NICCO

Before we became man and wife, Aria was mia principessa. A princess is to be protected. But now she is my wife. Mia regina. My queen. I will protect her forever, but I must allow her to rule alongside me as well so we may fight our bloodiest battles together.

As our limo drives away from The Plaza, the weight of my Beretta sits comfortably in its holster. It has been hidden under my blazer since the beginning of our wedding. I glance out the window and notice two black unmarked SUVs tailing us. Those two vehicles are not part of my security team. Nor do they belong to the media. Juan Pablo was not able to infiltrate the hotel, but he is definitely making his presence known now that we are out in the open.

Game on, fucker.

I reach inside my blazer.

Send your worst, and I will answer tenfold.

My hand brushes against cool metal. That Beltrán fucker and his little amicos are welcome to do as they please. Juan Pablo must think that Aria is his fly, and he is her spider. Little does he know, however, she is the one who has been spinning a web around him.

I will also be there—in the shadows, ready, waiting—like the fucking reaper.

The thought of my bullet piercing the space between his eyes stretches my smile into a more vicious curve.

ARIA

Is this real life?

I can't tell anymore.

Our wedding is over, but everything still feels fucking surreal. I've since switched out of my gown into a far less formal and far more comfortable ensemble. Stilettos have been replaced with trainers. My outfit is still white, though. A white blazer paired with a white dress shirt tucked into a white pleated skirt. All Armani. I wasn't surprised when Nicco insisted on it. My man has always been obsessed—maybe even a bit borderline fanatical and superstitious—about his Armani. As though he believes the Armani gods might shield me from harm when our plan swings into action.

My nerves grow tight as I try not to obsess over the possibility of getting shot and killed within the next twenty-four hours.

I should really take my own advice to heart. We've truly done everything possible, I echo what I told Nicco again and again in my mind, to prepare for the worst. Unlike the beautiful but bulky gown, this suit will allow me to run for my life if shit takes a deadly turn. The tailored fit is also generous enough for me to hide a bulletproof vest underneath. The blazer is made of wool with silk lining on the inside. There's a minuscule tracking device, a microphone, and a video camera sewn in between the two layers fabric, making them invisible to the naked eye. The camera lens is disguised as a button on my collar. Nicco had everything custom-designed especially for me by his security team.

I'm as protected as I can be under treacherous circumstances. Although, there's always a good chance that Juan Pablo might have his men strip me of my gear before reinforcements arrive. Or simply blow out my brains on a whim.

Oh, God.

Oh, God.

Oh, God.

I'm so temped to take the easy way out. Nothing is stopping me from asking Nicco to take care of Juan Pablo for me. Raining a few bullets in that fucker's skull would be quick and easy enough. It's what Nicco has been dying to do, actually. But then we would incur the wrath of the entire Beltrán cartel. The last thing I want is for Nicco to start a war over me. His family is my family now, and we can't be reckless by shoving them in the middle of a war between the mafia and the cartel.

If we were to target Juan Pablo in a more lawful manner, the Vitales certainly have more than enough resources to chip away at the Beltrán empire until it crumbles. But that shit will take years. Maybe even decades. Hell, it took almost a year just to bear the fruit from my Sossaman-Hewitt scheme. The evidence I sent to the SEC will also take forever and a day before I hear results from any charges and trials.

I'm sick of waiting.

Maya deserves justice, I remind myself, and this is the fastest route to destroy everything Juan Pablo holds dear. We can take everything away from him. Today. I simply need to take advantage of this moment in time while the media's spotlight is shining bright on us. I'll use it to create the perfect storm, amplifying my voice while framing Juan Pablo as Public Enemy Number One. With all of this heat on him, the Beltráns will be forced to sacrifice him to save themselves. They've never been men of honor, after all. They're evil, greedy, self-serving criminals, and Juan Pablo's friends in high places won't be able to protect him if the public and the press keep pressuring the government to lock him behind bars.

Once we have this momentum on our side, Nicco and his lawyers can go in for the kill and make sure that Juan Pablo never steps foot outside prison again.

I can almost taste it.

Revenge.

It's sweet and sickening.

Like honey-laced poison.

We've selected a very public and secure venue to set our trap, but there's always risk even in the best-laid plans. I hope I won't end up as a bleeding corpse on my wedding day. I want to live until I'm old and gray with the man I love.

Nicco.

Everything in life comes at cost. With great rewards comes great risks. Reality rattles me to the core when I realize that I'm about to deliver myself like a lamb to slaughter. I don't know if I'm being very brave. Or very stupid. Either way, I need a distraction from this fear. I need an anchor to center my thoughts.

I need my husband.

My gaze lands on him.

Husband.

This one word keeps dancing around my head, fear fades a little, and the smile on my face grows braver. I can't believe I get to call him my husband. From the start, Nicco has been my one true solace amid tumultuous waters. Igniting my senses. Soothing my soul. He's become a well of strength in the face of the fuckery to come.

Taking in a deep breath, I glance down. The gray diamond on my hand shines so damn bright. There are such depths of meaning sealed within this ring. It represents us, and everything we've been through—the highs and the lows, the love and the hate, the betrayal and the growing trust–to arrive at this very moment. Part of me is floating on cloud nine. I'm positive that Nicco adores me. But I'm unraveling as well.

After all this time, do I have what it takes to take down Juan Pablo?

Who knows.

Love and lust battle with terror and adrenaline. They make potent adversaries, clashing and colliding until the coiling, anguished energy has nowhere to go. I'm practically trembling with it. There's so much on the line. I need to find release, somehow, so I don't fucking implode.

Nicco sits beside me as we speed down the I-495. I take a moment to admire him. Even after all this time, he still takes me breath away. His dark hair is slicked back for once. It's refined and gentlemanly in the way I imagine a royal from a dark fairytale might look. There's a sexy five o'clock shadow framing his jaw. The universe knew what it was doing with this man, and my love for him makes his effect on me all the more potent. My insides melt despite my fractured state. Nicco's black and white tux is still on, but it's in a much more relaxed state. The black tie has been loosened around his neck, and it's taking all of my self-control to not rip off the strip of silk, peel away the rest of his Armani, crawl on his lap, and fuck him in the backseat of our limo until the worst of my worries disappear.

As though Nicco can read my mind, he glances over and inquires in low tones. "Everything alright?"

Should I tell him how I really feel?

I'm not sure.

There's no harm in telling a small white lie, right?

I should put on a brave front for Nicco's sake.

Because I know you'll protect me with your life.

Especially after that show of bravado I just put on when Nicco tried to dissuade me from our plans.

Trust me, Nicco, because I trust you. Please.

Instinct keeps telling me to keep my shit to myself. But something in me fights against it. I think it's wisdom. I've learned my lesson the hard way, and I'll never make the same mistake again. Nicco deserves better. I'm his wife now. We've entered a new season in life, together, so I must change with it. I must change for him.

Uncomfortable though it may be, the truth spills out, "Not really."

"What is the matter?"

Refusing to hide anything from my husband, I admit, "Don't get me wrong. I still want to stick to our script. But I'm a little... scared... now that we've hit the ground running."

The bulletproof vest that's wrapped around my chest makes it hard to draw breath. I don't know if the confounded contraption's too bloody tight. Or if I'm about to spiral.

Right then, Nicco reaches for my hand and gives it a comforting squeeze. My turmoil stills when he offers, "If you wish—just say the word—and I can put you on a private jet to Palermo within the hour and tuck you away, safely, in one of mia famiglia's villas until Juan Pablo is dead."

"Nice try, baby," I grumble, "but I'm not that scared. I won't ditch you when shit is about to hit the fan. We're in this together, remember?"

"In case that case," he murmurs after a slight pause, changing tactics, "what can I do to help ease your fears?"

Warmth rushes through my body. It feels like gratitude and appreciation. I love Nicco so much for always wanting to protect me. But I love him even more for not sending me away against my will. It means he believes in me. Nicco's faith gives me a renewed sense of purpose. I'm less afraid.

"Tell me," Nicco urges again when I don't answer right away. "Per favore."

What can he do for me?

Right here?

Right now?

Our eyes meet. I'm sure desire is burning in my eyes. I see a flicker of interest in his green gaze. Unspoken heat flares between us. The mood turns and shifts. Air catches in my lungs as a wicked, little thought runs through my head: I want your cock so deep in my pussy until I feel nothing but pleasure.

His eyes grow dark. "Dio, I know that look."

I blush. "What look?"

Nicco smirks. "The look that tells me—I am about to become one lucky son of a bitch."