Chapter 283: I Didn't Hit Him Harder

Andrew calls for the family doctor, and the man comes running down the stairs as fast as he can. Andrew unzips his pants and drops them to his feet. Avery turns away—she doesn't want to see what he has between his legs. She can hear the doctor gasp as he examines Andrew, and she wonders if she's done permanent damage.

The doctor speaks quietly, and she strains her ears to hear. He seems to be telling Andrew to avoid sexual activity for the next two weeks. Avery exhales with relief. I'm safe for the next two weeks, she thinks. If only I'd hit him harder, then I'd never have to deal with his disgusting advances again. She waits until she hears the zipper of his pants and the clink of bis buckle before turning back around.

A bodyguard leads him to the living room, and he sits down on the leather sofa with his legs spread to each side. The guard offers him an ice pack, and Andrew winces as he places it against his sensitive groin.

"Avery, you've really pissed me off," he says. "If the damage had been permanent, there would have been serious consequences for you. As it is, you're lucky I'm not going to punish you."

Jessica comes running into the room, carrying her high heels in her hands. She's wearing a full face of dramatic makeup and a fiery red dress that sparkles and catches the light.

"Andrew, are you okay?" Jessica asks, glaring at Avery. "I just saw the doctor, and he said you were hurt in an accident."

Andrew shrugs and struggles to his feet. He grabs Avery by the waist and whispers low and threatening in her ear, "We'll talk about this later."

He turns to Jessica and asks, "Does Jackson know you're coming with us?"

"I don't care if he knows or not," Jessica says. "And I don't care that I wasn't invited. I'm going with you."

Andrew slides his hand down to Avery's lower back and lightly pushes, forcing her to walk. He ignores Jessica completely, and she runs behind them, trying to put her heels on as she goes. Avery watches over her shoulder as Jessica catches up. She grabs Andrew's arm and pulls it off Avery's waist.

"I'm determined to follow you today," Jessica says. "Don't you dream of losing me."

Andrew jerks his arm away from his sister and says, "Fine, but you're going in a separate car with James."

"It's not like getting her alone will do you any good," Jessica says, rolling her eyes at her brother.

Andrew leads Avery to a black town car and helps her into the backseat. She wants to squirm away from him, but she decides it's best not to do anything else to upset him. As they drive, the evening dims into the night. By the time they arrive at the harbor, it's dark outside.

A huge white boat floats in the marina. It looks more like a cruise ship than a yacht; it's five stories tall, and soft yellow light glows from every window and sparkles on the inky black water below. Avery stares at it open-mouthed, and Andrew smirks.

"It's not his private yacht," Andrew says. "It's more like a hotel and casino. You know, the Cliffords made most of their money from casinos—almost every casino on this day belongs to them. This is just Jackson's newest and flashiest business idea."

"What's so special about a floating casino?" Avery asks. "It's not really original. There are tons near Pleasure City."

"It's true," Andrew says with a smirk. "But in those casinos, money is the only thing that matters. They play for higher stakes here."

"Higher stakes?" Avery asks, confused.

"Yes, you can bet anything here—your home, your business, your own organs, even your date," Andrew says.

Avery frowns with disgust. Rich men are all the same, she thinks. They're always looking for some new ridiculous thrill. She follows Andrew up the gangplank and into a large casino. Thick red carpet muffles their footsteps, and chandeliers with heavy crystals hang overhead. The walls are covered in wood panels and expensive oil paintings.

There are slot machines, roulette wheels, and card tables spread throughout the enormous room. A thick haze of cigar smoke hangs in the air, giving the place a mysterious atmosphere. Men and women strut around the casino floor, sipping cocktails and showing off their gowns and tuxedos. A uniformed waiter offers Avery a glass of champagne, but she shakes her head no and follows Andrew deeper into the room.

They pass a blackjack table where a female dealer is wearing lingerie, bunny ears, and a fluffy tail winks at Andrew as she shuffles a deck of cards. Andrew pauses at the table and watches the game. One of the men at the table raises his glass in Andrew's direction and winks. The man has a woman on either side of him and a huge pile of chips in front.

"Let's make this more interesting gentleman," says one of the men at the table. "This hand, I'll bet my wife. But only if one of you puts up a jet."

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"I'll take you up on that," says another. "I want a woman I could spend the rest of my life with. But instead of a jet, I'll put three of my businesses in."

"I'm a doctor, and I'll bet a heart," a man says.

Avery turns and looks at the man with shock. He's wearing a white shirt, unbuttoned at the top, and he holds a cigarette between his fingers. Though it's hard to see through all the smoke, he's clearly Charles' doctor. He catches her looking and drops his cigarette.

"What are you looking at?" Andrew asks.

She turns around to look at Andrew, but by the time she turns back to the table, the doctor has disappeared. She blinks and scans the room, looking for a white shirt among the crowd, but she doesn't see anything.

"I saw the doctor from the hospital," Avery says, still craning her neck to look for him. "He said he had a heart." 

"That's not so strange," Andrew says, starting to walk away. "Doctors have access to organs, and I'm sure there's more than one man here who'd like to skip the waiting list and get a new heart. Do you see how much they drink and smoke?"

His tone sounds casual, but there's a slight edge in his voice. Avery watches him suspiciously—when he thinks she's not looking, he makes a signal with his hand to his bodyguard. The guard nods and rushes away. Avery gives up looking for the doctor and steps in front of Andrew, placing her palm on his chest.

"Just because he has access to something doesn't make it his," Avery says. "It's wrong for him to bet a human heart like that."

She stares at Andrew's face, waiting to see how he'll react. I wonder if that's how Andrew got Charles' heart, she thinks. Did he win it in a bet? I wouldn't put it past him to do something so low and disgusting.

Andrew stares back at her, and calmly says, "Greed and desire are powerful motivators. Men will do many things for money, power, or women. But I imagine he's not here representing himself—he's probably doing someone else's bidding."

"You don't sound upset by it," Avery snaps.

Andrew raises his eyebrows and bursts out laughing, "Of course I don't have a problem with him. He saved Charles' life, after all." 

Avery crosses her arms and shoots him a dirty look. He smiles and pulls her close to his side. He brushes his lips against the top of her head and then tilts her head up to him.

"Have you noticed that every man in here is staring at you?" he asks, his eyes full of pride.

"I hadn't noticed," Avery says. "Why are they looking at me?"

"Because they're all deeply interested in you," Andrew says, pulling her closer. "You look absolutely stunning today—you should feel proud." 

"I feel disgusted," Avery says, trying to pull away from him.

Andrew puts his chin on top of her head and laughs low in his throat. Slowly he relaxes his grip, and he winks at her.

"Excuse me," a short butler says. "My master wants to make a bet with you. Are you interested."

"With me?" Andrew asks with a crooked smile.

"Yes, my master is hoping you'll bet the lady," the butler says.

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