Chapter 33 Carter
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.
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.
The second the door closes behind me, I dial back the number, expecting fireworks on the other side of the line, but instead, being met with the calm of a storm I never saw coming.
“Daddy, are you okay?” I ask the second he picks up, the other line barely ringing as he attempts to catch his breath.
“Are you in Manhattan, Duchess?” He says alarmingly, the volume of his voice nearly causing me to go deaf.
“Yes. I’m in a meeting. Why?” I reply, keeping my eyes trained on the door, hoping Jasper and Tyson are too caught up to notice my abrupt absence.
“One of the Corazza men called your uncle because he recognized you. He was West Coast for years, only recently moving East, and he’s been a loyal ally to us for decades,” he explains, and my blood turns to ice, the idea of my operation being over so quickly hitting me like a semi truck.
I’m not ready to be done.
I’m not ready to lose my boys.
I’m damn sure not ready to throw away everything we’ve worked for over the last few weeks, and I’ve already made up my mind to see this through with them until the end.
“Who is he? I can take care of him. This mission isn’t done yet,” I say calmly, attempting to get through to him, but judging by the exasperated sigh coming from his end of the line, I know he’s not going to listen.
“That’s not going to happen. We have an extraction team coming, they’ll be to you within two hours, and I expect you to fully cooperate,” he orders, and I can’t help but roll my eyes, hating that I’m being forced to choose between my boys, or my legacy.
I’ve come to terms with what I’m slated to lose, but this is happening too fast, and in ways that I cannot control.
If I’m not careful, everything is going to fall apart at my feet, which is the exact opposite of how this story should end.
“No. No, extraction. I can handle this, just tell me who called Uncle. I promise, it won’t be messy, and my cover is not blown, yet.
We’re still in a meeting, meaning the guards haven’t spoken with anyone else, but I need to act fast,” I beg, my voice shaking even as I try to stay in character, bringing back the hardened mafia princess I was raised to be.
After a few beats, he clears his throat, coughing as the heart monitors beep in the background, and I’m holding my breath, the seconds passing like minutes while I wait for him to pass down judgement.
“Carter, it’s time to come home. I’ll let you finish this, but in three days we’re moving in, erasing all traces of these families off the map.
You’ll be free to take the Cassini throne, and all of this will be behind you –” A loud knock interrupts our call, and I race to hang up, stashing the contraband back in my purse and fixing my hair and makeup in the mirror.
“Carter? Are you in here?” Jasper yells, fumbling with the door, as I had a little sense to lock it behind me.
“One second!” I call out, stealing one last glance at my phone, a picture coming in that confirms my target.
An idea quickly forms, a way to handle this as quietly as possible, but it’s risky as hell, and could ruin everything I’ve worked so hard for.
You can’t have the life you want without getting a little dirty, but luckily, that’s our specialty.
“Why is the door locked, Principessina? Are you alright?” He asks, a certain nervousness in his voice, but I switch back into girlfriend mode, batting my eyelashes at him as I swing the door open.
“I have a present for you,” I smile, biting my lower lip and kissing his neck, his hands wrapping around my waist.
“We’re in the middle of something, Carter. What the hell have you been doing in here?” He drops his voice low, a fire lit behind his icy silver eyes, but he knows that pretty face doesn’t scare me.
“My idiot bodyguards called. They’ve kept their distance like we asked, but for my safety, they ran facial software on everyone here,” I start, buttering him up before dropping the bomb I created, the one thing that’s going to get me out of this mess unscathed.
“Okay, and?”
“And, they recognized someone from the night I was drugged. They worked up a profile, and he’s a free agent.
Goes where the money is being handed out, so it’s likely that Ellie didn’t know he was involved,” I explain, adding lies on top of lies to the mountainous list that I’ve racked up since I got to Emory.
I promised myself I’d stop, only giving them half-truths, hating how much it hurts to fabricate shit in order to further deceive them, but we’re so close to the end that I can withstand the guilt that’s going to follow this plan I’ve concocted.
“You’re saying someone who took orders from my father is here?” He doubles down, leaning against the door frame as he pulls me by the waist until our bodies are flush.
“Yes, and I’m going to get him for you. Like I said, a present,” I whisper against his neck, trailing my fingers along his collared shirt until I reach his exposed skin.
“You’re my dream girl, Carter,” he groans, tilting my chin until our eyes meet, his pupils blown out with darkness as a sinister smile breaks out across his face.
“Let me take care of you, Jasper. I promise, I’ll make it feel so good,” I tease, slipping my hand around his throat, pressing my thumb into his windpipe ever so slightly, feeling how hard he is against my thigh.
“Fucking hell, Principessina. Can you do it on your own?”
“I’ve managed to pull one or two over on you, haven’t I?” I snark, calling back to the days when I tricked him while he stalked me, or how I sliced his hand open.
I’ve let these boys take care of me, and allowed them to feel like I’m in the palm of their hands, but I’m still the same girl who’s never needed help, and is more than capable of handling her own business.
“Okay, but be careful. I’ll keep them distracted.” He presses a quick kiss to my lips, disappearing around the corner while I take a deep breath, searching for my target.
There’s not much time, but saving us – saving the boys who were once expendable – is the only thing I care about.
Cassini’s, Corazza’s, Masseria’s, and any-fucking-one else be damned.