Page 39 of Fatal Scheme

I’ve never had to meet somebody’s parents, not even friends, because everyone I knew growing up was in the Family, so this is uncharted territory for me, and I’ll admit, my stomach is in my throat.

Jasper laces his fingers through mine, keeping his vow to get us through this together, but this taste of luxury isn’t something I’m used to, either.

Their house is enormous, the white three-story cape towering over us as we walk toward the navy blue painted door.

Even the gardening is pristine, bright colored flowers lining the brick, with neatly trimmed bushes and hedges filling in the space.

If meeting Jasper’s family wasn’t enough, their house is probably even more beautiful on the inside, and I'm nearly sweating at the thought, it feeling like an overkill form of intimidation.

Before I can even take a breath, Mrs. Masseria emerges from the house like it’s on fire, her eyes immediately landing on me.

As I take in her stunning features, I realize how strikingly beautiful she is, Jasper clearly resembling his mother, all the way down to their icy-silver eye color. Her hair is dark, pin-straight, and even though she’s wearing minimal makeup, she doesn’t look a day over thirty.

“Um, hi. I’m Carter.” I manage to squeak out, mentally scolding myself for being such a loser and letting my nerves steal the confidence I normally ooze.

With that, she grabs me by the arm, dragging me like a puppy through the door, and I brace myself for what the rest of this evening is going to hold, mentally preparing for the girl talk I’m going to endure.

Just as I suspected, the inside is just as glamorous as the outside, carefully picked decorations hanging on the walls, along with family photos that litter through the entryway.

Every wall is painted stark white, while the accent color is a humble shade of blue, matching the door and shutters out front. The scent of food and lemons fill the air, while the large bay windows offer an abundance of light, and I can only look around in awe.

This home looks like it belongs in a magazine, or featured in a movie that boasts an extravagant mansion.

“Carter, can I get you a glass of wine?” Mrs. Masseria asks, breaking my trance as she stands beside a cabinet that contains rows of expensive looking bottles.

“I’ll try your favorite red,” I smile, following the exact script Jasper fed me, and she nearly beams with excitement, causing me to thank my lucky stars.

“Oh, this merlot is to die for. So, tell me everything about you and my son, I’m dying over here! You go to Emory, too, right?”

“Yes, I just transferred this year. It’s a lovely school, I’m really enjoying the classes so far,” I answer politely, and she reads right through me, not buying my nice girl act.

Her eyebrow is kinked so high on her forehead I’m afraid it may recede into her hairline, and I concede, nodding as she passes me a tall glass, nearly filled to the top with dark red wine.

“Fine, okay. Jasper stalked me for the first few weeks of school, and um, I threatened to kill him a few times,” I start, and she laughs, gesturing me to take a seat at the bar in the middle of the kitchen.

“Now that sounds like Junior. He’s a little rough around the edges, but once you find that soft center, he’s nothing but a sweetheart. Well, don’t leave me hanging!” She encourages me to keep going, taking a big sip of her wine and motioning her hand to get me to talk.

“It’s like you said, he has a soft side. Once I saw that, I was a goner,” I laugh, not sure how much his mother knows about the darkness that lives inside of him, opting to leave out some of the crazier shit he did before we connected.

“Mom, will you stop interrogating her? No matter what she says, I was a perfect gentleman, courting her with roses and chocolates just like you taught me.” Jasper sneaks up behind us, placing a quick kiss on her cheek and wrapping an arm around my shoulder, his smile as big as a kid on Christmas.

“Really? Where was I when you swept me off my own feet with such romance?” I tease, lacing my fingers through his, effectively trapping him against the back of my chair.

In the distance, I hear shrieking, followed by bickering, and judging by everyone’s faces, it must be Jasper’s younger sisters.

Sure enough, a few moments later they explode into the kitchen, both of them clinging to a sweater as they stomp right up to their mother.

“Mom! Tell this thief that this is mine,” one of the girls whines, and in an instant, the argument is happening quite literally in my ear.

“Yours is blue. Mine is this one, the fucking purple one!” Another voice booms, the growing volume enough to rattle my bones.

“Come on, Principessina, let me give you the full tour,” Jasper says loudly, attempting to be heard over the yelling.

He snatches me off the stool, his hand snaking around my wine glass, effectively rescuing me from the cat fight I was caught dead in the middle of.

My head is spinning already and we’ve only been here for a half an hour, but if this is any indication how the rest of the evening will go, I’m afraid of what’s to come.

“Your fucking sisters?” I repeat his words from earlier as we slip down the hallway, more family photos lining the walls, and I’d stop to admire them, but something tells me Jasper is on a different mission with the way he hasn’t released my wrist from his grip.