Fueling His Hunger (Masters of Adrenaline 2)

“What’s wrong?” Fox peered over her shoulder.

“It’s my mom with another wedding idea.” She read the text then threw her head back and groaned. “Oh my god, this woman is going to be the death of me.”

Fox laughed. “What is it now? Live doves flying in with flower petals?”

“Close.” Addison stared down at her phone. “She wants the guests to release butterflies as we leave the ceremony.”

“That could be pretty,” Ophelia blurted, then regretted it. She didn’t want to seem like she wasn’t on Addison’s side. Clearly, she didn’t like the idea of butterflies. “I mean . . . Sorry.”

“No, no,” Addison said smiling. “It’s a fine idea. It’s just that Fox and I wanted a small, private ceremony, then a backyard picnic after. But my mom . . .” She sighed heavily. “Well, I’m an only child, and she’s queen of her scrapbooking league so . . . There was no way I was getting away with anything simple.”

Fox rubbed his hand in circles on his fiancée’s back. “We told her she could be in charge of the decorations, thinking she would just crochet some doilies or something. But now we have two ice sculptures, a live band, a swan-shaped cake—”

“Because they mate for life,” Addison explained.

“Baby photos of Addison and me on every table . . .”

Addison winced and the guys laughed.

“At least she wants to be involved,” Ophelia pointed out. What would her mother do if Ophelia ever decided to get married? Not crochet doilies, that was for sure.

“Her intentions are good,” Addison agreed, then wrinkled her nose. “It’s just . . . not really our style.”

“Weddings rarely have to do with the people getting married.” Fox pecked her on the lips. “Apparently.”

Luke dug into the appetizers. “Yeah. Just let her do what she wants.” His eyes twinkled. “I can’t wait to see the wedding scrapbook.”

“Scrapbook?” Addison’s brows shot up. “You mean scrapbooks. She’s got three already decorated and waiting for the photos. The wedding isn’t even until next year!”

“It’s sweet.” Atlas chuckled.

Fox tsked as he stared down at his fiancée. “How did you turn out to be such a hooligan?”

She smirked. “I fell in with the wrong crowd.”

He swatted her ass and she pretended to be offended, grinning all the while. As Ophelia peered around her, she realized this wasn’t anything like an episode of The Sopranos. These were ordinary people who loved each other. Well, maybe not normal. They were like some kind of kinky, tattooed Norman Rockwell painting, and she wanted to be in the portrait.

“So I hear you’re taking over the Covington empire,” Atlas said.

“Yeah. Trying to anyway.” She chuckled humorlessly.

“She’s doing a great job.” Luke scooted closer, as if to protect her from anyone who dared to say otherwise.

Atlas finished chewing a piece of cheese, then said, “So you think you can get us into the top-floor suite in LA? I hear it’s awesome.”

“Atlas!” Luke growled. “Don’t be a dick.”

“What?” He shoveled food into his mouth again. “It’s impossible to get in, and she’s the Hotel Queen. We should take advantage of that.”

“Queen?” Luke gazed down at her with a lopsided smile. “Princess, maybe.” He winked, then pressed his lips to her temple.

His princess. He still treated her like one. Like she was his. God, she loved being his.

“Ophelia,” Atlas said gravely. “You could do better than Luke, just so you know.”

“Fuck you!” Luke feigned annoyance and pelted him with a grape. “Where’s your loyalty?”

Fox and Atlas laughed, but Addison narrowed her eyes at Luke and Ophelia.