Page 56 of Fatal Scheme

Rather than worry about pills, the doctor I spoke with offered a lower maintenance option, an IUD insertion, which will protect me from pregnancy for the next eight years, or until I have it removed.

It’s invasive, and a bit strange, considering I’ve never seen an OBGYN before, but this makes the most sense, and Jasper has been gnawing at the invisible bars, more than ready to have the chance to finish inside of me without consequences.

He’s like a rabid dog, ready to tear Tyson’s face off if he even thinks of attempting to be the first, and although it’s barbaric, I love when his need to claim me overtakes his rational thoughts.

It’s fucking primal, the desire that lives within him to mark me whenever he gets the chance, and although it should freak me out, it’s the sexiest fucking thing, being the object of such a strong obsession.

“You’re going to do great, baby girl. I’ve got all the things the doctor said to help with the aftercare and symptoms.” Tyson kisses my cheek, his urge to take the best care of me the sweetest form of affection I’ve ever been shown.

“Don’t spiral while I’m gone, okay?” I take his face in my hands, the exhaustion ever-present on his handsome face as he’s been burning it at both ends, planning for the coup non-stop.

“I’m holding it all together, just for you,” he smiles, the light and happiness illuminating his eyes, allowing me to believe him, and his words.

“We’re going to be late, little miss procrastinator,” Jasper snarks, and I bump my hip into his, laughing as he barely moves a muscle at my greatest attempt.

“Jesus Christ, okay mom. Can I sit in the front, or are you going to strap me into my fucking car seat?” I snap back, never missing an opportunity to push his buttons.

“I’ll bend that tight little ass over my knee if you don’t strut it out that door right now,” he quips, zipping up his jacket before we brave out into the Arctic, the wind chill outside enough to kill me before anyone else gets the chance.

Obviously, I’ve heard how cold it gets on the East Coast, but trying to keep my cover intact as I freeze my way through the first winter I’ve ever experienced is a challenge in itself, the temperature never dropping below a comfortable fifty degrees in California.

I’ve bundled up, a phrase that’s never left my lips until recently, when the forecast literally called for ‘below zero’ conditions. I have no fucking idea why people live here and deal with this every single year, but so far, I feel like I’ve blended in without suspicion, playing off any missteps with the excuse of I’m just a girl.

“Don’t you dare tempt me with a good time, Jasper Masseria,” I tease, using his full name as a way to work him up, even if only for a few minutes.

“I’ll remember you said that, my little temptress of death.” He offers a small wave to Tyson as we walk out the door, the dreariness of the thick clouds already bringing my mood down.

As much as I’ve enjoyed my time at Emory, I’m ready to go home.

I miss the sunshine, the warm rays on my face even on the coldest of days, and it makes sense as to why people are so fucking miserable around here, the lack of vitamin D causing a substantial difference in my moods, too.

The leaves have fallen, the colors dark and dreary now in contrast to the beautiful oranges, reds, and yellows that were just with us a week ago, and although I want to fall into a seasonal based depression, hibernating until the greenery resurfaces, I can’t.

We all have jobs to do, roles to play, and a plan to execute before we can even dream about what’s waiting on the other side.

You can add another lie to the list of ones I’ve told in order to keep my cover, but this one is small, like a fib or a white lie.

This time, I told the boys my appointment was fifteen minutes earlier than it really is, so I can sneak off to call my father without raising any suspicions.

Living with two men who are very in tune with my body, belongings, and habits is a difficult blip to navigate, but luckily, they give me privacy when I ask for it. I was able to shove the one lifeline I have connecting me back home into my tote bag, neither of them clued in to the fact that I smuggled it with me.

Once I check in with the secretary, I locate the bathroom, checking the stalls to ensure I’m alone.

It’s been so long since I’ve heard his voice, or gotten updates on his health, but this call is strictly business, as I don’t have much time.

On the third ring, he picks up, sounding exhausted as he clears his throat.

“Hi, Duchess. Are you okay?” He asks first and foremost, breathing a sigh of relief when I tell him I’m fine.

“Daddy, I have an update for you. Is this a good time? I have to make this quick,” I say, forgoing the usual catching up, speeding through the pleasantries.

“Go ahead, Carter.” He coughs, the beeping monitors in the background overtaking his usually powerful voice.

Rather than break down, or wonder about his condition, I power through, sticking to the script I’ve perfected in my head.

“So, my targets, Masseria and Kelly, they’re trying to force a coup. I think I can turn them, get them on our side and have them run point over here once we make our move,” I say, speaking as if I don’t have emotional attachments, something my father would instantly see as a weakness.

“Absolutely not. The objective was to kill them all, and if they’re willing to turn on their family, who knows what they’d do to us, Duchess,” he replies, the cold tone in his voice indicating that he’s not budging, and I force myself to keep it together, not revealing my cards.