Page 33 of Fatal Fantasy

“Say it,” I challenge, digging into the bag of goodies I bought from a local hardware store, slowly revealing the ropes, tape, and various tools used for torture that she’s very familiar with.

Her eyes follow my every move, a rapid rise and fall of her chest beginning while I lay each one on the tiny table in the center of the room.

“Butterfly.”

“Good girl,” I smirk, using her weakness for praise to shove her further toward the edge of pleasure, acceptance, and comfortability in her own skin.

In a fleeting second, I catch the sparkle dancing across her baby blue irises, paired with a slight clench of her thighs as she trails her fingers across the rope, nothing but mischief radiating from her body.

“Tie me up, boys.” She spreads her arms wide, spinning in a circle while we exchange a glance from opposite sides of the room.

Massi looks concerned, almost green with worry as he watches Carter fall into old habits, but I don’t share his apprehension, wanting nothing more than to lure the blood-thirsty demon out to play.

While she may not look the part, still covering her scars and hiding her shame, I have a strong feeling, a blind hopefulness, that soon enough, dancing alongside the darkness will be exactly what brings the light back into her eyes.

We’re up against the tallest of tasks, the most fearful of men, but if Carter can let her beasts out to play in the wreckage, she’ll make what happened in Manhattan look like a freaking picnic, and come out on top of the world – exactly where she belongs.

FIFTEEN

JASPER

My brother is lucky that I love him.

If this was anyone else, or any other circumstance, I’d be pushing back on this ludicrous plan, fighting tooth and nail to protect what’s mine, but if Carter says she can handle this, I have to trust her intuition.

Something in her has shifted since last night, maybe our kiss and honest confessions being the driving force, but I love nothing more than watching her get riled up.

Of course, I’m keeping a close eye on her facial expressions, body language, and reactive behaviors, but so far, she’s proven that when given a mission, she doesn’t stop until it’s complete.

“That’s too tight, Ty.” I point out, noting a red ring of rope burn around her forearm where he’s tying another knot.

Currently, we’re gearing up for a photoshoot, faking a kidnapping for the ages that Tyson believes is the key to Carter’s freedom.

I’m not as convinced, but playing along as he ties her up, pinning her arms behind her back and binding her ankles together. She squirms under the rope, but a quick glance in my direction tells the full story, her way of telling me to relax, without using words.

As hard as it is, I’m doing everything in my power to assist by setting the scene, leaving small droplets of information – albeit false – that will end up in the photographs sent to the Cassini Don.

“We need to put this back on for the proof of life video,” Tyson says, pulling the engagement ring from his pocket, and Carter’s face slightly deflates at the sight, her visible disgust making my stomach turn.

“For the last time,” she whispers, and we both nod in response, Ty slipping it on her finger with tenderness.

“Everything is in place. The takeout menus are carefully lined on the table, next to the address you had me write down. I left a map of deceit just like you asked,” I tell Tyson, and instead of checking my work, he just takes my word for it.

Everything about him since getting Carter back has been uncharacteristic, his anger showing at times where I’d usually expect his nurturing side, but I can only chalk that up to the amount of pressure we’re under to get it right this time.

Life doesn’t always give second chances, but we’re lucky enough to have this opportunity, and there’s nothing left to do but take what has been graced upon us.

Nothing is more important than getting Carter out safely, as well as staying as whole as possible, so if we need to do a few things that are uncomfortable, I’m going to play along with little to no complaints.

“Are you okay, Principessina?” I ask, the sounds of her heavy breathing and the camera clicking the only thing echoing off these walls.

“I’m fine, Jasper,” she smiles weakly, the tears welling in her eyes, but I know she’s conjuring a character, attempting to make the fear look real.

“All that’s left is the video, and then we’ll get you out of this, okay?” Tyson kisses her cheek, stroking her hair while she nods, a trusting look in her eye that warms my heart.

They shared a moment of their own this morning, a push toward healing, and rather than interrupt the time they needed all to themselves, I gave them the space to work out the damaged pieces of their own relationship.

It’s the least I could do, but hearing her attempt to go into the water, to face that newfound fear, only furthered my dedication to this plan.