Page 120 of Carved Obsession

“Oh, for god’s sake, play nice.” Scarlet says.

Logically, if I want to keep this woman in my life, starting on the right foot with her family is imperative.

I reach out to him, my hand hanging for a handshake. “Nice to meet you. Carter Pierce.”

He looks between my hand and his sister, lips pursed and shoulders tense, before he finally gives in and shakes it. “Marc Brasa.” He introduces himself without their mother’s last name.

How interesting.

“Congratulations, you’re officially adults,” Scarlet says. “What’s up? Why are you here?”

“Just checking up on you.” He shrugs, walking over to sit on the couch.

She rolls her eyes and turns to the freshly brewed coffee, pulling the cup out and setting it on the side.

“Convenient timing,” she mutters under her breath. “How do you want yours?” she asks me, yet she sounds slightly unsettled.

Instinctively, I reach over and brush my palm up and down her spine. Her smile settles a little further.

“Sorry about this,” she whispers. “So, what coffee do you want?”

“How about you go sit down, and I’ll handle this.”

“Umm—”

I nod, gesturing toward the couch. She takes a slow, deep breath, then agrees, her stance slightly more relaxed as she grabs the cup and heads toward her brother.

“I’m okay, Marc. I know you have . . . concerns, but everything’s fine.”

“I’d rather be the judge of that, if you don’t mind,” he says.

“I do mind, actually,” Scarlet snaps back.

Before her brother can say anything else, another knock rattles the door.

“Fucking shitballs, what now?” she exclaims.

I grab the two espressos I brewed and set them on the table before I take a seat in the high-back armchair by the unlit fireplace.

When Scarlet returns, her father stands tall in the room, the resemblance between him and his children uncanny, though his eyes are green instead of their brown. He’s not a built man, more on the slender, wiry side, but he’s tall, with a lot of white hair sneaking through the same dark-brown as Scarlet’s.

“Carter, just in case you felt like meeting one member of my family was not enough this fine morning, this is my father.” She walks straight to the couch and plops down on it. “I feel like a fucking child,” she sighs.

I rise, walking over to the man who meets me halfway. “Carter Pierce. Nice to meet you, sir.”

His eyes narrow on me. “Arias Brasa. You’ll excuse me for barging in. My wife is on her way too, actually, but I’m sure you can understand why we’re a bit...anxious for Scarlet.”

“Anxious? You’re being rude, Dad!” she protests.

“I understand.” I nod.

I draw up short. This is a completely new situation for me. Unprecedented.

We all sit around the coffee table, sizing each other up. Maybe they thought they could intimidate me. Or that my reputation would be an exaggeration. They can’t, and it isn’t.

“Jeez, y’all are close to having a pissing contest,” Scarlet complains.

“Well, last time you were with Carter, you totaled your car in the middle of a forest and went MIA all night, darling,” her father says.