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“Eddie!”
“Who are you?” she demanded as soon as she was within distance.
“Jacon, and who are you?” I retorted.
Eddie, as I now knew her name was, smirked. That was one hell of a familiar glance.
“I’m Daddy’s princess. Which, as my Daddy is Drake, it means I am the top princess as he’s the boss,” she said, hands on hips.
“Am I meant to bow?” I teased, and Eddie’s face screwed up as she thought it over.
Mac and Ace both groaned again.
“No. I’ll let you off. Have you got too’s?” Eddie asked.
“Huh?”
“Tattoos. Eddie is a whore for tattoos. She’s had every man in this club stripped to his boxers to show her their ink,” Mac answered.
“Ah. No, I don’t, but I want some,” I replied.
“Then you must get some. Nobody is allowed to be here unless they have a tattoo. I made it law, and you have to obey! Or Daddy will kick you out,” she stated.
A smile twitched on my lips.
“Eddie, what are you doing?” a woman asked.
I glanced up to see the stunning female who’d been with Drake. Drake was watching from the bar, amused and holding the pink baby bundle.
“Laying the law down, so Jacon knows he has to get a tattoo to make me happy. And Daddy says keeping me cheerful is very important, and if someone makes me sad, he’ll beat their ass!” Eddie glanced at me with a triumphant look.
Holy shit, this kid was one of a kind.
“Edwina Michaelson! You cannot make demands like that!” the woman I assumed was Phoe said.
“Mama Phoe, you know it’s true, so why are you arguing? Hush up, and let the princess do the talking!” Eddie chirped.
Phoe went red and opened her mouth. “Drake!” she yelled. Eddie rolled her eyes. “Swear to God your father is making a monster out of you, young lady!”
“What now?” Drake asked resigned, moments later.
“Deal with your princess!” Phoe said, snatching the baby and walking away.
Eddie turned to Drake as he raised one eyebrow, and she mimicked his expression. I hid a smile behind my hands as the tiny terror faced off against her hulking father.
“Eddie, you want ice-cream tomorrow?” Drake inquired.
“Yes.”
“Then could you not be a brat when your mother can hear?” Drake asked patiently.
“Yup. But I get sprinkles, too,” Eddie bartered, and I choked on a laugh.
“Then watch your mouth around your mom. You know she likes to think you’re a sweet little girl. Not a fuckin’ diva in the making!” Drake warned.
“And for that, Daddy, I want sauce too!” Eddie taunted and sauntered away.
“That kid will kill me one day!” Drake swore as we laughed.
