My smile stays fixed in place through teeth clenched hard enough to make my jaw ache. I’d meticulously planned every activity down to the minute, but hearing that women who don’t even know me are questioning my professional abilities makes me want to walk right over there and say something.
And now I’m annoyed with myself for not realizing sooner that being maid-of-honor is going to mean spending significant amounts of time with the type of women that I typically avoid. Josie has never had many female friends. So, given the number of bridesmaids I’d been told to plan for, most of them have to be friends or family of Josie’s alphas.
“Everything’s right on schedule,” I assure her, pulling out my phone to show her the detailed itinerary I’ve created. “Cake tasting is tomorrow afternoon. We have the sunset cruise right after. The hiking excursion is on Wednesday, and I’ll need to make time for the flower market either before or after that. We’ll have the spa day on Thursday, with the bachelorette party that evening. Rehearsal dinner is Friday night, and you get married the next morning.”
Josie claps her hands together. “Perfection. I already knew you were amazing at this, but it’s even better than I hoped.”
“And don’t worry about your men getting bored,” Josie adds, patting my arm. “Egret has planned some activities for the guys, too. Deep-sea fishing, golf, that sort of thing. I’m not sure what they’re doing for the bachelor party, but it’ll be great. Your pack and mine will have plenty of bonding time.”
I nearly choke on a sip of wine. The thought of my fake alphas spending extended time with Egret, Brendin, and Saren makes my stomach twist into knots. One slip, one inconsistency in our hastily constructed backstory, and the entire charade will collapse.
“That all sounds so great,” I say in a strangled cough, my voice only slightly strained.
Matheo’s hand finds mine under the table again, his thumb tracing soothing circles on my palm. The simple touch grounds me, even as my mind spirals with worst-case scenarios.
How are we possibly going to maintain this pretense for an entire week? Four strangers pretending to be my devoted pack, spending hours with my ex-fiancés and my stepfathers, all of whom have well-honed bullshit detectors. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.
Yet as I feel Matheo’s steady presence beside me, see Cash’s attentive gaze, notice Lucas’s encouraging smile, and even register Kyren’s casual possessiveness, I think that maybe—just maybe—we might pull this off after all.
Though I’m not planning to place any actual money on that bet.
SIXTEEN
LUCAS
I pushCash’s head back, my fingers tangled in his dark hair. His lips are swollen, his eyes glazed over with desire as he stares up at me. The power I feel in this moment—seeing him on his knees, completely surrendered—sends a rush through my veins that nothing else can match.
“You’re perfect,” I whisper, tracing my thumb across his bottom lip. “So fucking perfect for me.”
Cash’s breath hitches. “Lucas?—”
“Shhh.” I press my finger against his mouth. “You know the rules.”
The shower runs in the bathroom, Matheo’s off-key humming barely audible through the door. Somewhere downstairs, Kyren’s entertaining the elderly crowd with his piano skills in the hotel lobby. And Trinity...my chest tightens thinking of her curled up on that couch, refusing to share our bed.
Cash nips at my finger, drawing me back to the moment. “Someone’s distracted,” he murmurs, a challenge in his eyes.
I tighten my grip on his hair, just enough to make him gasp. “And someone’s forgetting who’s in charge.”
His pupils dilate, that beautiful submission washing over him again. This is what we both need—this moment of connection, of certainty in our roles when everything else feels so uncertain.
I guide him forward again. “C’mon, baby. You can take a little more. You’re so good for me.”
Cash moans, the sound louder than he intended. I glance nervously at the door, hoping Trinity’s a heavy sleeper.
“Quiet,” I hiss, though my body betrays my words as I let out a groan that’s anything but subtle.
Cash pulls back, a smirk playing on his lips. “You were saying?”
I can’t help but laugh, pulling him up to crush my mouth against his. We tumble onto the bed, springs creaking beneath us. Cash lands on top, but I quickly flip our positions, pinning his wrists above his head.
“I thought you wanted to be quiet,” he whispers against my neck, his voice carrying a hint of challenge.
“I thought you wanted to follow orders.” I nip at his earlobe, feeling him shudder beneath me.
The mattress protests again as I shift my weight, and we both freeze, listening for any sound from the living room. Nothing.
“This bed is so loud,” Cash mutters. “How are we supposed to make this work?”
