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As the string quartet played Vivaldi’s “Spring,” Addison’s parents walked her down the aisle. Every few steps, ladies strategically placed along the runner released butterflies into their path. Addison’s mother beamed as if the wedding was the crowning achievement of her entire life, while Addison blinked in amused annoyance as butterflies momentarily blinded her. Several clung to her hair, and Atlas could see her checking the runner suspiciously, to make sure she wasn’t going to squash any.
Once Addison’s parents kissed her and moved to their seats, she and Fox turned to each other, their gazes locking as though the officiant wasn’t clearing his throat in an effort to get their attention. Atlas recognized the look they were giving each other and considered calling for people to hide the eyes of any small children in the audience.
For the sake of his brother’s guests, he straight-armed Fox in the shoulder.
“Wedding!” Atlas barked in Fox’s ear.
His brother shook himself, then gave the guests a charismatic smile. Several of the older aunties from Addison’s side tittered behind their hands.
The officiant went into a speech about love being the universal language, and Atlas forced himself not to listen to the sappiest parts so he wouldn’t get caught grimacing. The best part was that Addison kept glancing over at the officiant in disbelief, as though she hadn’t vetted any of this. Knowing her mother, it was probably a surprise addition to the basic ceremony.
By the time Fox slid the ring on her finger, the two of them were grinning at each other like feral animals. There was no way they were going to get through the reception without sneaking off to screw.
“You may kiss the bride,” the officiant finally said. Their first kiss as husband and wife would have made the movie version rated R—not grossly inappropriate, just . . . intense. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Addison groping Fox’s ass. Fox bit her lip, and she gave a soft groan that Atlas coughed to cover.
“Stop,” Fox muttered, maybe more to himself. “Think scrapbook.”
“Think grandparents,” Addison agreed.
They backed away from each other with a look that make Luke say, “Don’t make me get a bucket of cold water, you two.”
The second round of pictures went more smoothly than the first, and in no time they were listening to adorable speeches from Addison’s family, and from Fox’s father and uncle. There was a fancy dinner that looked as if it had been plated by a culinary master. The bouquet was thrown. The first dance was danced. Thank god Addison hadn’t wanted some sort of choreographed flash mob first dance.
When it was safe, Atlas snuck out for some air.
“Are you allowed to be out here?” Rune asked as Atlas walked up to the guys from Fitte. The three owners of the BDSM club they hung out at stood against a retaining wall, watching the swan wrangler trying to pen his charges in the growing darkness.
Seeing the guys here in a family atmosphere felt odd, but reminded him he really wanted to start looking for a submissive for a serious relationship. A woman who wasn’t just passing through his life. That wouldn’t have been possible only a few years ago—not with their line of work. However, now that Fox and Luke were attached, there was no reason why he couldn’t have a serious relationship too.
“I think my duties for the day are done,” Atlas mused, running a hand through his hair. It was longer than usual, and Luke’s wife, Ophelia, had been teasing him that he looked marginally less scary. She wanted to hook him up with her friend Priya, but the few times he’d met the woman she’d just stared at him in horrified fascination. “They had the first dance so I think I may be a free man.”
Loke chuckled. “Look at us, all cleaned up. Actors. Like respectable gentlemen.”
All three of them had their long hair pulled back, and wore expensive suits. The tattoos at their necks and on their hands gave them away, though, and the way they held themselves. They were dominant metalheads to the core, and fancy clothes couldn’t hide their true natures. Was it like that with him, Fox, and Luke? He doubted they looked as dangerous, but maybe he was in denial. Atlas himself had layered on more muscle but lacked the tattoos his brothers and friends were covered in. Not one for adornments, he’d just never bothered.
The door popped open, and a couple came out. The man fished in his jacket for a moment before pulling out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. The woman moved away from him and gazed out into the twilight.
Shit. Was that what’s-her-name? The cop?
Mila.
He’d hoped it had been a coincidence that she’d come into the shop, but a second encounter seemed more like stalking.
“Mila,” he said quietly.
Her head came up and she looked around in confusion, then she spotted him and her eyes widened.
“Oh . . . Hi.” Her surprise seemed genuine. Maybe it was. How good of an actor was she? “Atlas, right? From the computer place?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
She walked over to him and he forced h
imself not to let his gaze rest on the curves her little black dress showed off to their very best advantage. Fuck, she was hot. Why did she have to be a cop?
“A tux? Are you in the wedding party?” she asked, gazing up at him. Damn, she was easy to look at. She dropped her gaze for a moment and when she looked up at him again from under her lashes, he wondered if she was submissive, at least in bed. It was probably just wishful thinking on his part.
“It’s my brother’s wedding.”
