PANDORA'S BOX
you're exciting, boy come find me,
your eyes told me, 'girl come ride me'.
⠀⠀ 𝓛EGENDS SPEAK OF Gods sailing across the heavens in golden chariots drawn by winged stallions, draped in silken robes and glittering crowns. They tell stories of extraordinary romance — Eros and Psyche, Orpheus and Eurydice, Hades and Persephone — of mortals hit by Cupid with his swift—flying arrows, and the fantasy of love at first sight.
⠀⠀Aria DeAngelis has never been one to believe in fairytales.
⠀⠀She steps out of a sleek black limousine, stride unwavering even in her five—inch stiletto heels. She doesn't need to think about smoothing over her dress or running a hand through her hair; every stitch, every strand is accounted for and holds its place, as if commanded by some unfathomable spell.
⠀⠀Her senses are instantly drowned in the buzz of downtown LA. Bystanders stand with slack—jawed stares and paparazzi tread over one another's toes in an attempt to capture a living, breathing dream as she stands before them in all her glory.
⠀⠀Next to slide out of the vehicle is Nicolas Saint-Clair, sporting a striped button up over a pair of beige slacks, with buttery soft Italian loafers against the pavement and his silky blond hair lightly tousled in the warm breeze.
⠀⠀He curls a strong arm around his best friend's waist, and the two wordlessly stride toward the entrance.
⠀⠀The fresh—faced Hollywood dream and the prince of Wall Street; a perfect image of America's favourite pair of old-money elites.
⠀⠀Aria's face is set stoically forward, simply drinking in the blinding flashes and persistent calls of her name as opposed to paying them the luxury of her acknowledgement. She keeps herself cold enough to make it known they haven't a fleeting chance at her attention, but close enough to make them think that — if the odds were in their favour — maybe, just maybe, they could.
⠀⠀Spoiler alert: they most definitely couldn't.
⠀⠀Because everyone knows that if it were between the wills of anybody and the Hollywood dream, the universe certainly wouldn't be working in their favour.
⠀⠀Nico, on the other hand, holds a charming sparkle in his ice—blue eyes and wears his trademark boyish grin as he tips his head toward the crowd in polite acknowledgment. Equally as irresistible, only fathomable; like a fallen angel amongst men.
⠀⠀The bouncer situated at the front of the venue greets the young pair with a firm nod. He need not spare a single glance toward the guestlist in his pocket before immediately ushering them through the glass double doors and, at last, into the party.
⠀⠀Aria allows a small smile to ghost her lips as her eyes adjust to the dim lighting.
⠀⠀The nightclub is packed with A—List faces, from rappers and actors to supermodels and athletes — most notably, an abundance of basketball players. Flashy strobe lights cut through the artificial mist of the fog machines to illuminate the space, where everyone is either pressed against one another on the dance floor, lounging atop the velvet upholstery dotted around the room, or ordering rounds of far—too—overpriced cocktails at the bar.
⠀⠀"Goddamn." Nico murmurs breathlessly.
⠀⠀Aria nods in agreement as her eyes continue to scan the familiar faces before them, "Not bad."
⠀⠀She's not entirely sure whether she was referring to the party, or the men inside it.
⠀⠀Most probably the latter.
⠀⠀Nico's nose instinctively scrunches upon laying his eyes on a couple who are much too close for public comfort against the far wall of the nightclub. He mutters some unintelligible French phrase under his breath.
⠀⠀Aria's been around him long enough to know it meant something along the lines of, 'Fuckin' Americans'.
⠀⠀"Welcome to LA, my dear Nicolas." She chuckles dryly, gesturing around the room.
⠀⠀"Please stop calling me that." He rolls his eyes, "You sound like my mother — and we both know that's not a compliment."
⠀⠀"Harsh." Aria's lips curl into a distasteful frown at the mention of that heartless, money—lusting excuse of a woman. She reverts to using his usual namesake, "What's the move for tonight then, Nico?"
⠀⠀He simply shrugs, "Your call, Ri."
⠀⠀He almost immediately regrets his words as soon as he spots the mischievous glint in her eyes.
⠀⠀"Wait, n-"
⠀⠀Aria cuts him off with a firm grip on the wrist, pulling him through the crowd before he's able to even think about protesting, "To the bar we go!"
⠀⠀Nico lets out a disgruntled huff as he's dragged across the room, "You're underage, Ri."
⠀⠀Aria opens her mouth to respond.
⠀⠀"And batshit crazy if you think I'm gonna get drinks for you all night."
⠀⠀Her lips promptly shut.
⠀⠀Nico's brow raises, an amused smirk forming on his face as he watches her falter — it isn't everyday he sees himself besting the girl who sits on top of the world.
⠀⠀Alas, he forgets that being on top of the world comes with its perks; something that Aria is very well aware of.
⠀⠀She tosses her hair over her shoulder with a shrug.
⠀⠀"There's nothing a little persuasion can't fix."
━━━
⠀⠀Surely enough, Aria's 'persuasion' — or, rather, the sparing compliments, light giggles and compelling eye contact she graced the bartender with — lands her with a round of tequila shots on the house.
⠀⠀He'd even gone as far as to slip his phone number beneath the lime wedge nestled by the shot glasses.
⠀⠀She shakes her head lightly. Whether the young man is aware he's just been played like melted putty in the palm of her hand, she has no clue — and, frankly, no care.
⠀⠀Aria DeAngelis has always been a good persuader.
⠀⠀She downs the first shot with a straight face.
⠀⠀"Poor kid." Nico kisses his teeth, sympathising with the bartender as he watches the naive boy continually sneak googly—eyed glances toward his best friend.
⠀⠀"He'll get over it," Aria responds with a careless flick of the wrist, "Or not. Either way, it's not my problem."
⠀⠀Nico hums in amusement, bringing a polished martini glass to his lips.
⠀⠀"You ever think about taking it easy on these guys?" He questions, "'Settle down'... As your old man would put it."
⠀⠀Aria lets out a particularly un—ladylike snort at that — "Hell no."
⠀⠀Her eyes scan the room, surprising herself with the number of far—better—than—average faces her gaze is met with.
⠀⠀These tall, charming, athletic basketball players are especially piquing her interest, and she manages to mentally match some star—studded names to their equally as star—studded faces.
⠀⠀Jayson Tatum, Tyler Herro, Kelly Oubre Jr., Zach Lavine, Ben Simmons, Devin Booker...
⠀⠀Her mind near bursts with all the possibilities, and the night is still very much young.
⠀⠀This is going to be fun.
━━━
⠀⠀An hour and 3 more shots in her system later, Aria welcomes the familiar buzz of adrenaline that alcohol never fails to give her.
⠀⠀Her stark—straight posture begins to loosen, and she absentmindedly sways her hips to the beat of the vaguely familiar tune blaring through the speakers.
⠀⠀"Feeling okay?" Nico lightly nudges her for confirmation.
⠀⠀Aria shoots him a thumbs—up in response, "Though I could be doing better..."
⠀⠀"With some eye—candy to go home with tonight?" He finishes her sentence with a knowing laugh.
⠀⠀"Bingo!" She smirks, "It's only a question of who."
⠀⠀"Let's see..." Nico dramatically strokes his chin as if in deep thought, "Which wide—eyed, innocent lamb shall we send into the slaughterhouse..."
⠀⠀Aria flicks him on the forehead with a roll of her eyes, "A night with me is far from a slaughterhouse, thank you very much. Too bad you'll never have the luxury of finding out just how much."
⠀⠀Nico snorts at this comment, "Don't want to, never will want to, Ri."
⠀⠀"Your loss." She lightheartedly retorts.
⠀⠀"Right back at you." He throws her a wink, gesturing toward himself with playful cockiness.
⠀⠀She simply hums in response. Whether it is out of passivity or agreement — nobody knows.
⠀⠀"Now, let's see..."
⠀⠀Nico's eyes peek through the rim of his glass, and he tips his head ever so lightly toward a set of lounge chairs on the far end of the room.
⠀⠀"What about him?"
⠀⠀Aria's own gaze follows the older boy's eyeline until it comes to rest on a certain lanky, lightskinned and curly—haired figure.
⠀⠀He's wearing a plain white tee underneath a crisp beige jacket and a matching pair of cargo pants, with luxe red—bottom sneakers adorning his feet. He leans against the back of the deep maroon chaise, one hand draped lazily across it whilst the other toys with the golden chain hanging from his neck. He seems to be in deep conversation with the two other males at his side — his brothers, Aria assumes, if their matching chiseled facial features and glistening smiles are anything to go by — and though he's merely sitting and talking, she cannot help but feel the air of nonchalant confidence practically dripping off him.
⠀⠀It's not often Aria DeAngelis finds herself taken aback with another human being but — whoever this man is — he is surely an exception.
⠀⠀She holds back a smile, sets down her shot glass and makes her way to the back of the room.
⠀⠀Hips swaying — check. Shoulders squared — check. Head held high — always.
⠀⠀She approaches the trio, and the two men on either side of her target are the first to notice. They stare after her with slacked jaws, eyes blinking furiously as if attempting to remind themselves that, yes, this isn't a dream.
⠀⠀The brother she's set on barely seems to acknowledge her arrival until she's standing right in front of him.
⠀⠀He spares the girl a lackadaisical once—over before finally meeting her gaze through his thick lashes, something reminiscent of a light smirk curling at his lips.
⠀⠀It's enough to send a chill up Aria's spine.
⠀⠀"Hey." She speaks smoothly, voice oozing from her glossy lips like honey.
⠀⠀The boy's expression never once falters, "'Sup."
⠀⠀Aria is minutely stunned by the careless tone that laces his greeting. Usually, all it takes is a mere 'hello' for her targets to fall victim to her control.
⠀⠀She supposes this one needs a little extra prodding.
⠀⠀"I'm—"
⠀⠀"Aria DeAngelis." He cuts her off mid-sentence, lazily swirling the contents of his glass, "I know."
⠀⠀He almost looks... bored.
⠀⠀She sucks in a deep breath. Okay, maybe this one needs a lot of extra prodding.
⠀⠀But Aria DeAngelis has never been one to shy away from a challenge.
⠀⠀The other two boys very quickly take the hint that she's here for one person and one person only, and awkwardly scoot off the lounge to disappear into the crowd wearing identical wide—eyed expressions.
⠀⠀Aria clears her throat, steeling herself before continuing, "And you are?"
⠀⠀"Melo." He replies coolly.
⠀⠀For the first time in her life, Aria is unable to read a single hint of an expression on a man's face.
⠀⠀"Melo..." She repeats, "Never heard of you before. You new around here?"
⠀⠀If he's trying to knock her ego down a few pegs — well, two can play at that game.
⠀⠀He chuckles under his breath, seemingly unfazed, "Hardly, shorty."
⠀⠀Aria's brows furrow in mild confusion. What an interesting man.
⠀⠀"I ain't surprised though," He continues, "From what I've seen, you seem to stick to... them different types."
⠀⠀"What's that supposed to mean?" She mentally scolds the hint of indignation seeping into her words. Big mistake — she knows you should never let a man know when they're getting under your skin.
⠀⠀"Oh, you know, the ones that worship the ground you walk on, ready to do your bidding on hands and knees, willing to do just about anything for an ounce of attention..." Melo quirks a brow, "That ring any bells?"
⠀⠀"Excuse me?"
⠀⠀"I know all about your little mind games, miss Hollywood Dream," He scoffs lightly, "And if you think I'm gon' fall for them... well, you'd be a whole lot dumber than I thought."
⠀⠀Aria has to fight to keep her jaw from dropping to the ground — who the hell does this man think he is?
⠀⠀"Look. I don't know what kinda dogshit they're lacing that drink of yours with," Her lips purse stubbornly, "But you have some damn nerve thinking you can talk to me like that."
⠀⠀"No hard feelings, mama." He raises both arms in mock—surrender before dusting off his pants and standing from his seat. He steps so close to her that she's intoxicated by the scent of expensive cologne, and she can see every speck of gold in his mischief—glazed eyes, "You just picked the wrong n*gga to fuck with."
⠀⠀And with that, Aria DeAngelis is left standing alone in the middle of a Hollywood nightclub, speechless and utterly infuriated.
⠀⠀She should have known better than to believe in fairytales.
author's note,
good lord i aint update this fic in a hotttt minute 😭 apologies for that yall. i've been going back and forth all week over how i should kick this story off and at last, i think i've finally nailed it 🕺
on another note, thank you so much for all the support yall have been giving this book 🤍 all your reads, votes & comments fr be making my days, you're the best !