Page 74 of Fatal Scheme

Jasper and I exchange a glance, smirking as we mock him behind his back, our ability to play around even under the most tense circumstances never wavering.

Tyson means well, and I appreciate his dedication, but it’s just as easy to poke fun at him, too.

“You purposely wore that dress to torture me, didn’t you, my little temptress of death?” Jasper asks, his hand roaming down my bare spine, around the curve of my hip, and dipping lower with each second.

Never one to be modest, I packed a dress that sits mid-thigh – just long enough to conceal my sheath – that is completely backless, with thin sparkly trim outlining my shoulders, and ass.

It fits like a glove, detailing every curve on my body, the plunging neckline studded with the sparkling decal, as well. I paired the edgy outfit with simple four inch heels – a direct move that keeps me shorter than all the men around me – that lace up to my calves, tied off with sparkly bows.

“I’m only alive to torture you,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to his cheek as we follow Tyson into the restaurant, it having been cleared out solely for our arrival.

Three men greet us at the door, patting us down as we enter, noting that we have weapons, but declining to confiscate them.

In this world, we’re always carrying, but I’m sure the Corazza’s want an inventory of what we have, just in case things get heated.

My clutch is also checked, my tiny knives left alone, and the man doesn’t dig into the extra pocket where the satellite phone is stashed.

I’ve taken a huge risk, bringing it with me to New York and carrying it on my person, but my father could call this mission off at any second, and I need to be within reach of that phone.

“Mr. and Mrs. Corazza are waiting, right this way,” one guard says, leading us toward the back of the room, the dim candle lighting making this feel less like business, and more of an intimate date.

I’m hardly able to see in front of me, but that was done purposely, ensuring all parties feel comfortable under a somewhat cloak of anonymity.

“Jasper, Tyson, nice to finally meet you in person,” Corazza stands, buttoning his suit jacket as he holds his palm out, shaking hands with both men before gesturing toward me to sit. “Ms. Cassina, this is my wife, Allie.”

“Nice to meet you both,” I say, nodding as I take my seat, the men following suit as we all take in our surroundings.

Rocco and his wife look like an average couple, a happily married united front, with no dead giveaways that they run a crime family.

The same could be said about the three of us on the opposite side of the table, but my boys certainly look the part, whereas Rocco could blend in with a crowd, never raising an eyebrow to his true identity.

“Carter, can I offer you some wine?” Allie asks, a genuine smile on her face as she holds the bottle toward me, motioning toward my glass.

“Please, I’d love some,” I say, watching as she pours with a heavy hand, nearly emptying the bottle between our two glasses.

“So, gentlemen, shall we get right into why we’re all here, or would you prefer to make small talk over appetizers?” Rocco clears his throat, asserting dominance by speaking first, but Tyson doesn’t back down, or seem phased in the slightest.

“We want to destroy the Ricci’s, something your family knows and has done in the past, but our best chance to achieve that goal is with your help,” he says confidently, folding his hands on the table, not skipping a beat.

“As I’ve stated before, we’re not interested in joining a war. However, I thought you mentioned something more … sinister was happening behind the scenes, Masseria?” Rocco turns his attention to Jasper, all eyes on him, turning this into his make or break moment.

Time feels like it stands still, everything we’ve wanted from this meeting coming to light within the first five minutes, and as I wait for Jasper to present his case, I hold my breath, hoping that this doesn’t fall apart at our feet.

Suddenly, the phone vibrates, my purse buzzing against my thigh, and I casually look around the table, hoping nobody notices in the otherwise silent room.

The buzzes stop for a quick second, but immediately start up again, signaling that this is important.

Two calls back to back indicate a serious matter, but when the vibrating starts for a third time, I know it’s an emergency, and I have to sneak away as soon as possible.

It’s my fathers way of sending a silent SOS, meaning one of two things: his life is in danger, or I am in danger.

There’s no way he can track my location on this decade-old satellite phone, the decrepit device acting as a time machine in terms of technology, so I know this is real, and whatever the threat is, it’s happening now.

“I’m so sorry, do you have a restroom?” I interrupt, cutting off Jasper’s grand pitch as all eyes fall on me, the SOS coming at the worst fucking time.

“Down the hall, make a right,” Allie says, her voice low as she sidesteps the boys’ conversation, appeasing to me as if I’m just a prop for their dealings, as if I’m just like her.

Luckily, my boys are too wrapped up in their dealings to notice, which is fucking rare, but I take the opportunity, practically running to the closest bathroom so I can decipher the sky is falling code my father is sending.