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She leaned into me, bringing with her the scent of chamomile, and whispered, “What happened?”

“Eoghan followed them to the club to make sure everything was going to stay copacetic for them—he’s a control freak. Anyway, he broke two guys’ arms...” I rubbed my chin. “I remember because it was one of my clubs and I had to pay the bastards off.”

“You mean it’s not out of the ordinary for him to break random people’s arms?” Camille questioned with a laugh.

I arched a brow. “What do you think?”

She chuckled, then murmured, “By the way, I claimed one of the lower bedrooms as mine. I hope that’s okay?”

I just shrugged. “Fine with me. You won’t be sleeping in there though,” I tacked on, a warning throbbing through the words.

“I never said I would be,” she pointed out. “In fact, I was going to ask Bagpipes to move the bed. I’d like to buy a desk and a few other things.”

“Go for it. I’m sure Bagpipes will have a blast as your furniture mover. Although, tell him in advance because he’ll bring Forrest to help out if you want to shift a large piece like the bed.”

I already knew which she’d claimed for her own, because I’d been in there to check things out.

“Okay, will do.” She took a sip of water, then asked, “Mind if I serve myself some sake?”

“Knock yourself out.”

Her delicate hand reached out to cup the bottle, the short nails catching my eye as she poured us both some, as well as the polished stone bracelets she wore. They were pretty, in moonstone, but they didn’t fit her outfit. They were all uniform in size, but for one. It was as large as a piece of bubblegum.

When she saw me looking at it, she grimaced. “It’s for motion sickness. If I’m not driving, I get nauseated.”

“Do they work?” I asked, surprised.

“It’s pretty effective if you get the right spot. It works on acupressure points.” Her smile turned cheeky. “Don’t tell Bagpipes though.”

“Why not?”

“I told him I have to drive or I’ll puke all over your car seats.”

Amused, I chuckled, but I pointed out, “You should let him drive. He has a lot of experience.”

“I had a defensive driving course when I was younger,” she informed me. “I was even trained how to respond in hostage situations.”

I arched a brow. “I’m surprised your father cared enough.”

“Me too,” she said wryly, “but remember, I was an item to sell. You can’t sell it if it’s damaged goods.”

A thought occurred to me. “Camille?”

“Yes?”

“I know it’s not exactly dinner talk but...” I rested the polished ebony chopsticks on their small perch. “Why did you wait to lose your virginity?”

She blinked. “Well, a part of me was scared, but mostly it was because I was a romantic.”

“Was?”

“Yes. Was.” The word was firm. “I waited even though I’d have been safer sleeping around, but I tried to perpetuate the belief that I was a whore by hanging out with the brothers and at the MC clubhouse when I had time. That must have protected me because he never came for me.

“To be honest, I was surprised Abramovicz still wanted me after my past.” She shrugged. “He must have pissed Father off, and it was a favor or something.”

My brow puckered as I took her in—she truly believed that. I shook my head. “What do you see when you look in the mirror?”

“Umm, me?”

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