Nicco

Ch. 21: Dream Come True

Ladies who ended up in my bed knew how to play the game. I just happened to play it better. Judge me if you must, but never did I think twice about ghosting anyone. Or using women for pleasure in the same way they eyed my body, my looks, and mia famiglia's money and connections for their own gains.

I have never considered becoming anyone's anything.

Until Aria.

My exchange with Monte confirmed what my heart already knew. Aria is worth fighting for. Worth waiting for.

For weeks, I have tried to look away. To leave her be. It was impossible, though. Her eyes are too mesmerizingly gray, my cock hardens every time she is near, and she possesses the most attractive combination of strength and softness I have ever found in a woman. Her strength challenges me to man the fuck up. Her softness melts my heart. Even though I am still struggling to understand the enigma that is Aria Yue Senarath—my girl is made of secrets, after all—I am beginning to see her, in bits and pieces, for all her complexities and hidden layers.

As our helicopter takes flight, the child-like wonder shining from Aria's face makes each of my painstaking efforts to plan out this evening worthwhile. What I would give to see her like this, happy and carefree, every single day. I am determined to win Aria over. Patiently, steadfastly, like a goddamn duck as Monte advised. No more games in the bedroom. I will treat Aria like a principessa and let her decide whether or not I am worthy of trust. I will wait for her to open up about her past. Her scars. And Jaime. Whoever the fuck he may be.

If need be, I will kill two birds with one stone and strike him down alongside Alvin Beltrán's degenerate of a son.

***

ARIA

This night feels surreal. Nicco and I are flying among the stars. Literally. Never in my wildest dreams would I have expected to go on a date like this one, soaring three hundred feet above the ground while devouring a Michelin-starred meal from takeout boxes.

I take another bite of dinner and close my eyes for a moment, savoring the taste. The food doesn't disappoint. Lobster and langoustine ravioli. Hand-dived scallops with Kristal caviar. Denbighshire venison with butternut squash and kombu. Admittedly, none of these are quite as good as Appa's chicken biriyani, but they come pretty fucking close.

I open my eyes and peer out the window. The view is breathtaking. I can see the entire city below us. Big Ben's rounded face glows like a full moon. Beside the shadowy waters of the Thames, the London Eye shines in a bright red circle. The rest of London is lit up like an ever-expanding, glittering labyrinth. Bridges, buildings, and streets. Everything sparkles and shines against the dark of night.

With stars overhead and city lights below, I've never felt brighter. Here—with Nicco—I feel invincible. Nothing can touch me in the sky. No one can bring me down. Not my nightmares about Maya. Not Jaime. Not my parents. I've escaped everything that torments me. If only for a few hours.

God.

I can't stop smiling.

My gaze flits back inside the helicopter. I survey the luxurious interior. It's surprisingly spacious even with Nicco's big body sidled up next to mine, the plush leather seats are very comfortable, and the ride has been surprisingly smooth. Probably a testament to the pilot's skill. Headsets protect our ears from the noise and allow Nicco and me to speak to each other over the roar of the propellers and the hum of the engine.

This whole time, his green eyes have stayed on me. My chest swells with glee even while my skin grows self-consciously warm. I know it shouldn't matter at all, my inner feminist is quaking at the thought, but it's a powerful feeling to have as a female, knowing that I've somehow captured the undivided attention of a man like Nicco Vitale. It's not about his looks or his money or even his last name, though. It's about the fact that he has caught glimpses of the real me—in all my fucked up glory—and continues to seek out my company, anyway.