Chapter 3 The Innocent Lie

Morning sunlight streamed through the grimy motel window, illuminating the chaotic mess of last night-clothes strewn across the floor, a crumpled blanket half-dangling from the bed, and Graham Marcus curled up on the hard, scratchy carpet with a pillow that smelled faintly of mildew and regret.

His back ached.

His pride ached more.

And yet... his gaze drifted upward to the sleeping figure on the bed.

Blair Walker.

Or rather, that was the name she'd given him. He still wasn't sure if it was real or just something she'd tossed out to keep him guessing.

She lay diagonally across the mattress, snoring softly like an unbothered baby piglet in a silk blanket. Her hoodie had ridden up, revealing a glimpse of her midriff and the pink waistband of cartoon-print underwear. Her cheeks were smushed into the pillow, her lips parted slightly, her arm dangling lazily off the edge.

Graham blinked slowly.

*Is this really the same girl who held a knife to my throat last night?*

Somehow, in the span of twelve hours, this strange girl had kissed him, stripped in front of him, stolen his last twenty bucks, pretended to cry, blackmailed him, and then fallen asleep like nothing happened. And still, instead of tossing her out the window, he found himself watching her like she was a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.

He rubbed his temple. *This must be karma.*

The girl stirred, yawned, and slowly blinked her eyes open. When she saw him staring, her brows furrowed, and she muttered with sleepy indignation, "Why are you staring at me like that? Haven't seen a beautiful woman before?"

Beautiful? Graham resisted a snort. She had drool on her cheek and bedhead that looked like she'd wrestled a raccoon in her sleep.

But her eyes-large, clear, framed with ridiculously long lashes-blinked at him with innocent annoyance. Despite everything, he cracked a smile.

"Name," she said bluntly, sitting up and hugging the pillow to her chest. "You still haven't told me your name."

"Graham. Graham Marcus."

"Graham?" She paused. "As in... like the cracker?"

He sighed. "Not even close."

"No, seriously. Graham? That's such a serious name." She giggled. "Sounds like you own a law firm."

"Well, you're the one who climbed into a stranger's motel bed and drooled on my pillow," he replied dryly. "Let's not throw stones, Blair."

She snorted. "Fair. Alright, Mr. Marcus. Quick question."

She leaned in slightly, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Are you still a virgin?"

Graham froze. "What kind of-?! What does that have to do with anything?!"

Blair waggled her eyebrows. "C'mon. Just curious. Last night didn't *really* count, right?"

Graham's face turned crimson. "If we're not counting last night, then... yes."

Blair let out a laugh so loud it shook the ceiling fan. She rolled on the bed, kicking her legs as she giggled.

"Oh my god, you're *such* a prude. That's adorable."

As she laughed, her blanket slipped lower, revealing smooth, pale skin and the delicate straps of her bra. Graham's eyes widened-and then locked on something.

A tiny red dot on her upper arm.

It was small but distinct. Almost like a birthmark... but not quite.

Graham squinted. "Wait a minute... is that-?"

"What?" she asked between snorts.

He lunged up from the floor and grabbed her wrist-not roughly, but enough to make her stop laughing.

"What the hell, Graham? Personal space?"

He pointed to the dot. "That. On your arm. Where did that come from?"

She glanced at it, shrugged. "No idea. Maybe a mosquito bite?"

"No." He leaned in, eyes narrowing. "I've only seen that mark once before. My master showed it to me when I was twelve. It's called a 'Purity Seal.' Ancient families used to apply it to girls to prove their chastity. You'd crush a specific gecko that had consumed cinnabar-don't ask me how they knew-and the resulting dye would bind permanently to a girl's skin. It fades only after... certain physical acts."

Blair froze. "You're joking."

"I wish I was. You still have yours. Meaning all that crap last night about 'absorbing my masculine energy' to heal yourself? Bull."

Her expression faltered.

"You tricked me."

She scoffed. "Tricked? You looked pretty happy to be tricked when I kissed you."

He raised a brow. "You're a con artist."

She pouted. "And you're a nosy prude with a superiority complex."

"I'm a doctor!"

"Doctor my ass. You slapped me last night!"

"You blackmailed me into housing you!"

She gasped. "That slap was so uncalled for!"

"I tapped you!"

"My butt is delicate!"

The absurdity of the moment crashed over them like a wave. Blair burst into fake tears, wrapping the blanket tighter around herself and burying her face in her knees.

"You're a monster! A big mean man bullying a poor, helpless girl!"

"Oh, come on," Graham muttered. "You're the one who kissed me first."

"You touched me first."

"You sat on me."

"You grabbed me!"

"I was *confused!*"

She peeked at him from between her fingers. "You know, you keep arguing, but you're still here."

"I was going to leave."

"Then go!"

"Fine!"

He stormed toward the door.

She sniffled dramatically. "You kissed me... hugged me... touched me... slept in the same room... and now you're leaving me alone?"

He froze.

"Oh, what now?" he groaned.

"If you leave me," she said sweetly, "I'll report you for rape."

His head whipped around. "WHAT?!"

She batted her lashes. "Attempted. Obviously. Not my fault you're too slow to get the job done."

"You're insane."

"And you're cute when you panic."

Graham stared at her for a long time. She had her chin propped on her knees now, eyes shimmering with fake sadness, a hint of a smirk on her lips.

He sighed. "You're seriously not normal."

"Nope. But you still haven't left."

He looked down, defeated. She was right.

"Alright," he muttered. "You win. But only because I don't have time for courtrooms and lawsuits."

She beamed. "Knew you had a conscience."

"Don't push it."

Blair tilted her head. "So... where are we going?"

"We're not going anywhere."

"But you just said-"

"I said I'd tolerate you. That's different from dragging you around while I figure out how to raise a million dollars."

She blinked. "A million?"

"I need to enter the Crestwood Medical Symposium next month. Only top-ranked healers are invited. Entry fee's steep."

"A million dollars steep?!"

Graham nodded grimly. "Winner gets prestige, a medical license for any state, and endorsement deals from hospitals across the country."

Blair's eyes sparkled with interest. "That... sounds lucrative."

"It is. But I'm broke, and I don't need a distraction."

She wrapped the blanket around herself like a cloak. "But I can help."

"No."

"You need connections. I have them."

"Doubt it."

"I know people who'd pay thousands for underground treatments-"

"No."

"Graham."

He turned toward the door again.

Blair's voice softened. "Where would I go, if you leave me?"

He paused.

"I don't have family," she said quietly. "Not anymore. My mom died when I was young. My dad remarried, and my stepmother... let's just say if I go back, there won't be much of me left to return."

Graham looked back at her. Her smirk was gone now. Her arms wrapped around herself protectively, eyes downcast. Whether it was real or another trick, he couldn't be sure.

But something in her voice-just a note of rawness-struck him.

He sighed, long and loud. "You're manipulative. You're trouble. And you're a walking lawsuit."

"I'm also your best shot at surviving this city," she said without looking up.

He chuckled bitterly. "You're unbelievable."

"I've been told."

Silence settled between them.

Graham ran a hand through his messy hair. "Alright, Blair. You can stick with me. But you follow my rules, stay out of trouble, and if you try to scam me again... I swear, I'll throw you to those thugs myself."

She smiled like Christmas came early. "Deal, partner."

He narrowed his eyes. "Don't call me that."

"Got it, *boss.*"

She was still grinning when he opened the motel door.

And still grinning when he muttered under his breath, "I'm going to regret this."