Chapter 225: Questions
*It’s just for us to get to know each other. The girls will use it to set up social media accounts for The Clubhouse. If you don’t want it used, put a star by it. – Karan*
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Chance demanded as he held the questionnaire in front of him.
“No, I’m not.” She said calmly. “And, yes, you will be at Thursday’s luncheon. And wearing your work shirt.”
"I'm not wearing bells." He grumbled.
She smiled sweetly at him and appreciated the view of him in her office. The black polo was pulled tight across his chest and abdomen. The sleeves were snug around his tattooed arms, and she knew firsthand how it felt to be wrapped up in those strong muscles. Just as she knew the strength in his denim clad legs.
She took him in, all six feet two inches of muscle, tattoos, and attitude.
Unconsciously, Karan gave a soft moan.
Chance strode across the room and gently cupped her chin, tipping her face upwards.
“You are about to be a married woman to a man who could bury me in concrete. Don’t make those sounds around me.” His voice was soft and seductive, but his eyes were hard.
“You can come play.” She suggested with a purr in her voice.
“I know several of my brothers enjoy it. But I’ve never been into multiple partners.” He said releasing her chin.
“At least not at one time.” He added with a wink, and she gave a small laugh.
“That’s a pity.” Karan said with a shrug. “But I did see Jordan eyeing you.”
“Been there, done that, staying away from that brand of crazy.” He said sitting down in the pink paisley print armchair.
“Some level of crazy that I should worry about?” She asked going back to the questionnaire on her desk.
“Nah. She’s good with kids. But I took her to dinner once and never tapped it.” He saw her look up as her eyebrows went up in question and knew he would have to explain.
“She thought that she could be the one to tame me. I felt like a damned project.” Rolling his eyes at her, he grinned. “Tell me about Rye.”
“You, stay away from her.” Karan said with no humor in her voice. “I’ve told you this before. Stay. Away. From. Her.”
“With the look of pure hatred that I got, don’t think that’s going to be a problem. The other single women were flirting with me, trying to get my attention.” He shook his head and picked up a fairy figurine, posing it in an inappropriate position. “She ignored me except for the die, go to hell and die again look.”
“Good. You need to leave that one alone.”
“There’s this … I don’t know.” Chance said. “Sadness around her. Like she’s waiting for something bad to happen.”
Karan nodded and gave a soft sigh. “I asked Werewolf to do a deeper dive into her background. Her dad died in Afghanistan with the army. Her mom did a downward spiral until she died in a head on car accident. She has a sister who is wanted by the police. And her son was born early.” Karan said sadly. “She spends most of her time at the hospital with her son. I gave her a two-hour lunch so she can go check on him.”
“Other teachers okay with that?” He asked skeptically.
“Several of them are the ones that suggested it. They saw her checking on him on her phone. He’s so tiny and adorable.”
Karan picked up her phone and pulled up the picture that Rye sent her. The heartbeat bear in the incubator was twice the size of the infant. An oxygen tube went into his nose along with a small yellow feeding tube. A tiny IV needle was in his foot and a small knit blue cap on his head. The diaper was loose around his tiny body.
“Oh my God.” Chance said in amazement. “This must be the baby that they were talking about. He *is* tiny.”
“Almost three weeks old and not quite three pounds.” Karan confirmed.
“Three weeks?” Chance exclaimed. “Why is she working?”
“Not everyone can take six weeks off.” Karan pointed out. “Now go do your questions.”
“Damn.” Chance said standing up and heading back to his office. “I was hoping that you would forget.”
“Ha! Camille worked hard on this. You ever see her shoot?” Karan shook her head with a look of fear on her face. “I am not pissing that little bitch off!”
He turned back towards her and, giving her a look of absolute terror, covered his crotch. Then he very carefully and deliberately walked backwards to go sit behind his desk.
Without further questions, he began to answer the questions.
Camille was taught to shoot by her dad who had been a sniper in the military. The teen and Dom had a strange relationship, and she taught the girl how to use throwing knives. At the shooting range she never aimed for center mass. Camille always aimed for the crotch. Very rarely did she ever miss.
With either bullets and knives.
As if those two facts didn’t make the seventeen-year-old scary enough, she would spar with Taz, the resident MMA fighter and her trainer, Kevin.
And she was Trigg’s daughter. There was no way that Chance was pissing off his president’s baby girl.
