Page 10 of Fatal Scheme

This is life we were born into, and even though I hate every second of it, I know that getting out would be worse than a death sentence.

The Masseria Family is a lifelong commitment, especially if you were bred into the madness, something I know all too well.

FOUR

CARTER

You’d think I’d be thrilled that my prey has literally come to me, offering themselves up on a silver platter, but the hunter in me is annoyed, especially because of how fucking alluring these two men are.

Every time I talk to Tyson, my panties melt into a puddle, solely because of how goddamn charming he is, and how easily he gets me worked up in all the wrong ways.

Whenever my guards report that Jasper has been watching me, I feel a thrill run through my veins at the idea, hoping that one night I do catch a glimpse of him, if only to tease him beyond his breaking point.

The files I studied couldn’t have prepared me for how deliciously sexy they both are, but now that I’ve been close enough to breathe the same air as them, this game of cat and mouse is becoming exactly the kind of thing that I crave.

Do I want to be caught by one of them? Maybe, just to see how long the other would last before we strip our clothes off, because even though I’m playing hard to get, I’m positive that I’d lose in a heartbeat.

Today, I’m dressing to tease, hoping that one of my stalkers finds himself caught in my trap, even though they have no clue that I’ve been studying them longer, and have the upper hand in every aspect.

Jasper is like a dog with a bone, and I’m positive that he tried – and failed – to Google me, likely becoming frustrated at how much of a ghost I am online.

It was designed that way, to keep my cover, but he doesn’t seem like the type to trust easily, which is why all of his attention is solely locked on decoding me.

Tyson, on the other hand, is more innocent, like he’s doing in-person recon, but not because he was told. He’s looking after his friend, and at the same time, falling further into my trap the more time we spend together.

With one last glance in the mirror, I fluff my curls, pinning two bows in my half up pig-tails, choosing black to match my outfit, of course.

I’m wearing a black and white checkered flannel, covering up my lacy tanktop as the air is getting colder, something I wish I complained about more to my dad, because fuck this New Jersey weather. I dug out my fishnets for the occasion, layering a pair of jean shorts over them, and tying the outfit off with my boots that never fail me.

In true fashion, my blade is securely in my tote bag, along with a smaller one, and the lipstick knife I carry in my pocket, just in case.

A girl can never be too careful, especially when dealing with two ruthless mafia boys.

I quickly paint a dark red matte on my lips, smacking them in the mirror for good measure before deeming my outfit absolutely murderous, and stepping out to make myself a coffee.

“Jesus Christ, Bad Witch! You look so hot,” Ellie says from the breakfast bar, munching on a bowl of fresh fruit while she gives me two eager thumbs up of approval.

At first, she got on my nerves, but after a few wine nights we’ve become friends, at least making this place less lonely as I work to finish my mission.

She’s not my type in the slightest, but I enjoy her otherworldly perspective, having never been around a girl like her before, and her innocence has planted new seeds of humanity in my soul.

I’ve opened my heart, if only slightly, creating a soft spot for her, so when I take in her completely exhausted demeanor, sweatpants, and messy hair, I actually am shocked at the lack of perfection regarding her appearance.

“What’s the matter, Ellie?” I ask, dumping cream into my to-go coffee mug.

“A day off from classes, actually,” she smiles, and I put my claws away, thankful that nobody messed with her without my knowledge.

“I’ll see you tonight!” I call out, practically running through the door as I try to keep up my ruse as a normal college girl, who today, is running late.

Completely ignoring Jasper’s car parked at the end of our block, I strut down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete as I pretend he doesn’t exist.

I’ve learned that he likes when I play along with his games, but today, I’m purposely driving him wild by not provoking the beast with a flip of my middle finger, and it’s exactly what will force him into my face later.

The benefits of gaining my own stalker – one I was planning to recon from further away – is that I’m able to pick up on his habits, mannerisms, and of course, what makes him tick.

Unfortunately, I don’t have business economics with Tyson today, but he takes a different class right down the hall from me – the reason for my hustle – and I know he won’t walk in before seeing me enter my own lecture hall first.

It’s a sick, twisted, and likely dangerous routine I’ve found myself in, but I thrive off of things that get my blood pumping, the risk always my favorite part of playing games.