NICCO
Following the unsettling conversation with Monte, much remains on my mind. I jump in the shower to clear my thoughts before heading out. For once, I am eager to return to the office. Shocking, I know.
Around 8 am, Nils Junior picks me up in the Bentley.
"Hurry," I mutter as I climb into the backseat, "I do not want to be late."
Nils Junior looks taken aback by my insistent tone. It is at odds with my aversion for anything and everything related to Jackson & James. He recovers quickly, though, and wipes all emotion from his face. My driver offers a mannerly reply, "Understood."
He steps on the gas. The car lurches forward, and my pulse picks up speed as well. I tell myself this sense of urgency has little to do with the desire to see Aria again and more to do with the monumental task that lies ahead of me. There is a thorn in mia famiglia's side that requires extraction.
A fucking thorn named Beltrán.
How dare these fuckers encroach on our territory?
My head grows hot. An unfamiliar burst of anger simmers through me, burning deep and dark. Like hellfire. I am surprised by the intensity of my outrage. But I am also man enough to admit that my wrath is partly fueled by fear. Fear of the unknown.
What do I know about taking on the cartel?
All I know is—I cannot fail my father. A harsh realization haunts this thought: Never have I been shoved into such a difficult position before. In the past, I have always had the choice to exist in ease and comfort. Born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I never had to fight for anything.
Perhaps, this ease and comfort has done me a disservice. Now, it appears, I have no choice. The time has come to earn the privileges tied to my Vitale namesake. A prince is nothing without his domain, after all, and our kingdom is clearly under threat. My jaw tightens. I have not felt anything quite like it: This overwhelming need to protect what is mine.
Mia famiglia.
Mia Aria.
Fists clench at my sides as I continue to stew in the backseat. An unwelcome feeling seizes my heart at the thought of my assistant. Worry pumps alongside every unruly thud of the organ. If I am being perfectly honest, the manner in which Aria snuck away still bothers me. I have never enjoyed sharing personal space with the women I fuck. But, this morning, after Aria left, my apartment felt far too big and empty.
Even now, I wish she had stayed with me.
Even now, when I should simply let it be and walk away from such a troublesome arrangement, I still want to set things right between us.
I doubt Aria will cooperate, though. Knowing her, she will pretend like nothing is wrong and pull away even more.
Unhappily, I glance out the window of my Bentley. Nils Junior is driving like a maniac, weaving in and out of the jammed lanes at every opportunity, but there is only so much he can do. Traffic is shit today. Much like my mood. We crawl forward at a snail's pace through London's Square Mile. At this point, the lofty skyscrapers lining either side of the street have been ingrained in my eyeballs. I have been staring at the same damn buildings for the past ten minutes.
With a sigh, I turn my attention back to answering emails and prepping for the day's meetings. I hardly recognize myself. I cannot believe that I am actually working outside of working hours. Again, my thoughts drift toward Aria. Like some sort of infectious disease, her insane work ethic keeps rubbing off on me.
In the middle of composing an email to the head of the accounting department, a new message pops up in my inbox. I click away from my draft to check the message. It is from the credit card company. My expression turns grim. Damn it. Not again. First, it was my Black Card.
Now, this one, too?
The gist of the email can be summarized in one daunting sentence: My Platinum Card has also been canceled.
Papà's previous warnings creep across my mind: Regardless of whether or not you accept this position at Jackson & James, your credit cards and bank accounts will be inaccessible by the end of this month.
Clearly, my grace period is coming to an end. I had hoped that Papà might show mercy, but, alas, the man appears to have no problem with tossing his firstborn, homeless and penniless, to the wolves. To him, it does not matter that Manning and Beltráns are riding our asses. Mamma would call this tough love.
I call them both heartless bastards. I have no choice but to cut down on recreational spending sooner rather than later. I will also need to find a new place to live.
Fucking hell.
With a scowl etched on my face, I enter the Jackson & James building right before nine. I take the elevator up to my floor. When I pass by Aria's cubicle, I slow my stride. She is engrossed in some spreadsheets on her laptop and does not notice me right away. As I move closer, I cannot help but worry about the shadows under her eyes. It does not look like she has slept well. I do not intend to interrogate Aria this morning, the last thing I want to do is scare her away again, but I need to know where we stand.
What is running through her head?
I cough to make my presence known.
My assistant looks away, at last, from her screen. Our gazes meet. I straighten my spine, pulling myself to stand taller. Her distress is stressing me out. I am determined to find a way to put a smile back on her lovely face.
"Morning," I murmur.
Gray eyes grow wide. Her tone is soft and full of uncertainty when she replies, "Good... morning."
I shoot her a concerned look. "How are you?"
Aria hesitates. "Things could be better."
Quietly, I request, "A word with you. In my office. Per favore."
She makes an attempt to joke, "Am I in trouble, boss?"
"You will find out soon enough," I toss back, making every effort to keep my tone light and teasing.
A chuckle slips from her pouty, pink lips, but the defeat lingers in her gray eyes, dulling their shine. Something about it calls to me, and I can no longer steel my heart against these emotions. I want Aria to know that she does not have to be alone. I want her to know that—I am here. That I am willing to go out of my fucking way to remove everything that has been dimming her light.
If only she would let me.
***
ARIA
I become a ball of stress and nerves as I follow Nicco back to his office. It has been hard to concentrate this morning. The anonymous text still hangs over my head even though I chose not to ignore it without replying. I hope it's just a harmless prank from a wrong number.
But what if Jaime sent the message?
It should be impossible. That psychopathic motherfucker is supposed to be in prison.
Right?
We pass rows of cubicles and corridors. Soon enough, Nicco's office comes into view. Like a gentleman, he holds the door open for me. I step inside, and he comes in after me. There's a faint scowl resting on his lips, and a stressed pinch between his brow. I have no idea what might be on his mind, but he certainly doesn't look happy with me.
Is my boss upset about last night?
The door to his office shuts.
Or is he annoyed about something else?
We are alone. Tension flares between us. There's so much that we left unsaid from the night before. But the conversation Nicco and I need to have is very much a Pandora's Box. I'm scared to open it.
His green eyes lock on to my gray ones. There's an accusation in his voice when he speaks, "You left without a word."
I confirm, "I did."
He takes a step toward me, not quite touching, though, and it's all I can do to not lean into his tall, solid frame. I hate the distance between our bodies.
"I thought we are friends?" Nicco grumbles. "You did not have to sneak out like a one-night stand. You are welcome to sleep over next time."
I have to admit, it's sweet of him to bring this up, and I feel like I owe him an explanation. "I'm sorry for disappearing on you last night. I wasn't trying to be rude or anything. I just had a lot on my mind, and I didn't think I would be very good company."
Nicco presses his forehead against mine as he chides, "There is no need to run from me, Aria. Even when you feel like shit."
"Don't tell me that you missed my annoying ass."
He gives me a lopsided grin. "You know I did."
I ignore the happy flutter in my chest as I cast him a withering look. "Nicco..."
"Hmm?"
"Careful."
He eyes me intently. "Of what?"
Gazing up at him, I warn gently, "If you keep acting this way, one of us might catch feelings."
In a low, husky voice that melts my insides, he counters, "Would that be so terrible?"
Yes.
We're much better off as friends. As fuck buddies, egos don't bruise, and hearts won't break. In fact, there are several more very valid reasons why I choose to answer his question with an unapologetic and resounding, "It would absolutely be a terrible idea."
Silently, I make every effort to list all the reasons why I need to stand my ground. No matter how tempting it might be to give in.
1. Nicco is my boss.
2. He's also a Vitale, and the heir to his family's billionaire-dollar fortune. I'm a nobody in comparison.
3. Jaime messed me up too much to have a normal, healthy relationship with anyone.
4. Even if we were to pursue something beyond fucking, I doubt a guy like Nicco is looking for a long-term relationship, let alone a long-distance one.
5. I shouldn't be looking for anything serious, either, since I'll only be staying in London for another month or so.
He frowns. "I disagree."
It's my turn to frown. I don't understand why he keeps angling for more. If Nicco refuses to be the voice of reason, then I have to be the sane, responsible one. And push back. "In case you didn't know, I've never had a boyfriend before. I'm hopeless at dating."
Nicco arches an eyebrow. "You have never had a boyfriend?"
I shake my head. "Nope."
"Not even one?"
"Not even one," I confess.
It's true. All I've ever known of men were a string of subpar hook-ups in college and an unhinged psycho who wouldn't leave me alone in high school.
"Are you telling me that I could, potentially, become your first boyfriend?"
"I guess so," I mutter, "but, trust me, you don't want to date someone like me."
"How could you possibly know what I want?"
"What?"
My eyes widen when, in response, Nicco lifts his hand. It drifts toward my chest. Lightly, he rests his palm on the left side. Right over my heart. His green eyes flicker with an unreadable emotion as he whispers, "Know this, Aria. I have never fallen for anyone before, but, I am beginning to suspect, the moment I start giving a fuck about someone, I will do everything in my power to make her happy. Even if she does not want me in the way I want her."
Breath catches in my lungs. With some effort, I manage to throw out a snarky retort that hides how affected I am by his words, "Who are you and what have you done with Nicco Vitale?"
Nicco chuckles. "You said it yourself, no? People can change. If they want it bad enough."
I study him carefully. I can't tell if he's messing with me, but, damn, if he doesn't sound hella convincing. Nicco and I stare into each other's eyes for several drawn-out beats. In this stretch of time, I forget that we are at work. I forget all the reasons why him and I aren't a good fit. Nicco's hand lingers on my chest. He doesn't pull away as my heart thuds against his palm. His gaze sears mine, and I can't look away. I'm mesmerized by the intensity of our connection.
Then, the moment passes all too soon, and the logical side of my brain kicks in. It slaps some sense into me, I remember why I can't fall for a guy like Nicco.
To ease the tension, I roll my eyes and laugh quietly. "Um, pretty sure you and I are walking red flags when it comes to relationships. You cannot take anything seriously for more than two seconds. And my unresolved issues have unresolved issues."
Amusement dances across his face as he drawls, "I suppose you are not entirely wrong, but that is what makes us an exciting duo, no? You and I might go down in flames. Or we may burn brighter than the sun."
I side-eye him. How poetic of him. Again, I can't tell if he's being serious or not, so I quip back, "Why don't you and I just stick to what we're good at?"
"Which is?"
My fingers trail down his chest, stopping near his belt. "Fucking."
Something hardens in his gaze when Nicco demands, "Is that all you want from me?"
The sharpness in his tone surprises me. It makes me feel like an ass. I remove my hand from him.
Shit.
I do my best to smooth things over, "It's not like that. I'm just trying to do right by us. You know I can't be your assistant forever. In a few months, we won't be working together. You'll move on to bigger, better things, and I'll go back to my old job. Why complicate our relationship when it doesn't need to be complicated?"
Not to mention, I may or may not have a dangerous criminal stalking me again, and the last thing I want to do is to drag Nicco onto Jaime's radar.
"What I want from you is not complicated," he insists.
Doubt hovers over me. "Agree to disagree."
Nicco fixes his gaze on me. Earnest. Unwavering. "My only wish is to see you smile again."
The sweetness of his ask melts me. For some reason, it makes me weaker than any overblown, undying confessions of affection. Because Nicco sounds sincere. My eyelids flutter. "That is all?"
He takes a step toward me with a thoughtful expression. "Granted, there is always the possibility that we may go our separate ways."
"If you're trying to make me smile," I huff, "you're failing miserably."
Nicco gives a knowing smirk. "Stop grumbling. You are the one who is trying to manifest the worst-case scenario. The way I see it—life is full of unknowns. But just because something might end does not mean I will treat it as such. I, for one, intend to make the most of every second, minute, and hour that you are willing to gift me. I will even give you permission to break my fucking heart. If you so choose."
The thundering of my heart contrasts with the softness of my voice as I breathe out, "Oh, Nicco..."
I fight the urge to surrender.
His head dips lower, mouth hovering over mine, almost kissing me, as he whispers against my cheek, "So, per favore, let me treat you as you deserve to be treated. Like a fucking princess."
Despite my reservations, the corners of my mouth give a twitch, curving up. "A princess, huh?"
He leans over to kiss me.
Softly.
Sweetly.
That is when my resolve finally shatters. From the moment we met, Nicco has since become the sunshine in my gray sky. I want to cling to his light against reason and rationale. To hide from the shadows that haunt me. A decision forges: Whatever this man wants from me—he can have. For however long our paths are meant to cross.
His hands fall on my hips. Nicco starts walking me backward, step by step, toward his desk. He lifts me up to sit me along the edge. "Your throne, my lady."
I can tell from the dark gleam in his eyes that Nicco is up to no good.
"There are people outside," I remind him with an arched eyebrow. "And your door's unlocked."
Flashing me a naughty grin, Nicco appears undeterred. His fingers slide under the hem of my skirt. "Then, you better keep that pretty mouth of yours nice and quiet."
"No, baby," I suggest instead, nudging him toward his black leather chair, "how about you sit..."
Without any resistance, Nicco settles into his seat. His muscled thighs splay wide as though his cock already senses the good times ahead. "Me?"
I slide off his desk and sink between his legs. All the way down to my fucking knees. Then, I look up, murmuring in a voice full of wicked promise, "And keep your pretty mouth nice and quiet for me?"