1
WHERE WAS A PORTAL TO THE UNDERWORLD WHEN A DEMIGODDESS NEEDED ONE?
Addie
Perspiration suctioned Adalyn Whitlock’s once-stylish cocktail dress to her ample curves, and the longer that the horror show played out in front of her, the more sweat that slid down her cleavage.
So. Much. Sweat. Her body spray was seriously being put to the test as a massive cloud of déjà vu hung heavy over her head. This could not be happening again, and yet the screeching alarm assaulting her eardrums told her otherwise.
“Addie!” A familiar voice shouted mutedly. “Addie! Adalyn Whitlock! Snap out of it before I smack you back to reality!”
The panicked tone of Addie’s cousin briefly turned her focus from the nearby inferno and toward the surrounding chaos.
People scurried in all directions, like cockroaches evading a light beam, as they fled for safety. Thick trails of sludgy sugar coated the no-longer immaculate ballroom floor, remnants of the once-lavish dessert table knocked over by a wedding guest during the first mad rush for the exits.
Freaking pillar candles.
She’d warned the bride that the tall—albeit gorgeous—gothic candles she’d wanted adorning the reception hall to give her skin a “romantic glow” weren’t a good idea. Alcohol, open flames, and a bridal party insistent that they could win a professional dance competition didn’t mix.
Ask her how she knew.
But what the bride wanted, the bride got, and now the eight-tier wedding cake with marshmallow frosting and chocolate raspberry ganache filling looked more like an oversized campfire s’more than a confectionary statement piece.
A soon-to-be fully engulfed s’more if the flames got any larger.
Bailey, her cousin—and one-third co-owner of Happily Ever Forever—popped into existence in front of her, their mouth moving with sounds resembling the muffled utterings of the New York City subway.
“Addie!” Bails sandwiched her face between their colorfully ring-bedazzled fingers and dragged her gaze away from the chaos and toward their face. “Pull it together, girl! Don’t lose it on me now! What the fuck are we supposed to do?”
Everything and everyone around Addie slowly stumbled back into focus—colors, sounds. The fire alarm blared, piercing her eardrums.
Addie drop-kicked her mental cobwebs. “Get the fire blanket from my emergency bag.”
Bailey blinked behind their stylish black-framed glasses. “You stashed a fire blanket in the emergency bag?”
“After the last time? Absolutely. Are you really questioning my preparedness right now?” Addie quipped.
“Hope you packed some good luck in with the damn blanket,” Bailey muttered and dashed out of the ballroom to the staff lounge where they’d stashed their gear during this morning’s setup.
Addie rolled her neck and kicked off her heels. She could do this. She’d practically lived through the fire academy when she binge-watched that drama a few months ago, never mind that the real thing would probably send her into cardiac arrest on the first day.
Cardio was not her forte.
Addie ran an assessing gaze over the cake table and cursed. Despite the only nature walk experienced by the young socialite bride was the short foot trek from Central Park to a Park Avenue dress boutique, she’d insisted on a Midsummer Night’s–themed cake complete with nature’s foliage.
A lot of foliage.
Take away the kindling, lessen the flames.
With an actionable plan semiformed, and armed with a handful of water goblets, Addie slowly approached the growing inferno, more sweat rolling between her boobs with every step. Within a foot of her target, her bare left foot slipped on a melted sugar puddle and immediately threw off her balance.
She envisioned ass-planting into the gooey sludge as two strong arms banded around her waist, miraculously keeping her upright as she struggled to find both her feet and her balance.
“Exit is the opposite way, gorgeous.” The deep, sultry voice sent a tingle down her spine—or that could’ve been from their close proximity to the fire. “Let’s get you out of here, yeah? The professionals with fire-retardant suits should be here soon.”
“I can handle it. There’s no need for all of that.”
As if purposefully challenging her words, something sparked on the cake and the damn sparklers ignited, shooting off colorful light streams in all directions.
Her human wall spun—with her in his arms—and put his back to the flames. “You were saying?”
Temper flared higher than the damn cake flames and, primed to give Mr. Sarcasm a piece of her mind, Addie snapped her gaze northbound—because damn, the man was tall. The second her gaze locked on his hazel eyes, her mind temporarily blanked.
Addie had lived in New York City her entire life. There was no shortage of gorgeous individuals, and she’d never been the type to go gaga over a pretty face … but this guy wasn’t pretty.
Or gorgeous.
He was … hum-ina. So gorgeous the only acceptable response was a long, drawn-out hum of appreciation. Humina. Dressed in an open-shirted suit instead of a tux, and with no tie in sight, he looked like a wedding guest.
A closely trimmed beard of light brown scruff covered an otherwise angular, square jaw, and almost hid a left-cheek dimple. Almost. His made-for-kissing lips quirked into a deeper smirk, and that dimple practically said, Hello there. Were your undies already damp and uncomfortable, or are you just happy to see me?
But it was the eyes that should be registered as lethal weapons. A pure mixture of green, blue, and brown, they damn near twinkled not only with mischief, but with an internal glow that—
Strike that.
That glow was a reflection from the now fully engulfed cake table.
Bailey sprinted back into the nearly deserted ballroom, fire blanket in one hand and extinguisher in the other, and gawked at the cake. “Uh, I think we’ll need a bigger blanket.”
“Just stay back.” Addie grabbed the blanket and shot Mr. Sarcasm a hard glare. “And that includes you.”
“I’m no stranger to putting out fires,” Mr. Sarcasm announced.
“Unfortunately, neither am I,” Addie muttered under her breath. “Do you mind?”
She gestured to his arms still locked solidly around her waist, and with a smirk, he relinquished his hold.
Fire blanket in hand, she edged closer to the growing inferno and tossed the fabric over the worst area. Please let this work.
“Here. Let me.” Mr. Sarcasm stepped alongside her with the fire extinguisher he must have snatched from Bailey.
“Wait.” She stepped in front of him, a hand braced on his arm. “The blanket just takes a few seconds to—”
Too late.
Mr. Sarcasm pulled the pin and squeezed. A thick mist of chemical-smelling powder burst from the nozzle, invading both her mouth and nose, and assaulting her outfit, whose once-beautiful midnight-blue color now appeared a muted, wet gray.
Mr. Sarcasm’s mouth dropped open and closed a few times before shooting her a sheepish smile. “Sorry. You kind of got in the line of fire.”
She cocked a single eyebrow. “You think?”
“But look.” He nudged his chin toward the cake table. “The fire is out … and before the indoor sprinklers—”
A click sounded a second before the rain started, and then Mr. Sarcasm’s words melted away along with the extinguisher muck and all of Addie’s dignity. The ballroom door burst open and an army of firemen stormed into the room, all decked out in heavy gear as they spread out and canvassed the room looking for any leftover sparks.
The only ones they’d find were from her career going up in flames.
They’d been inches from crossing the finish line. The mix-up with the flowers had been averted—although narrowly, and thanks to Bailey’s connections in the music world and some quick favor-pulling, the DJ pulling a no-show didn’t dampen the mood on the dance floor. Hell, Addie had even thwarted a boxing match between the bride’s divorced parents, who decided their daughter’s wedding was the perfect opportunity to introduce their brand-spanking-new significant others.
One cake-cutting, a final toast, and a handful of dances had been all that stood between Addie and a much-needed hitch-free wedding event, and it was all thwarted by a damn pillar candle.
“Look at this disaster! Everything. Ruined.” The bride’s mother stepped into the room, her sobbing daughter at her side, both looking as soggy as Addie. The older woman drilled an angry glare toward the man trailing behind them. “Do you see this, Roger? I hope you’re happy now that you completely ruined our daughter’s special day.”
The man’s eyes narrowed, his round face reddening. “Me? What the hell did I do? There’s no way you can pin this shit show on me, Darla.”
“You’re the one who insisted that we have that open bar because … ‘appearances.’” She swung a manicured hand toward the chaos around them. “Now look what happened.”
“If you want to blame someone, look in the mirror. You and Karleigh are the ones that demanded we have those ridiculous candles the size of my damn head.”
“Because they create the perfect romantic ambiance,” the bride interjected.
“Yeah? And how’s that ambiance working for you now, huh?”
The bride sobbed louder, her cries mixing with the shrill alarm.
Addie worked to pull herself together as she muttered to Bailey, “We need to get the bride away from them and find her husband. I’ll take the parental units … unless you want to switch.”
Bailey snorted. “Absolutely not. I paid my dues in preventing them from killing each other during pictures. Good luck.”
Bailey went into cleanup mode, immediately approaching the wilted bride. “Karleigh, why don’t we find that new husband of yours while the firemen finish their job? The last time I saw him, he was by the ice sculpture.”
The bride sniffled and let Bailey wrap her up in their arms. “This isn’t an omen from the gods, right? It doesn’t mean that my marriage is doomed to go up in smoke.”
“Actually, there’s an old saying about fire-blessed nuptials signifying high passion in one’s marriage.”
“Really?” The bride looked up at Bailey hopefully.
“Absolutely! We’re in the happily-ever-forever business. It’s our job to know such facts.”
Addie nearly swallowed her tongue on a snort as her cousin talked straight out of their ass, leaving her alone with the parental units, who were less than three inches from each other, shouting in each other’s faces.
“Excuse me…” Addie cleared her throat, unsuccessful in getting their attention. “If I could just have a moment…”
More hurled insults.
She waved her hand. “Pardon me for just one…”
The couple volleyed accusations back and forth like a badminton birdie, ignoring everyone around them. A professional whistler thanks to years of watching baseball with her father, Addie slipped her fingers into the corners of her mouth and blew.
Loudly.
Everyone stopped. The mother and father of the bride. A handful of nearby firemen and hotel staff. And Mr. Sarcasm, who’d irritatingly stood off to the side, talking to three other guys she hadn’t seen before.
“Not you.” Addie waved the firefighters off and focused on the parents. “I understand this isn’t what you envisioned for your daughter’s special day, but I need the two of you to pull it together. No one could’ve foreseen this—open bar and pillar candles or not.”
The mother scoffed, looking down her nose at Addie. “Actually, I worried something like this would happen, which is why I told Karleigh I’d be willing to eat the contract cancellation fees if she wanted to go with another event planner. Tell me, Ms. Whitlock, your last how many weddings had ‘unforeseen’ circumstances?”
Truthfully, she didn’t know. The last six. Maybe eight.
She’d hoped this one would start a fresh without-a-hitch streak, but nope. Back to square one. Or negative one billion.
Addie smiled and affected her best customer service voice. “Again, unforeseen circumstances happen, and when they do, the only thing in your control is your reaction to them.”
“I think I’m reacting justly to the fact that the biggest day of my baby’s life has been ruined. The trauma. The humiliation.”
“Okay, but let’s look on the brighter side of things.” Addie summoned her patience. “The ceremony was absolutely gorgeous, and your daughter married the love of her life.”
The father scoffed. “The kid’s a dipshit. I already slipped the name of my divorce attorney into Karleigh’s purse during the first dance.”
The ex-wife snapped her gaze to her ex. “Your divorce attorney? Roger, you didn’t!”
Addie interjected, “If we could—”
“Hell yeah, I did,” the father added.
“Please, let’s just—”
“There is no way Karleigh will be using your attorney.” The mother of the bride rolled her eyes. “Your lawyer couldn’t find his way through divorce proceedings with a flashlight and a Law for Dummies textbook in his hands. No, she’ll use my lawyer … the one who actually knows what they’re doing.”
“Oh, the one that you’re fucking? Is that what you mean?”
Addie slowly watched what little handle she had on the situation melt away. The only saving grace was that things couldn’t possibly get any worse.
Bailey, nervously biting their lower lip, burst around the corner. “Don’t freak out. But we may have a problem.”
“Gee. You think?” Addie flailed her hands toward the remaining firefighters currently searching for a suspected second fire.
Bailey grimaced. “Okay, yeah. This is bad, but I’m talking about one that is currently wearing a facial expression most often used by our cousins.”
Addie froze, dropping her voice as she pulled Bails farther away from the still-arguing parents. “Which cousins?”
“Miss Whitlock.” Addie’s name, said in a terse, furious tone, answered her own question before she even turned.
The hotel manager stormed their way, smoke spewing from her ears that had nothing to do with the fire. Pure fury. So much that Addie sent a brief glance around the room, making sure that her Fury cousins hadn’t made a cameo.
“Tina. Hey, I’m so sorry about—”
The manager waved off her apology. “I probably don’t need to tell you this, but I just want to make myself perfectly clear. Happily Ever Forever will never do another wedding here at the Golden Crown. N.E.V.E.R.”
Bailey grinned anxiously. “So what you’re saying is that you’re up for negotiations?”
The manager shot them a hard glare.
Where was a portal to the Underworld when a demigoddess needed one?
2NIPPLE PIERCINGS FOR THE WIN!
Addie
Multiple hours, two buses, and an overcrowded subway train later, Addie finally stood outside her Brooklyn apartment. The lock temporarily held her key hostage and she jimmied it harder, cursing with each attempted turn. On the other side of the door, Do-Re-Mi barked knowingly, losing their fool heads over their impending treats.
“I’m trying, guys. I’m trying.”
Another finger-bruising twist, and the lock finally disengaged. Addie opened the door an inch and Do stuck his snout against the crack, his nostrils flaring as his big body blocked her way. “I can’t get inside unless you three move back, and if I don’t get inside, guess who doesn’t get their evening treat?”
Do barked once, followed by Re, and they stepped back, allowing Addie to enter. All big ears and drooling tongues, Do-Re-Mi jumped up, large fuzzy paws easily landing on her shoulders as they licked her from all angles.
Coming from one of Cerberus’s latest litters, Do-Re-Mi looked like a slightly larger cross between a German shepherd and a black Lab—except for the three heads and the fuzzy snakelike tail. Each pup had their own personality, but one thing shared was their love of bacon treats.
Who could blame them? Bacon was life.
They scarfed their treats in record time and then demanded a quick potty break. In all reality, they could blink out of the apartment and do their business whenever they wanted, a product of being from the Underworld, but the neighbors tended to get antsy when an unsupervised three-headed dog ran about the block chasing pigeons.
Now both fed and pottied, the trio fought good-naturedly over their rawhide bone and curled up on their favorite side of the couch as Addie beelined for the bathroom.
She needed nothing more than to watch the memories of the day—and the fire-extinguisher chemicals still on her skin—swirl down her bathtub drain.
As the tub filled with hot water, she searched for her new bath bombs. Her phone, sitting on the sink ledge, erupted into a Darth Vader ringtone that made her grin.
“Hey, Pop.” Addie yanked her favorite lavender bath bomb out from the cabinet and tossed it into the rising water.
“Hey, cupcake. How did the big wedding go?”
“Oh, you know … same old, same old. Flowers were sniffed, vows were exchanged … and then fire sprinklers were set off, the NYFD busted in with their big hoses, and HEF was banned from yet another hotel.”
“I’m not even sure if you’re pulling my leg right now or if you’re being serious.”
“I couldn’t find a joke right now if I pulled a joke book off the shelf and read it cover to cover.”
She could practically see her father’s wince over the phone. “That bad?”
“Bad would be an improvement. So would horrendous. Atrociously horrendous would barely be on the right track. Maybe the Fates are trying to tell me something.”
Copyright © 2026 by April Schwartz