Crystal's POV

I locked the door to our hotel room behind us as we walked in. I really wanted to move the couch up in front of the door . . . but I was too tired to do so.

I was exhausted and yet wide awake at the same time. My body was telling me to rest because I would need it. My mind was telling me not to sleep. To be on high alert because Branson was still out there and now he'd seen our faces.

Maybe that should have bothered me more than it did, but I was honestly too distracted to care. And besides, he'd never actually gotten a good look at either one of us. Since most the time we were dodging his attacks, or being thrown into furniture and walls.

I pressed my head against the door and let out a groan. I was exhausted, yes. Scared too. And I'd nearly died today . . . again. All because of Jackson Storm.

"Need a drink?" Jackson asked from behind me.

I turned to glare at him.

"I'll take that as a no," He muttered.

"You're so full of shit," I said.

Jackson rolled his eyes. "Here we go again," He said. "Do tell exactly what you're on about this time."

I glared at him. "Trust me."

He let out another sigh. "In my defense, I had pictured this turning out differently."

"You nearly got me killed-"

"That's a bit of an over-exaggeration."

"-and Branson has now had a look at me-"

"Considering you were being thrown around I doubt very much he got a good look at you."

"-and what exactly is keeping his darling wife from keeping her mouth shut about who we are now?"

"To be fair," Jackson said. "I did say I'd take care of her and I have."

"For how long though?"

Jackson waved away my concern. "I'll come up with another plan, you have my word."

I glared at him once more. "You don't keep your word," I said.

Jackson looked offended. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," I said. "you gave me your word that this plan of yours would work out-"

"In hindsight, it would have worked if the waiter had been a little more generous with the drugs."

"-it didn't," I told him. "This didn't work out." I groaned and pulled at my hair. "I thought I would be done with this by now! I thought I would have dealt with my father-with you-by now! Instead, I've been stuck with an egotistical conman with no regard for anyone but himself-"

"Let's be nice."

"-and," I continued on despite his interruption. "who can't keep his word!"

Jackson glared at me. "Name one instance-other than the failed plan-where I have not kept my word."

I narrowed my eyes at him, suddenly tired of arguing. There were too many emotions I was keeping in. Too many feelings I was pushing aside and I was tired. Tired, frustrated, and realizing that every time he'd told me I'd needed a distraction, he was right. Which was a terrible realization to come to.

I was done. Done arguing. Done fighting. Done thinking. I held up my hand to silence him when he would have spoken again. "No," I said. "I don't . . ." I let out a sigh and rubbed at my head, feeling a headache coming on. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed. I'm done."

He raised an eyebrow and looked at me questioningly. "Done with what exactly?"

"You," I said as I looked at him. "I can't have a serious conversation with you. I can't keep arguing with you. If I remain anywhere near you I'm going to lose what's left of my sanity." I blew out another long breath. "I'm done," I said firmly and then nodded my head. "Yeah, I'm done," I muttered to myself as I walked past him into the bedroom.

Jackson just watched me and then shrugged. He walked over to the dresser and pulled out a small black bag, walking into the bathroom.

I should have done exactly what I said I was going to do. I should have just changed and gone to bed. Instead, I found myself standing out on the balcony wanting to pull my hair out and let out a frustrated scream. I gripped the railing in front of me and looked out in the dark of night.

I let out a sigh as I took in the events of the day. As I took in the events of the past few months . . . few years even. Everything was falling apart. I was falling apart. I was trying so hard to do too many things at once. Trying so hard to figure this all out and I was losing myself in the process.

And what was I even doing? I wasn't taking down my father like I had planned because I was busy running all over the world working with the man who had single-handedly ruined my life.

Of course, some things had changed since then. I suppose. He was now . . . tolerable to be around. Despite my best efforts to hate the man, sometimes he really wasn't that bad. And sometimes, I believed he thought the same about me. Of course, he was still using me. Just as he'd always been.

Whether or not he cared about me-whether or not I chose to believe that somewhere deep down he cared-he was still using me. He'd been using me from the moment I met him. Used me to get at my father. Used me to get Kurt Branson. Used me for information. For his entertainment. As something shiny to parade around.

So why the hell was I sticking around? Why was I hanging around with the man who'd ruined my life and then consistently put it in danger?

"Great question," I muttered. Although, I did believe that I knew the answer. It was because, for once in my life, I was actually completely free to choose exactly what I wanted to do. And hell, I did want to see this through. For years my choices had always been dictated by my mother or my father. As a child, sure being a model sounded fun, but as I grew older . . . it lost a lot of its appeal. But of course, if I was to walk away-and I had tried a few times-not only would my mother guilt trip me back into it, but the media still never left me alone. And yet, surprisingly enough, the media no longer appeared to be trying to follow my every move. Not since the scandal Jackson Storm had involved me in. I figured my father also had some doing in that as well, and quite possibly Damien.

I blew out another sigh and pushed back from the railing, walking back into the room. I heard the sound of something dropping, followed closely by swearing. I looked up at the closed bathroom door just as Jackson let out more curses. I frowned and walked up to the door. Half my brain was telling me to just walk away and go to sleep, the other half of my brain was telling me to go for it.

Go for what exactly, I wasn't sure.

I turned the knob and pushed open the door to see Jackson with his back to me, completely shirtless, trying to tie off the end of a bandage around his arm with only one hand. His shirt and jacket were in a crumpled pile on the floor, blood staining the arm of each.

He turned toward me when he heard the sound of the door opening and my mouth went dry when I caught sight of his chiseled chest.

He looked at me, his free hand holding one end of the bandage, the other end he was holding in his teeth. He spit out the one end of the bandage and we both just stared at each other for a long moment.

"Are you going to continue to drool, or would you like to give me a hand?"

I crossed my arms and leaned against the door frame as I looked at him. I shrugged and then looked him up and down. "I'm good to watch."

Jackson shot me a flat look and then shook his head, turning back to the mirror. I continued to watch him struggle for a few more minutes, trying not to laugh.

"Okay," I finally said as I grabbed hold of the bandage he'd once again secured between his teeth. "This is getting painful to watch."

He narrowed his eyes at me as I completely removed the bandage from his arm to rewrap it.

"Do you even know what you're doing?" He asked me as I was gently rewrapping his wound.

I didn't look up at him. Didn't acknowledge him and instead pulled the bandage tighter around his arm.

He winced and then shook his head. "That's not very nice, Babe."

I shrugged as I finished wrapping the wound and then tied it off with ease. "When did he even get you with the knife?" I asked him. "I thought I watched you dodge all his strikes."

Jackson got uncharacteristically quiet.

I looked up at him to see him already staring down at me, his expression soft. When he saw me looking he turned away and shook his head.

"When he would have stabbed you in the back, but instead got your arm-"

"Because you moved me"

"Yeah," Jackson said, suddenly looking very uncomfortable. "let's just say I got the brunt of his attack."

I looked down at his arm and I finished off securing the bandage. I shrugged. "Well, you're a tough guy," I said sarcastically. "You'll live."

"Forgive me," Jackson said. "if I don't believe you since you're not in fact, a doctor."

"No," I agreed. "but I'm definitely better at wrapping wounds than you are."

"I could only use one hand."

I could feel his gaze on me as I began wiping away at the rest of the blood that had rolled down his arm that he hadn't bothered to clean. I looked up at him and felt my breath catch in my throat at the look in his eyes.

It wasn't the usual look in his eyes either. Not the usual flirtatious look. Or the look that said he wanted to see me naked. No, this look was . . . different. Softer. And if I allowed myself to think it for a second, I could have sworn it was actually . . . caring. But of course, Jackson Storm didn't care about anyone.

He moved so he was standing in front of me, rather than beside me. He moved so I was pressed against the bathroom counter with him standing in front of me. And my brain was telling me to move away, but my body was saying the complete opposite.

He reached out and placed his hands on the counter on either side of me, but he still wasn't touching me. Not at all. And he just continued to stare at me, not saying a word.

"You know," I finally spoke up when I was able to get my tongue to unstick from the roof of my mouth. "Personal space is a wonderful concept that I really think you need a lesson in."

An eyebrow raised and amusement shone on his face as he continued to stare at me. "Is it now?" He asked . . . as he moved in closer, yet he still wasn't touching me.

I nodded my head because I found I could no longer get any words out. I was way too close to a very seductive, very attractive, infuriating, currently shirtless, conman who seemed to always know exactly what I was thinking. And right now, that really was not good.

I was expecting it. I knew it was coming. Told myself I was prepared. Even still, when he pressed his lips softly to mine, I felt my knees go weak. When his body pressed into mine, I couldn't help but place my hands on his bare chest. Couldn't help but press myself into him further.

His hands stayed on the counter behind me, keeping me from going anywhere-not that my body would have let me go anywhere-and his mouth moved against mine.

There were two thoughts running through my head. And both were about the same exact thing. A really, really, really bad idea. One half of me was totally in favor of it. The other half was listing off all the reasons why it was a bad fucking idea.

"There you go thinking again," Jackson whispered against my lips as he pulled back slightly. I couldn't stop the shudder that went through my body.

"Thinking is how people stay sane," I muttered.

"Or why they have less fun."

"That doesn't sound right."

"No?" He questioned as he brushed his lips against mine once more. I could feel his smile as he spoke. "Isn't that what's stopping you from having fun right now? Overthinking things?"

"Your definition of fun is not my definition of fun," I barely managed to reply, my voice coming out a breathless whisper.

"Very well," He said as he pulled away from me abruptly and I nearly fell to my knees at the sudden loss of his body holding up mine.

I looked over at him as he began to pick up the mess of bandages and towels he'd made in the bathroom. He stopped briefly to have a drink from the glass I hadn't even noticed was sitting on the counter in amongst everything else.

I could feel my face heating up, knew my cheeks were probably a bright tomato red. But at the moment I couldn't decern if it was from what we'd been doing seconds before, or because of the anger I felt rising up inside me. Anger because he was toying with me once again.

I took my time trying to get my breathing under control. Took my time trying to get my emotions in check once more even though I so badly wanted to hit him . . . or jump him. My mind still couldn't decide which.

Absentmindedly, I began helping him clean up the mess. I picked up a towel and began wiping off the little bit of blood that had dripped onto the counter.

"And here I thought you were done." The smugness in his voice was infuriating and I felt like smacking him.

I stopped what I was doing and looked up at him in annoyance.

He smiled and winked at me.

I shook my head as I tossed the bloody rag in the sink next to him. I leaned back against the wall across from him, as he leaned back against the bathroom counter. I watched as he crossed his arms over his chest, wincing slightly as he did so.

I shook my head. "You are just so-" I cut off and just shook my head again. "they haven't invented a word for you."

"Babe," He said, that stupidly smug smile still in place. "I'm confused," -the look on his face said otherwise- "What did I do this time? You made it clear you didn't want to have fun. I was happy to oblige to your wishes."

I narrowed my eyes at him and crossed my arms over my chest. I was never going to admit it out loud. Never in a million years. But Jackson Storm was right.

Not about having fun.

But about the fact that I needed a distraction.

More than anything though, I was done. I had meant that. Though, not entirely in the way, I had said it.

I was done fighting. That was true. Done thinking of everything I needed to do. Of everything that was consuming me. I was done arguing with him . . . even though sometimes even I had to admit it was fun. I was done trying to keep all my emotions in check. Done trying to keep everything together. But most of all, I was done pretending. Pretending that there was something I didn't want.

I mean hell, if he'd been using me this whole time, why in the hell couldn't I use him?

So, I mirrored his posture. Mirrored his smug expression. I lifted my chin up a little higher and fixed him with a look that was pure challenge.

"I stand by what I said," I told him.

I watched as he tilted his head slightly to the side. "Oh?" He questioned. "When?"

"When I said you don't keep your word."

He raised his eyebrows at me and pushed off from the counter, taking a step toward me. I pushed off the wall and took a step toward him.

"Is that what you really believe?"

I shrugged nonchalantly, kept my gaze locked on his the whole time. "You have no follow-through," I said. "You say all these things, make all these claims, and you don't follow through with any of them."

He took another step toward me and if I had matched it with a step of my own forward, I would have run right into his chest.

"I do believe I asked you to name one instance of me not keeping my word and you didn't," He stated.

"Yeah," I agreed. "but I could."

"Can you now?"

"Oh yes," I replied, still challenging him. We were inches apart and although he was a tall man, I was also a tall woman. And I still had my heels on, which made me just about as tall as he was.

"Well?" Jackson questioned.

"I can." I took a step toward him and stared him down. "Like when you said this dress would look better on the floor." I leaned in so my lips were right next to his ear. "Prove it," I whispered.

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