Hunter - Blaire Drake Page 0,84

Mamma,” I give in. I bend and kiss her rosy cheek.

“Don't try and butter me up with your cooty kisses, Hunter.”

“Aw, come on, you know I'm only mean to you sometimes because I love you, Principessa.”

She pouts again, then relents. “I know. I love you, too, Cacciatore. When you don't pretend to throw bugs at me.”

***

Last night was filled of memories of what was—the good kind. If you could count endless childhood memories disguised as dreams.

Bugs. Ice cream. Jello. Dinner. Dances. Everything up until she was ripped out of my life.

I pulled into the motel parking lot just outside of Chicago and looked over at Adriana. She'd been asleep for the last couple of hours, so I nudged her awake gently. “Addy? We're here.”

She jerked awake and looked at me with sleep in her eyes. “We are? Wow. That was quick.”

“Sure.” I smirked and killed the engine. If ten hours was fucking quick—five of which she was driving for.

“Shut up.” She batted at me and reached for the car door, then paused. “Crap.” She leaned back, grabbed the bag with the ring box in it, and sat back right. I watched with thinly-veiled amusement as she pulled out the box and slipped the ring onto her finger.

She looked like she'd stepped in dog shit.

“And here go the happy couple,” I said under my breath as we go out.

She glared at me before I grabbed the bags and wrapped my arm around her waist. I didn't know how she could be so mad at me personally. I kept giving her great orgasms, yet pretending to be married to me was hell.

Honestly. You couldn't make this shit up.

We entered the reception building and waited behind a couple that certainly didn't look like they were newlyweds—even pretend ones. They looked closer to hooker and friend.

“Mr and Mrs. Conti,” Adriana said, plastering a fake smile on her face. “We have a room reservation tonight.”

The girl behind the counter blew a bubble with her gum and then snapped it with her tongue. “Room 316,” she said in a droll tone. She swiped a card. “Here's your key. Go out of this building and the second block on the left. First floor.”

“Is there parking?”

“Yep. Drive left and it's the second block. Parking outside.”

“Thanks,” I replied, taking the key. “Come on, honey.”

The door slammed behind her and Adriana elbowed me. “Honey? Fucking honey?”

“Isn't that what married people call each other?”

“I don't know. I've never been fucking married,” she hissed, getting in the car.

I dumped the bags on her lap and slammed the door. She was in a bad mood—note to self... Don't wake Adriana Romano up. Ever. Even from a nap in the car.

I drove the two minutes to the 'second block on the left' and pulled into an empty space. I knew Gemma wanted us to fly under the radar, but fuck me. There was flying under the radar and then there was preferably sleeping on the streets.

This place looked awful.

“Uh...” Adriana said, staring out of the window. “I'm not a snob, but this is the best she could find?”

“Well... it might not be so bad inside.” I was being optimistic, and she knew it. But, hey. Optimism was good.

“Mmm,” was her only response before she got out of the car. She was already fumbling with the band on her left finger, and she removed it easier than she had last night.

She had been practicing that in the car before she fell asleep, after all.

She took the key from my hand and then looked at the rusted sign that showed which floor the rooms were on. “First floor,” she said, turning around to me.

She screwed up her face as she said it, like it was the most disgusting thing she'd heard in her life. I'd seen this expression before—this unimpressed, horrified whisper over her features.

She was many things right now—including frustrated, angry, and annoyed as all get out, but tolerant didn't seem to be one of them.

“It's just for one night. We can leave early. Before sunrise. We just need to sleep,” I reasoned with her, touching my hand to the small of her back.

She stepped away from me, a displeasured noise escaping her pursed lips. She grabbed a bag from me and took off toward the metal stairs that climbed the side wall of the building. The dim lights that lit the pathway to them flickered, almost ominously, and I swore I saw her stick her middle finger up at them.

Yep. The Princess attitude was