She wants to know why a man as cold as Waylen would go out drinking after losing his temper. Leilani frowns because she can’t figure him out. He’s not usually a man to indulge in excess.
The night seems to drag on eternally after he gets into the bed. The smell of his breath bothers her every time he exhales. She can’t sleep and she begins to feel suffocated in the bed with him. She wants to go to the bathroom, but she doesn’t want him to realize that she’s awake.
Waylen lies on the bed and frowns with a murderous look. He can hear her every breath and the sound she makes when she moves or turns over. He knows she’s not sleeping. What’s more, the smell of her body and her hair bothers him and makes it impossible to even consider sleep.
A part of him wants nothing more than to hold her in his arms as he’s become accustomed to in the past few nights. But he can’t bring himself to do it.
“What am I really angry about?” he thinks, “Is it because she’s having an affair with Charles right under my nose—do I believe that? Is it because she does everything she can to protect him? Or is it because she’s suddenly become cold to me?”
For Leilani, the minutes drag on like hours. Eventually his breath begins to come in a heavy, slow rhythm, and she’s relieved that he’s finally sleeping. After all, it seems he certainly drank enough to pass out. She can’t help it and gets up, moving as slowly and quietly as possible to avoid waking him.
She creeps across the room and peers back at the bed after a few steps. She’s surprised to see frosty eyes glinting at her. Shocked, Leilani stumbles backwards and knocks the nightstand lamp over and it falls with a loud crash.
“What the hell?” Leilani says, “Why would you stare like that? You frighten me.”
Waylen glowers at her, presses his lips together, and turns over as if nothing has happened. Leilani is confused: is he asleep or not? She risks another glance at him, but he has his back turned to her. She wonders if he sleepwalks and feels spooked remembering the way his eyes looked at her as if he saw through her.
Leilani still feels uncomfortable when she leaves the bathroom. She considers her options for a moment and decides to sleep on the couch. After being unable to sleep for so long, she quickly falls asleep on the sofa.
Waylen hears the even sound of Leilani’s breath coming from the sofa.
“Damn her!” he thinks, “How can she sleep so easily when I’m awake suffering?”
Before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s gotten up and crossed the room. He wants to throttle her and punish her for cheating on him. Even in her sleep, Leilani feels the chill of his rage and unconsciously pulls the blanket tighter around herself. Her cheeks are flushed and soft with sleep.
Waylen stares at her and decides she looks like an angel. Suddenly, he loses the desire to bother her. Instead, he finds himself overcome by the irrational urge to protect her. He stands quietly watching her for a while, then crosses the room to the French window and lights a cigarette.
“She doesn’t deserve violence,” he thinks, “This thing with Charles is just a whim.”
She incites his desire to conquer by embarrassing him and damaging his self-esteem, but he always pardons her and makes exceptions for her because she’s unlike any other woman he’s met.
“If she finally surrenders to me will I get bored of her again?” he wonders.
In the morning, Leilani wakes up naturally. She rolls over casually and stretches her arms before opening her eyes. Suddenly, it occurs to her that she’s on the bed. She wonders when Waylen picked her up and moved her from the sofa. He usually rises early and she assumes he has already left to go to work at the Bamford Group.
Leilani gets out of bed quickly—the clock is ticking on her escape plan. She knows that she has to get as much cash as she possibly can. As expected, a team of maids and bodyguards are waiting for her outside her bedroom door.
“Mrs. Bamford, breakfast is ready,” they greet her, “Mr. Bamford asked us to prepare a special meal to help conceive.”
“It’s alright,” Leilani says, “I’ll have breakfast at a restaurant today.”
“Okay,” says a bodyguard, “But Mr. Bamford asked us to remain with you in case your waist injury troubles you again.”
Leilani forces a bitter smile—she knows her injury has nothing to do with her husband’s orders. Bodyguards follow her everywhere from morning to night no matter where she goes or what sort of injury she has.
Leilani eats her breakfast in a small diner near one of the city’s luxury shopping centers. She knows that it would draw too much attention if she used the new card from Waylen to withdraw cash, so she plans to use the card to buy some items she can later return for cash.
She arrives at a jewelry shop flanked by a detachment of bodyguards. As she walks they surround her as if she’s royalty, and people stop and stare. She always draws endless attention like this.
The shop clerks are good at recognizing wealth and they flock to help her. Leilani appears to be an important customer, and the clerks all fantasize about hefty commission checks.
“What can I do you for, miss?” one clerk asks.
“What kind of jewelry are you looking for: bracelets, rings, or necklaces?” asks another.
“Some limited edition designer jewelry has just arrived,” says another clerk, “Do you want to take a look?”
The other customers in the store stop browsing and pause to whisper and speculate about Leilani.
The women whisper in hushed tones to prevent Leilani from hearing them.
“It’s Leilani Bamford,” whispers one, “Look at the green diamond ring she has on her finger, that stone must be 3 million dollars a carat.”
“Really?” says another skeptically, “Are you sure it isn’t fake?”
“I doubt it,” replies a third, “Do you think Waylen Bamford would let his wife wears something fake? That ring must be worth at least 20 million dollars.”
“It is quite special,” agrees the first, “I think I’ve seen it somewhere before though.”
“My cousin once saw something like that and she mentioned it to me,” says another woman, “It was called something like Love for Life and she told me it’s Meyer’s family heirloom.”
“Why would Leilani wear a Meyer’ family heirloom?”
“I said it looks like that, not that it is.”
“I guess it’s possible,” says one woman, “But never mind that look at the ring on Leonie’s finger.”
The women incline their heads to look at a photo on the screen of a phone.
“Just look at that ring,” the phone owner gushes, “I heard from a reliable source that Waylen just bought that ring at an auction. It’s worth over 200 million. He must have given it to Leonie as a gift.”
“Wow, really?” whispers one, “That’s so generous of him.”
Leilani is distracted by the shop clerks, and she doesn’t hear a word of their conversation. She barely even notices the other women in the shop. Instead, she’s focused on getting the most valuable jewelry—items that will be easiest to sell for cash later.
“You want all of these?” the shop clerk asks, unable to believe her good luck.
Leilani is buying well over half of the pieces in the store, and the clerk is already eagerly anticipating her commission. Leilani is the most generous client they’ve seen since opening the store. Leilani waves her hand, flashing the black credit card held between her index and middle fingers.
“Yes, wrap them up.”
“Okay,” the clerk nods, “Please wait a moment.”
Leilani sits on the sofa and begins to browse some magazines. She wants to spare the wrapping paper, But she’s worried Waylen would get suspicious if She bought a bunch of jewelry without the proper wrapping.
A woman raises her voice on the other end of the shop, “I wanted this ring and I was here first. You can’t just sell it to someone else under my nose. I swear, I’ve never been treated like this in my life.”
Leilani raises her head from the magazine and sees a group of women staring at her from across the store.
“She’s a big client, but so what?” complains another woman, “We’re customers too. You can’t just sell her every single piece because she has some crazy whim. We’re loyal customers and we were here first—those pieces rightfully belong to us.”
Leilani asks one of the shop clerks who has been serving her to explain what’s going on.
“Nothing much,” the clerk whispers, “One of those women fancies a necklace you just bought, but she couldn’t make up her mind to buy it so we wrapped it up for you. Now she’s upset and claims it was hers. “
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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