Leonie pulls out her phone and plays a recording of Mrs. Florence Bamford.
“Once Leilani bears him a child, Waylen won’t allow her to hang around,” the old woman’s voice says, “The second she gives birth, he’ll have her packing her bags. He can’t stand the sight of her, and frankly my dear, neither can I.”
“You want to be his wife? I’m afraid Waylen wouldn’t allow that,” Leonie says, putting her phone back in her pocket, “Waylen loves Diana, but I think he’d settle for me. If one of us marries him it will save our family—so no I really don’t care whether you get pregnant or not.”
Leonie stands and slowly walks toward Leilani, “You think I don’t know why you want to sell the hotel? You need the money to run away. Let me give it to you. Okay?”
“That’s very kind of you,” Leilani says cautiously, “But I don’t trust you.”
“Think about it,” Leonie says, “You’re a smart woman. You’ll make the right choice.”
Leonie leaves the dressing room, and Leilani remains frozen on the spot. To her side, light filters in through a stained glass window. Though the light is warm and colorful, Leilani feels a chill. She recalls the stained glass windows at the Zuri Hotel and remembers that Claire said they were Diana’s special touch. The windows in her dressing room are too similar for it to be a coincidence.
“I really have been living in Diana’s shadow,” Leilani thinks, “I shouldn’t care really—I’ve gone to great lengths to try to divorce Waylen. I even emailed Diana behind Waylen’s back to try to convince her to return, but now that I know the truth it all feels different. Besides, if I have to get pregnant, that changes things.”
Leilani pauses and considers her options, “Even if I did get pregnant, the toxin would make the pregnancy incredibly dangerous. Charles told me that the side effects would worsen and my immune system would become dangerously weak. He said I’d have at least a 90% chance of dying. Do I really have to risk my life so Diana can be freed? No, I can’t do it—I’m not a saint.”
She doesn’t want to admit it to herself, but she can’t help but feel hopeless and heartbroken knowing that Waylen is only using her to get Diana. She forces herself to swallow her bitterness and carefully selects an outfit from the closet.
“I should feel lucky,” she thinks, “This news makes it easier to leave with a clear conscience—I certainly don’t have to worry about hurting Waylen.”
She tugs on the dress and hears a knock at the door.
“Mrs. Bamford, Dr. Walters said Mr. Bamford needs someone to cool him,” a maid announces.
“What?” Leilani opens the door, “I don’t even know what that means. Ask Robert or David to do it. I’m not in the mood.”
The servant is about to leave, but Leilani calls her back, “Actually, I changed my mind—I’ll do it.”
When Leilani enters the bedroom, Waylen is sitting at the bed and looking at a tablet on his knee. He looks up at the sound of the door and stares at her with eyes as deep and unreadable as the sea.
“You look unwell,” he says, “Are you getting sick again?”
“Are you actually worried about me or just worried it’ll get in the way of a pregnancy?” Leilani snaps.
“What if I say it’s both?”
Leilani knows it’s only the latter, but she suppresses her anger and approaches him as if nothing is wrong. The servants have readied a bowl of cold water and place it on the nightstand with a pile of soft cloths.
“Mrs. Bamford, you should focus on the forehead, back, neck, armpits, and thighs,” a maid explains, “Mr. Bamford will also need a change of clothes or else his fever could worsen.”
“I get it,” Leilani says impatiently, “Leave us alone now.”
Leilani feels on edge and she can sense that Waylen is following her every move with his eyes. She wrings the towel between her fingers and imagines she’s wringing Waylen’s neck. Waylen doesn’t know why she’s upset, but he can tell she’s furious.
Leilani throws the towel roughly at his face.
“Sorry, my hand slipped,” she hisses.
Leilani reaches for the towel, but lance grabs her wrist.
“Who pissed you off? Leonie?” he asks.
Leilani sneers. She can’t believe that Waylen is such a good actor. Of course, a part of her doubts the veracity of what Leonie is saying, and she’s suspicious about the recording on her phone, but she knows she has to leave anyway. There are far too much intrigue and violence. The Bamford house has proven to be a toxic place and she knows she can’t live with Waylen. Besides, nothing here belongs to her.
She takes a deep breath and softens her tone, “It was a slip of the hand.” She refolds the tower and slams it back onto his forehead.
“You’re lying,” Waylen says with amus.e.m.e.nt.
“I’m sorry if I used too much force. I’ll try again,” Leilani says, withdrawing her arm from his grasp, “Anyway, you’re sweating. I’ll get you a change of clothes.”
She dampens another towel and begins to unbutton his dark shirt. As the buttons come undone, his tanned chest is exposed. The muscles seem to shake as he breathes rapidly and feverishly. His hot breath falls on the back of her hand and she can feel his heart racing beneath her hand.
“Why is your heart beating so fast?”
Waylen grabs her hands and places her palms over his heart. Leilani tries to pull away, but even when he’s sick he’s strong.
“What do you think?” he asks.
Waylen gives her a flirtatious look and pulled her toward him, he places his warm mouth beside her ear and whispers, “The heat of the fever overexcited the nervous system and makes the heart beats faster. As my temperature drops my heart rate will drop as well.”
Leilani fumes at his cold, pragmatic words. Once again he’s played her, and she can feel the embarrassment flooding her cheeks. She pushes her hands against his chest to create more distance between them.
“Why are you blushing?” he asks devilishly, “Why did you think my heart was beating fast?”
Waylen flattens his hands over hers. She tries to pull her hands away but Waylen takes her hand, flips it over and seductively trails his fingertips across her palm. The feeling of his rough fingers against her soft calm is surprisingly seductive and flirtatious. Leilani tries to withdraw her hand again but he stops her and pulled her closer.
“Desperate for me yet?” he whispers.
He raises her hand to his mouth and gently bites her fingertip.
She frowns, “Stop it, will you? I’m just trying to help you change.”
Leilani unbuttons the rest of his shirt. She tugs on his collar and pulls the tight silk sleeves off his arms, her palms skim his arms as she removes the shirt. Her upper body is touching his and her chin rests against his shoulder.
Waylen can hear Leilani’s uneven breath and fights the urge to wrap his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. Suddenly Waylen feels something tight around his wrists and finds his arms pulled above his head. Leilani has tied his hands with the sleeves of his shirt.
Leilani’s tempting voice is low against Waylen’s ear, “Want to try something different?”
“Why not?” Waylen says.
He smiles deeply and languorously leans back against the headboard. Leilani grabs his tie from the bedside table and ties his ankles together.
“Be a good boy for me, will you?” She says as she tests the knots in the tie, “Don’t even think of trying to escape.”
Waylen has to admit to himself that escape is the furthest thing from his mind.
“Do you have an ulterior motive?” he asks, amused.
“Yes,” Leilani smiles and squints as he often does.
She darts into the bathroom and quickly returns with makeup in her hands.
“What are you doing?” Waylen asks, craning to see what she’s holding.
“You’ll see,” she smirks.
Then she sits on top of Waylen and presses all of her slight weight against him. She uses her teeth to remove the lid of the lip gloss and begins to apply it to his face. Within a few minutes, she’s given Waylen a wide red mouth and thick eyebrows. She jumps down afterward and takes several pictures of him. She looks at the photos, dissatisfied and decides they’re not humiliating enough.
“That’s very skillful,” Waylen laughs, “Did you practice for me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She pulls off his trousers but instantly regrets her decision. Turning her face aside, she pulls them down to his ankles, trying to keep her fingers from brushing against his thighs. Then she takes more pictures.
Once again she shows the photos to Waylen, “Ask Robert to give me my phone or I’ll post them online.”
“You wouldn’t do that to me,” Waylen says calmly.
“Try me,” she whispers.
Suddenly, Waylen smiles, “Okay, call Robert in.”
Leilani doesn’t know why he’s smiling. Though she feels slightly dazzled by his grin, she picks off the intercom system and asks for Robert then passes the phone to Waylen.
“Bring Leilani’s phone up,” Waylen orders.
Waylen continues to smile, and Leilani can’t help but wonder why. When Robert enters he almost staggers over when he sees his almost n.a.k.e.d boss tied to the bed with horrible makeup. He can guess that Leilani did it, but he can’t understand why his boss would allow her to do this.
“Leilani really must be his equal,” Robert thinks.
Robert hands the phone to Leilani. Leilani grabs it and turns it on immediately. It seems almost the same as before, but when she checks her photo gallery she finds that all of the pictures she deleted off of her Facebook have been recovered and stored there.
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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