Chapter 303: I Almost Killed You

Jessica's heart sinks. She hates the soppy way her brother looks at Avery. He used to be a heartless lady's man, but now he follows Avery around like a sad puppy. She flicks a red nail polish chip onto the carpet and glares at Andrew.

"Are you really willing to risk your life for this whore?" she asks.

"Don't ever call her that again," Andrew says. "If you can't behave yourself, I'll have your airlifted out of here and taken back home. Understand?"

She wants to argue, but she knows it's useless to fight with Andrew when he gets like this. She grinds her teeth and bites her lip. Out of the corner of her eye, she glares at Avery. She doesn't want to apologize, but she doesn't want Andrew to send her home either. She needs to stay on the ship to win Jackson back.

Jessica digs her nails into her palm and whispers, "Sorry. It was all my fault."

"Come on, say it as you mean it," Andrew says.

"Sorry, I almost killed you," she says louder.

Avery shrugs and turns away as if she can't be bothered to accept the apology. Jessica grinds her teeth and grabs Andrew's arm. He looks less severe than he did before, but his eyes are still flashing with anger.

"I'm sorry, Andrew," she says honestly. "Please don't be angry with me—I never thought you'd get hurt."

"Like it or not, Avery is my fiancé," Andrew says. "In a month she's going to be your sister-in-law. I want you to treat her the same as you treat me, get it?"

"I'll try," Jessica says. "Now, can you please help me with my problem. Jackson has taken a mistress, and I need to get her away from him."

Avery clears her throat and says quietly, "For once, we actually agree on something. I want to get my sister away from him as much as you do."

Andrew gently takes her hands off his arm and says, "I'm not getting involved in your love life again, Jess. If you want to get Jackson back, you're going to have to do it on your own. I'm sure you can think of it."

"I knew you wouldn't help me," she hisses. "You don't even care about your own family anymore. You're completely under this whore—I mean woman's spell."

"James, please escort my sister back to her room," Andrew says. "I think she needs to rest."

James taps her shoulder, and she jerks away from his hand. She stomps out of the room and slams the door without a backward glance. In the hall, she whirls around and punches James in the chest. He doesn't even flinch. She punches him again and then again, giving vent to all her rage.

James slides his hands into his pockets and smirks at her. She punches him until her forehead is covered in sweat, and her arms ache. She raises her leg to kick him in the shin, but he grabs her by the wrists and pushes her up against the wall.

"If you don't stop, you're only going to hurt yourself," he whispers into her ear.

She struggles against him and his grip is too tight. She tries to kick him again, but he presses his body hard against hers. She squirms and wiggles, and he smirks down at her.

"Why did you ask the guard to stop Evan?" James asks.

"That's none of your business," she snaps. "Let go of me."

"You stopped Evan, but not your brother," James says. "That could only mean one of two things. One: you didn't think your brother would try to save her. Or two: You didn't actually want her to die, and you don't hate her as much as you say you do. The first option seems unlikely, so I think it must be the second."

"I honestly didn't think about it that much," she hisses. "Now, unless you're trying to fuck me, get off me."

James laughs low in his throat and presses his body against hers a little harder. Then he loosens his grip and steps away from her. She tugs her dress back into place and combs her fingers through her messy hair.

Gabrielle sneezes and smiles with fake embarrassment at Jackson. She hates how stupid and weak she's acting, but it's the safest option. She has no idea what Jackson plans to do with her, and she's scared to do anything that might make him angry. She looks around his suite, trying to find some way to escape. Jackson laughs cruelly and stretches out on the sofa.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Me?" Gabrielle asks, feeling the panic rise in her chest. "I'm not doing anything at all. I just want to make you happy."

"Really?" he asks, raising one perfect eyebrow. "You're not doing a very good job then. I'm quite unhappy right now." 

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"Oh? Are you unhappy because of me?" she asks. "Don't worry, and I can leave right away if you want."

Jackson laughs and reaches for his phone on the coffee table. Without meaning to, Gabrielle flinches. Every time he looks at his phone, she worries he's going to see the picture. After she braided his hair, she took a picture and uploaded it to Twitter. It's been trending for the last few days, and thousands of people have retweeted it. Some celebrities and famous comedians have even shared the photo with their own funny captions and comments.

She's surprised Jackson hasn't seen it yet, and every time he looks at his phone, she goes into a panic. She has no idea what he'll do to her if he sees it, but she knows it'll be equally humiliating. Instead of grabbing the phone, he takes his lighter. She breathes a loud sigh of relief and tries to cover it with a cough.

He flicks the lighter and lights a cigarette. The room is silent except for the crackle and hiss of the burning tobacco. Gabrielle twists her hands in her lap and looks at the front door, wondering if it's locked. Slowly she gets up and crosses the room. Will Jackson stop me? She wonders.

"Good luck," Jackson calls from the sofa.

"Huh?" she asks.

"Good luck getting out of here," he says.

Gabrielle tries the door anyway and finds that it's locked. She wiggles the handle back and forth and then throws herself down onto the sofa opposite Jackson. She lies on her back, waiting for Jackson to say something, but he finishes his cigarette in silence and lights another.

There's a loud knock at the door, and three bodyguards enter carrying shopping bags. Most of the bags are hot pink and black, and fluffy tissue paper hangs over the sides. The brawny men look ridiculous carrying them. They put the bags on the coffee table and leave the room. 

"Open them," Jackson says.

"They're for me?" she asks, trying to hide her confusion.

"Obviously," Jackson says. "Why would I buy myself pink presents?"

Gabrielle nods and takes the smallest gift bag. She wonders why Jackson is so nice to her. She shakes it slightly, trying to guess what's inside—it's surprisingly lightweight. Does he want to be nice to me now? She wonders. Or is he just trying to buy my affection? Does he plan to treat me as a mistress—as if buying all these expensive things would ever make me happy to serve him!

"You're very generous," she says.

"Just hurry up and open it," Jackson says.

He lights another cigarette, and the white smoke rises in a thin strand in front of his face. Gabrielle reaches into the bag and carefully puts the tissue paper onto the table. Then she pulls out a lacy red bra. The cups are completely sheer, and the small triangles of fabric will barely cover her nipples.

"Why-why, are you giving me this?" she asks.

"Just open the others," Jackson says, blowing a puff of smoke in her direction.

She reaches into the next bag and finds a set of thigh-high fishnet stockings. Another bag contains towering clear plastic heels as the kind strippers wear. The next bag has a collection of whips, and the one after that has a candle for erotic massages. Her heart races, and it gets harder and harder to breathe.

"Don't you like your presents?" Jackson asks. "Finish opening them."

With shaking hands, Gabrielle opens the last of the bags. There's a large pile of skimpy underwear and different sex toys on the table. She feels sick just looking at it all—clearly, Jackson wants her to be his mistress.

"I want you to put each outfit on for me," Jackson says. "I'm going to take pictures of you and make a photo album. Then I'm going to sell it off to pay off your debt."

"My debt?" Gabrielle asks, thinking of the picture she uploaded of him.

"Yes," Jackson says. "I gave your father many property rights in exchange for you, but now I'm not sure you're worth it. I think I want my money back."

"Please, can we talk about this?" Gabrielle asks, wiping a tear off her cheek.

"Nope," Jackson says, tapping his cigarette against an ashtray. "The time for talking ended a long time ago. Anyway, you've forgotten the last bag."

Gabrielle reaches under a pile of tissue paper and pulls out the last bag. She grabs the gift and freezes in horror. 

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