Evan stares down at Avery but keeps his hands behind his back. Avery looks pointedly away; she'd rather watch David operate on Robert than look at Evan.

"Mrs. Howel wasn't hurt," Robert says around the ball of fabric in his mouth.

The words sound muffled and strange, but Evan seems to understand. His body relaxes, and his face softens. He raises one hand as if to touch her and then drops it back down to his side.

"Robert, why is there an army of bodyguards on the front lawn?" Avery asks, ignoring Evan.

"To send a warning," Evan replies.

Avery exhales a long sigh as relief floods her body. If Evan was ready to start a war with Jackson, there'd be no stopping him. A feud between the Howel and Oliver families would destroy them both. Besides, if things stay peaceful, it'll be easier to negotiate with Andrew.

David dips the tweezers deep into Robert's arm, and Robert's face goes deadly white. There's bright red blood all over the metal tabletop and on David's white surgical gloves. Avery feels her stomach churn, and she looks down at her feet until she hears the loud clink of the bullet hitting the tray.

When she looks up, David is stitching Robert's arm with a strong black thread. Robert's phone begins to ring, and he picks it up with his good arm. The light from the screen illuminates his pale face, and he frowns when he reads the caller ID.

"It's Mr. Clifford," Robert says.

"Answer it," Evan says.

Avery scowls at Evan—can't he answer the phone himself? She watches Robert fumble to answer the phone. He raises it to his ear and nods slowly, then he lowers the phone and holds it against his leg to muffle the sound.

"Mr. Clifford has agreed to meet, but only if Avery comes too," Robert says.

Evan glances at Avery and says, "Tell him I'll agree to his terms. But he better not try any funny business."

Gabrielle stands in the doorway to one of the private suites at The Palm House. She rocks back and forth on her heels and bites her lip. The room is dim, but she can clearly see Jackson sitting on the edge of the white bed. He's wearing a short white robe, and his legs are spread so wide, she can almost see his dick.

She tries to avoid looking, but he shifts on the bed, drawing her eyes back down to the darkness beneath his robe. He sees her looking, and he smirks, twisting the robe's belt around one hand. His curly hair is wet and messy from his shower, and his eyes seem to sparkle.

"Come closer," Jackson says, like a conqueror waiting for a slave to kneel before him.

He curls his pointer, and middle fingers in a come here gesture and give her a long, slow wink. She feels her fear boil into anger, and she stomps across the room. I'll do what he says, but only up to a point, she thinks. If he tries anything, I swear to God I'll bite it off. She stands in front of him, and he looks up at her through his long, dark eyelashes.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Jackson asks. "Get down on your knees and please me."

Gabrielle shakes her head and says, "I don't know-how. Even if I did know, I wouldn't do it."

Jackson slowly stands, towering over her. She takes a step backward and raises her hands defensively, but he doesn't move to touch her. Instead, he reaches into his robe pocket and pulls out his phone.

"Do you forget the text you sent to me?" he asks, raising one perfect eyebrow.

"Why don't you remind me?" Gabrielle asks, stalling for time.

Jackson smiles a dazzling smile and looks down at his phone. Gabrielle inhales deeply—he smells like pine and musk, and it reminds her of Bryan. His throat is at eye level, and she has the urge to get up on her tippy toes and put her mouth on the soft, damp skin, but she's not sure if she wants to kiss or bite it.

Jackson says, "Ahh, yes, you said: Leave my sister alone, and I'll give you whatever you want. Now, what I want is for you to please me: with your mouth. If you've changed your mind, that's fine. I know where I can find Avery."

Jackson turns and walks toward the bed, and Gabrielle jumps in front of him. With a smooth gesture, he pushes her onto the soft mattress. She flails and grabs his robe, accidentally pulling him on top of her. He quickly slides his hands to either side of her body and hovers over her. His eyes flash, and she can feel the heat of his skin through her clothes. She holds her breath and freezes beneath him.

"You're as stiff as a corpse waiting for autopsy," he says with a little laugh. "Why don't you relax a little and try to enjoy it?"

"I didn't know you were interested in fucking corpses," Gabrielle snaps. "Why don't you go make a deal with a mortician instead?"

"I suppose I could do that—might even be able to find a corpse more lively than you," Jackson says. "Now, I'm going to count to three and give you a chance to change your mind. I don't like it when people waste my time, Gabrielle, and that's what you're doing right now."

Gabrielle chews the side of her cheek and tries to think of a way out of the situation. There's no way I can fight him, she thinks. He's way too strong for that, and he has the upper hand right now.

"One," Jackson whispers against her ear.

His breath is hot and distracting, and she closes her eyes to concentrate. Maybe there's some way I can trick him, she thinks. Pretending to have my period worked with Andrew, but I had time to prepare fake blood for that. I don't think Jackson would just take my word for it.

"Two," Jackson says with his lips against her jaw.

I'm almost out of time, Gabrielle thinks. If I can't fake my period, maybe I can find another way to disgust him? He seems like a particular man. I don't remember much about our time together that afternoon, but I don't think he kissed me even once. At least not on the lips. Maybe he's afraid of germs, or he's saving kissing for a true romance? Either way, it doesn't matter.

"Three," Jackson says.

Gabrielle lifts her head and throws her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. She puckers her lips and moves to kiss him, but at the last minute, he jerks his head to the side. Her lips land wetly on his cheek.

"Afraid of germs?" Gabrielle asks. "Or are you worried Jessica will find out about this? I won't tell if you don't."

Jackson frowns at the mention of Jessica, and his face goes dark. Gabrielle instantly regrets her decision—if he turns violent, there's nothing she can do to stop him. But the stormy look passes almost as quickly as it came.

His face relaxes, and Gabrielle finds herself staring intently into his icy blue eyes. He pulls his head away, and she finds herself looking at his sharp jawbone, his high nose, his full lips. He's almost shockingly beautiful, she thinks with surprise.

Before she realizes what she's doing, she grabs his face between her palms and pulls his lips onto hers. She sucks on his bottom lip and then gently nibbles it, keeping her eyes open to watch his reaction. His pale blue eyes are shockingly close, and his long eyelashes tickle her skin. His mouth seems completely frozen.

She arches into him and continues to kiss his warm lips. He presses them together in mute refusal but seems unable to pull himself away. Good, she thinks. If he's horrified by my kissing, I might be able to get out of this after all.