches her fair and graceful hand toward him but touches only air. Embarrassed, she grabs a pillow to cover her chest. She curls her body around the pillow, trying to warm herself, but her back and bottom remain exposed.

“Yes, Mr. Bamford?”

A maid enters the room but stops abruptly when she sees a n.a.k.e.d woman on the bed. Leonie’s legs are now obscenely wrapped around the pillow, and she’s wiggling back and forth.

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