by Brooke May
Thank you, comments.
“She’s right, Chamberlain.” Now, we look at Jeremy. “You don’t want to go down that road again.”
“I won the championship the next year.” Chamberlains tries to defend himself. He can’t win this argument.
“And now, you have more riding on this. More than the championship.” I place a hand over his. “You have Marissa and me now.” The monster buzzes on the table, indicating that our time is up for this and we need to move down the hall to the next room for his small photo shoot with one of his sponsors. “We need to get going.” I stand and shake Jeremy’s hand. “It was nice meeting you.”
“Likewise. Keep him on his toes.” We both smile.
“I plan on it.” Chamberlain snorts and leads me out of the room and down the hall. “This conversation isn’t over.”
He stops at the door with a Quik Punch Energy Drinks poster on it. “I didn’t think it was.” He guides me into the room with a hand pressed on my lower back. He settles me into a seat out of the way before he does his thing to get ready for the photo shoot, meaning he gets shirtless and wraps his hands along with putting on a pair of fighting shorts he would never wear.
I sit back and get a kick out of the short photographer jumping around yipping at my beast of a man. Chamberlain does different poses with a can of the energy drink and makes a Grr face as the photographer puts it. I crack up. He is no model or actor.
There is a table next to me piled with different flavors of the drink. I pick one up and read over the ingredients and feel my stomach churn at the contents that this company wants my soon-to-be husband to sell.
I really hope he doesn’t drink this stuff.
If he drank too many of these, he could kick the bucket before turning fifty.
One thing I found on this phone, thanks to Beth, is SnapChat. A notification goes off on my phone from her. She was thrilled that I finally got a smartphone, and now, we’ve been addicted to chatting with each other this way when we are busy doing other things.
My hand flies up to cover my mouth before laughter escapes and distracts everyone. The picture I see is one of Scott, sound asleep with makeup on. Marissa was the artist, that much is obvious, but I’m sure Beth encouraged it. She captioned it: “Uncle Scott’s naptime makeover.”
He’s going to freak when he wakes up.
“He’s quite the specimen, isn’t he?” I look up from my phone to find a woman standing next to me. She is breathtaking; blond hair pinned at the base of her long creamy neck, her makeup is light and perfect except for her bright red lips. She is wearing a look that I’ve seen so many women wear when they look at Chamberlain. Her abnormally thin body is encased in a suit that looks like it costs more than my phone, and I’m sure it is. “Andrea, league coordinator for Dallas.”
I stand before her, taking her offered hand. I don’t feel comfortable sitting while she stands, especially with the look she is shooting at Chamberlain and from the years of living under my parents’ roof. “I’m Katie.” I never ever introduce myself as that. Chamberlain is the only one who gets to call me that, but from her eyes darting to Chamberlain, to me, and back and forth once more, it dawns on her who I am.
“The Katie?” Her shocked expression makes me happy and content.
“Yes, Chamberlain’s Katie.” My smile grows as she shrinks back a little. “And yes, he is quite a specimen.” I look fondly at him as a person comes up and sprays water on him to give him the look of sweating. “Very fine.” I turn back to her. She must know that it is a no-win situation when it comes to Chamberlain. Most men don’t get tattoos with the names of the women they love on them. Chamberlain did because I was it for him.
“So Marissa?” She fidgets, making an ill attempt at changing the subject.
“Our daughter,” I state; she doesn’t need to know anymore.
“Oh, I never knew he had a family.”
I frown. “Haven’t you met Scott?” She doesn’t answer, so I continue. “They are like brothers.” She looks back at Chamberlain with a look of longing. He is something she will never get. As much as it pains me to judge someone, I do. She reminds me of Zoey—superficial and fake as a Barbie doll.
I hear the photographer tell Chamberlain they are done and give him the all clear to leave. “Well, I’d better be off.” Andrea smiles sourly at me and takes her leave, never bothering to talk to Chamberlain.
Why was she here then?
“What did Andrea want?” Chamberlain comes to me, pulling his shirt back on and grabbing his hat from the table behind me.
“You.” I hook my thumb into the waist of his shorts, and we head out the door. “Wait till you see what Marissa and Beth did to Scott.”
XOXO
“WE WILL BE in Vegas when you get there,” Aunt Jackie tells me. I called her while Beth and I were out. We decided to do a girls’ lunch with Marissa before we had to get to Chamberlain’s fight tonight. Fiona stayed behind to make sure Chamberlain had enough fuel in his tank. “And Chamberlain already gave us the hotel name and room number, so don’t worry.”
“Great,” I breathe; she knows me so well.
“Look, K.C.” Beth points at a magazine vendor at the same time Aunt Jackie says, “Douglas called me this morning.”
“What?” I question them.
They start talking at the same time again. Beth pulls out a magazine from the rack and thrusts it in my face. “Aunt Jackie, wait a minute, please.”
Pushing the magazine back, I focus on a giant picture of Chamberlain and me in a tight embrace, looking into each other’s eyes. Above our picture is the title of the magazine and below it says, “The Predator’s Little Prey.”
“Oh, no.” The phone becomes loose in my grip and nearly drops. I don’t know; I don’t feel anything as I continue to stare at the magazine.
Why do people have to get in other people’s business?
“She’ll call you back, Jackie,” I hear Beth end my call. “K.C., are you okay?”
“Mommy, what wrong?” Marissa tugs on my shorts.
Shaking my head, I tear my eyes away from the magazine. “Fine,” I croak out.
“You gonna pay for that?” We both turn to the vendor.
“Yes.” I reach into my wallet and pull out some money to pay him. I don’t know why I’m doing this to myself. I shouldn’t care and just ignore it, but I can’t.
“I’ve sold a lot of these today,” he states, accepting my five dollars and giving me back my change.
“That’s nice.” My voice still sounds like there is a frog in my throat. “I need to get to Chamberlain.” I scoop up Marissa, grab Beth’s hand, and haul her down the street to our hotel.
We make it back at breakneck speed to find Chamberlain eating. Well, gorging, on his lunch while Scott does the same. “‘Hat ‘rong, baby?” Chamberlain asks with a mouth full of food.
“Mommy’s mad!” Marissa skips up to the guys and crawls up on her own stool, picking food off her dad’s plate.
“Why are you mad?” Chamberlain swallows his food and turns his full attention to me.
“Not mad, just …” I wave my arms around. “I don’t know.”
“What do you have there?” Chamberlain points his fork at the magazine in my hand.
I walk up to him and put it down on the table and open it up to the two-page spread of pictures of us around Orlando and a few shots from our day at the beach; Marissa is in them as well.
Chamberlain ‘The Predator’ Lawrence has finally given up on his life of celibacy for this hot little number. Since Lawrence came into the fighting scene four years ago, he was never seen or photographed with a woman until now. Sources close to the fighter say that this woman is the mysterious Katie, whose name the fighter has tattooed on his chest, and the two are engaged to be married.
Another source says this beauty is the daughter of Massachusetts Senator Douglas Cunningham. Whoever she is, she comes with baggage in the form of a little girl. Nothing else is really known
at this time on who this woman is who has finally captured the Predator, but this reporter thinks he will have his hands full with her, her family, and her daughter. Ready to play Daddy now, Lawrence?
The article doesn’t say anything offensive or belittling, but it still angers me. I don’t like other people being in my business. It was bad enough growing up with everyone watching me because of who my family was. I thought that I would finally get the freedom that everyone else gets in the world, privacy to my own life.
“This must be why my father called Aunt Jackie,” I mutter, but what I wonder is why he would care all of a sudden.
“It isn’t that bad.” Chamberlain pulls me to him and kisses my cheek.
“I would rather not have anything out there,” I reply defensively.
“I can’t help it, Katie. The press has been obsessed with me.”
“It’s because you made them overly curious about your dating life,” Scott cuts in. “Give it a few weeks after the championship, and they’ll forget about you and leave you two alone.”
Biting my lip, I nod at Scott. “Let’s hope.”
“Everything will be okay,” Chamberlain reassures me before going back to his lunch. “Hey, that’s mine, Marissa.” He pretends to growl as she takes another bite of his lasagna.
We spend the rest of the afternoon relaxing in our suite’s living room. Well, everyone except for Chamberlain. He hasn’t sat back down since he got up after finishing his lunch. He is pacing around the room like a caged beast, pumping himself up, muttering to himself, and looking like the predator he is known for. Every now and then, Scott will shout something that will rile Chamberlain up when he notices he is winding down.
Beth has spent most of the time watching women’s boxing reruns on the television, ignoring Scott who decided to sit next to her and try to talk. She hasn’t really talked to him at all this week. She wishes he would just admit defeat, but I find it entertaining that he has finally met his match.
An hour and a half before the fight, we pack up and head out the door. Marissa hugs Chamberlain fiercely. “Kick butt, Daddy.” She makes a fist and has the cutest, most stern face on.
“I will.” He nods at her before placing a kiss on her forehead and placing her back on the floor to stay with Fiona.
“Be good.” I kiss her as well and follow Chamberlain out the door.
For a change of pace, Scott drives us to the venue rather than Chamberlain taking over behind the wheel. Chamberlain needs to stay as focused as he can for the fight. There is a lot riding on this one, including Chamberlain’s well-being.
“I miss my car,” Scott grumbles when we pull the van into the underground parking lot. “I can’t wait to be at home.”
“Why, so you can drive yourself?” I tease.
“Or because all your good whores are there?” Beth adds in, not in a teasing matter at all. She wouldn’t be wrong; Scott hooked up with a lot of different women when I was around them. I doubt that has changed.
“I just miss my car. She’s the only one who lets me be as rough as I want and never complains when I drive another,” he spits back.
“Pig.” Beth brushes past him after getting out of the van and hightails it to the bank of elevators.
“You’re never going to win her over that way.” I look around for the press and release a stressed breath when the coast is clear.
“Taking the stairs,” Chamberlain grunts to us before taking off up the flight of stairs next to the elevators.
“I know.” Scott finally speaks to me before we get in the elevator.
“Then change it,” I hiss out before Beth hears. I happen to think the two of them would be good for each other. But they need to discover that themselves.
Once upstairs, Scott and Chamberlain head for the locker room while Beth and I take our seats to watch the other fights. There aren’t as many this time, probably due to the fact that the championship for all weight classes is next week. This round is like the semi-finals.
Before we know it, Chamberlain and the Destroyer are stepping in the ring. Beth and I leave our seats and head to Chamberlain’s corner. Beth has her medical bag in hand, something he’s lacked in his fight corner until now. I’m glad, but I want to know what made her think she needed to bring it.
“Why do you have that?”
“You never know. I did take a first responders class.”
“All right, but if he needs it and you hurt him more, I’m going to be very angry.” I try to sound threatening, but it never works on her.
She only laughs at me. “Right.”
The first round is uneventful; they get a feel for one another again. It has been over two years since they were in the ring together. Chamberlain does much better; from what I can tell, he’s far more focused, and I pray he is drowning out the crowd. He manages to get the upper hand during that round, but it is short-lived.
The second round is stressful. I can see with my own eyes now why they call him The Destroyer. He doesn’t care who his opponent is; he will cut them down any way that is legal in the ring. There is no friendly competition with this fighter, only blood.
He lands a few good blows on Chamberlain’s left side. The sound of his gloved fist connecting with Chamberlain’s bare flesh makes my jaw hurt from clenching my teeth. I am able to breathe again when the bell rings, and the fighters go back to their corners.
Chamberlain is winded and trying his best not to show that his left side is bothering him. I stay on the ground, but reach up and run my hand down his sweaty arm. Scott assists Beth in cleaning some blood off his face. I continue to stroke his arm when I look over at Destroyer. He looks cocky and incredibly arrogant. He clocks me before standing again. He puckers his lips and pretends to send me a couple of kisses. I curl my lip up in disgust and turn my attention back to Chamberlain, but not before catching him make a V shape with his fingers, raise it to his mouth, stick his tongue out, and wiggle it between his fingers.
Gross.
“Chamberlain.” I try to use a sweet tone, pleading with him to look at me.
“Yes, panda?”
“Kick his ass.” I give him a look of determination and try to keep it when surprise registers on his face and melts into his own determination. The referee calls them back to the center. Chamberlain stands and slides his mouth guard back into place. He nods at me before bouncing away.
Scott and Beth hop out and stand on either side of me. This round starts off and stays completely different from the previous two. Destroyer starts off on the offense, but soon is put against the ropes and trying his best to block the onslaught of Chamberlain’s fists. Chamberlain does not back off, pounding away, over and over again until his opponent’s knees buckle and he drops in front of Chamberlain.
The referee steps in, making Chamberlain back off and wait for him to get back to his feet. As soon as he manages to stand, Chamberlain is on him again like white on rice. He is relentless, a completely uncaged beast. The round ends, and the referee ends up having to help Destroyer back to his corner. His legs look like Jell-O, and Chamberlain is still itching to wail on him.
After a few tense minutes, the officials come back with their review. After calling both fighters to the center, the referees announce Chamberlain as the winner. His eyes sparkle as a roar of joy erupts from him. One would think that this fight means more to him than the championship, and they would be right. He beat the man who put him in the hospital last time.
He wastes no time pulling me into his arms and kissing me with a passion I can’t wait to have more of. The camera lights flash around us, but I don’t care. I love him, and I’m so proud of him for winning this fight. He fought like he should and stayed focused.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chamberlain
I NEVER HAD a problem getting up in the morning until Katie came into my life. I was always the type to get up the first time my alarm would go off and never ever hit the snooze button. But that all changed the first time I held her
in my arms with her tight, sexy little butt tucked up against me.
After she had vanished, I fell back into my same routine of getting up right with my alarm; I had to. I forced myself up every morning while attempting not to grab her pillow. Every time I would lay down during the first couple of weeks, her scent would permeate off the pillow and glide over to me, teasing. It felt like a fucking knife in my heart each time. When her scent faded, I thought the heartache would dull, but it never did.
My alarm buzzes five minutes after going off the first time. I only pull Katie closer and rub my chin up and down her bare shoulder, making room to rest my head. “Chamberlain.” She bats a hand blindly behind her, swatting at me. “Shut that stupid thing off.” She’s so adorable like this; half asleep and mostly grouchy.
I reach over and shut it off before rolling back over to her. “Katie, baby, we need to get up. Our flight is in a few hours.”
“No,” she whines, burrowing her face into her pillow. “Go away.” She swats at me again. I can’t help but laugh as I jump out of bed, pulling the covers with me. Katie used to always be a morning person, mainly to escape her parents and sister early in the morning but also to work out. Motherhood must have taken it out of her.
“Chamberlain!” She shrieks as I hoist her into my arms and proceed to carry her out of the room to breakfast.
“It’s time to wake up, woman.” She tries her best to wrestle out of my arms, but she should know better. I flip her onto her stomach and over my shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere except to the breakfast table.” I slap her tight ass. Not so gently, I set her down on one of the stools before kissing and ruffling up the nest my daughter calls hair. I take my seat and dig right into my breakfast, relishing in the chatting, rough housing, and playfulness that is my family. In a couple of days’ time, Katie is going to officially be mine in every form of the word.
