Page 73 of Fatal Scheme

“This place is fucking beautiful,” she breathes, walking straight to the bedroom, flopping onto quite literally the largest mattress I’ve ever seen.

“Come on, Principessina, let’s get you a little more comfortable,” I tease, tugging at her leggings while she squirms beneath my grasp.

“Jasper! I have to get ready, we don’t have much time,” she giggles, but I overpower her, stripping the fabric off her body, tossing them into a pile on the floor, followed by her panties.

“You look perfect like this,” I breathe, kissing my way up her thighs, nipping at her skin while she claws the sheets, the fight in her never ceasing.

“I cannot go to one of the nicest restaurants in Manhattan naked,” she whimpers, her breaths hitched as I tease her clit with one finger, giving her much less than I know she can take.

“Massi. Leave her to get ready, this meeting is important,” Tyson’s loud voice booms, this specific brand of bossy beginning to get on my nerves.

“Oh, come on. A little dessert before dinner never hurt anyone,” I groan, but he stalks toward the bathroom, turning the water on, his way of telling me to back off.

“You’re in for it tonight,” I whisper against her clit, looking up at her from between her legs, watching as she bites her lower lip in response.

“Now. Carter,” Tyson orders, and she contemplates misbehaving with me, but chooses to obey instead, hauling ass off the bed in record time.

“No need to be such a party pooper, Ty. This meeting is important to all of us.” I adjust the raging hard-on in my sweats, pulling my suit out of the garment bag delivered to our suite.

“Trust me, what I have planned for tonight, you’ll want to wait. Fucking get dressed, we’re leaving in thirty,” he says, the no-bullshit tone in his voice forcing me to comply, almost like I’m under his thumb just as much as Carter is.

He does have a point, though, so I put on my best business face, knowing that this dinner decides our fate, puts the future into our own hands, and will be the deciding factor in how we take down my father, for good.

If this doesn’t pan out, we’re out of options, forced to fight alone, and that dark, grim reality is a place I want nothing to do with.

It’s the three of us, putting on a united front, but with the two best people in my corner, I don’t think I could ever lose.

THIRTY-THREE

CARTER

A girl could seriously get used to this.

Not only are we rolling through the greatest city in the world dripping with luxury, but I’m sandwiched in between two of the hottest fucking men on the planet, and they’re quite literally suited Gods.

Tyson is wearing a navy blue suit, a white button up, and a solid blue tie, the fabric clinging to his skin like it was tailored to highlight every muscle in his body.

It’s so tight, he’s nearly bursting out of the seams, and every piece of silver jewelry shimmers in the light.

He’s gone all out, decking his fingers with rings, his wrists with bracelets and a watch, plus the two diamond chains around his neck.

He left his hair messy, the longer strands framing his face, which has completely hardened since we left the suite, and I’ve learned that when he’s in business mode, there’s no breaking his focus.

To my left, Jasper is dressed similarly, in an all black ensemble, with the sleeves of his button-up rolled to the elbows, forgoing a jacket altogether.

His tattoos are on full display, the ink I’ve studied endlessly standing out against his tan skin, and he’s left the tie hanging loosely around his neck, the top buttons of his shirt purposely undone.

They’re polar opposites, in complete contrast of one another, but fuck, one glimpse at them soaks my panties like a goddamn waterfall.

As we walk the bustling streets of Manhattan, the sun is beginning to set behind the skyscrapers, the orange rays reflecting off the buildings to create a mirroring effect as Mother Nature paints a beautiful picture of the sky.

I can’t help but stare in awe, even as Jasper refuses to let go of my hand, and Tyson walks two steps ahead of us, like a beefed up security guard.

The three of us are heavily protected, and my blade is strapped to my thigh, concealed under my dress.

My boys have two guns, one in their waistbands, a drop gun latched to their ankles, and although you can never feel too safe, right now, I’m untouchable.

“The restaurant is right up here on the left, two blocks away,” Tyson recites, his dedication to our mission, and safety, admirable.