ARIA

For some reason, the idea of standing in front of Juan Pablo after being fucked senseless by Nicco is my kind of sick retribution. Something about this depraved scenario lights up the darkness within me. I won't lie. I fucking love it.

"You own me, Nicco."

"Your mind?"

"Yes."

"Your body?"

"Yes."

"Your heart?"

I whisper faintly, "You have always been my heart, Nicco."

The strength behind my soft words seems to incite something deep within him. Nicco's handsome features contort with tender, helpless-looking emotions. "Fuck, Aria! I lo—"

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

Those three precious words almost spill from the edge of my lips as well, but I can't bring myself to say them. I'm not ready to hear him say them, either.

I press a light finger to his mouth, hushing him. "Not yet. Tell me when this is all over. Give me a reason to come back, baby."

"Dio, you will be the end of me."

His large hands grasp the dips of my waist, pulling me down as he drives upward. The force of it draws a gasp from my lungs. A low, guttural sound rumbles from his chest when he enters with a powerful thrust. Pleasure explodes within even though he's only halfway inside. God, his dick might actually split me. My eyes grow wide, wincing at the incredible stretch while moaning from ecstasy. I don't know if I can take any more right now. But I want more. My cunt wants to devour him like a hungry slut.

He pumps in slowly. I adjust to him little by little. Then, we begin fucking like there's no tomorrow. It doesn't take long for us to find our first release together. He pours himself into me while I wring him dry.

I whimper breathlessly, "Fuck, I don't think I'll be able to walk tomorrow..."

He smiles against my cheek, mumbling, "That means I am doing something right, principessa."

I feel him grow solid and thick within my walls. "Jesus, fuck. How are you still hard?"

He grins brazenly and winks. "A husband is always hard for his wife."

I have the grace to blush once more.

The city flies by our bulletproof windows, reminding me that danger lurks everywhere. I'm only a trigger pull away from being reunited with Maya. My wide-eyed gaze drifts back to my husband. He anchors me. After a moment, he's ready to go again. Nicco starts pumping into me without abandon, and I let myself freefall. I'm already close to coming again.

"Faster," I plead, "harder."

Obediently, Nicco pistons into me like a goddamn machine, and, snapping my hips while rolling my back, I meet him thrust for thrust and stroke for stroke. Over an hour later, our bodies don't stop until we arrive at our destination. Nicco and I pull up to the airport like two newlyweds about to embark on our honeymoon. His come is literally pouring out of me at this point.

"You've made a mess," I grumble.

Grinning wickedly, he swipes some of it from my thighs and shoves it back inside my pussy. "I know."

"You're shameless."

"That is because I want the world to know that you are mine. Only mine. Mine to fuck. Mine to adore. Mine to protect. Mine to spend the rest of my life with."

My expression softens. "I'd like nothing more to spend my life with you."

A moment of intimacy tempers the frenzied fucking from earlier. I feel bonded to this man.

Deeply.

Darkly.

Completely.

After Nicco helps me roll my panties back in place, I reach for the door handle. "Ready?"

"Not at all." He reaches for my wrist, stopping me from leaving. "It is taking all of my self-control right now to let you go."

"Just give me sixty minutes, follow the plan, and I'll be back before you know it."

Nicco glares. "If you die on me..."

"I won't die on you," I insist, "because you're going to keep me alive, right?"

"I will keep you safe," he promises.

Our eyes meet. He knows I won't back down. I know he'd take a bullet for me. I'd do the same for him. A wordless sense of understanding and trust passes between us. Slowly, reluctantly, Nicco releases my wrist from his grasp. My blood runs a bit cold when his warmth leaves me. I exit the limo on my own. I can feel the weight of Nicco's gaze following my every step as I enter the terminal. He doesn't follow me. Only one of my bodyguards escorts me inside. If I entered alone, it might arouse suspicion.

With only Miller at my side, I appear to be low-hanging fruit and, therefore, irresistible. From the corner of my eye, I see the two black SUVs pulling up to the curb. Nicco's limo is driving away.

The bait is set.

Come and get me if you dare.

***

NICCO

Aria is gone, and I am alone in the limo.

Our trap is in place.

I have already met with the governor multiple times over the past two weeks to discuss our plans in detail, and I convinced him to grant me free rein over JFK for the next few hours. In return, if our efforts prove successful, I will let him take credit for taking down one of the most notorious crime families since, well, mine. The Beltráns are, indeed, big fish that are a worthy catch. Such an achievement will certainly serve the governor well in his upcoming bid for re-election. The authorities are ready to pounce. Airport staff are on high alert. My men are armed and stationed throughout the terminal. Disguised, of course, as airport personnel and passengers. As long as Juan Pablo does not remove Aria from the premises, we can protect her from that psychotic fucker. A Dio piacendo. An insane amount of preparation has gone into this plan. All the moving parts are interlocked and ready to be set in motion.

My mind is more than ready to see this through, but my heart is not at ease. Despite the impressive army and deadly arsenal at my disposal, despite my trust in Aria's impeccable strategy, and despite every precaution we have taken to avoid potential catastrophes, I think the hardest thing I have done in life is letting my wife walk away from me and into the airport. Distress eats into me. It feels like I have been forced to carve my heart from my chest and send it straight to the lion's den.

When this nightmare is over, I am never letting her out of my sight again.

Moments later, the limo pulls into an underground parking lot. A clench tightens my jaw. It is almost showtime. I change out of my suit into something a little less conspicuous. I strap on my gear and connect to Aria's camera through my phone. I can now see and hear everything she can see and hear. The tension in my shoulders relax a little. So far, so good. She is walking by one of the terminal gates. There is a ladies' restroom to her right. Without taking my eyes off of the screen, I enter the airport through a different entrance. My Beretta is holstered to my chest, hidden beneath a black leather jacket.

Before we reached our agreement, the governor made me promise to let the NYPD and FBI handle any violence that may erupt. I intend to honor my promise.

As long as they are not putting Aria's life at risk.

While I stroll through crowds of passengers with a suitcase in hand, I lower my mouth near the collar of my shirt.

"Remember," I mutter into my mic, "the moment she is in danger, we shoot on sight."

Collins' voice crackles through my earpiece, "Affirmative, boss."

Leo protests, "But I thought the governor wanted us to—"

I snap, "What he wants will not matter if Aria is dead."

"Point taken, boss," Leo murmurs.

"Do not worry about leaving a few dead bodies in the airport," I assure him, "I can clean up the mess after we are done... playing. The governor will not be able to file a single complaint against us."

What is the point in having all this money, after all, if you cannot use it to make a few dead bodies disappear?

***

ARIA

When the fuck will Juan Pablo make his move?

The wait is driving me nuts.

Was I wrong to assume that he would come after me?

I've been wandering around the airport for about fifteen minutes now. Nothing seems out of place. Although, the bustling terminal makes it impossible to keep an eye on everything. There are too many people. Too many sounds. Too much movement and color. Juan Pablo could be hiding in plain sight. Fear beats alongside my pulse. I trust Nicco, though. I know he'll keep me safe even in an environment as chaotic as an airport.

We wander into a gift shop. We wander out. We pass by a few terminal gates. Still no sign of Juan Pablo or his men. Maybe it's time to up the ante. Miller seems to read my mind. Around this time, he gives me a discreet, questioning look, I nod at him, and he disappears shortly afterward. I walk by a ladies' restroom. Alone. Then, I pass the men's restroom. Alone. Right as I'm about to grab myself a coffee, however, the restroom door pops open, and a hand shoots out to capture my wrist, yanking me inside.

I really shouldn't be so surprised, but I gasp, anyway, "What the—"

Blood drains from my face when I hear his voice, "Congrats on your marriage, Mrs. Vitale. You'll always be Ari to me, though. What a naughty, little bitch you've been. But don't worry. Karma's always a bigger bitch. You're about to get exactly what you deserve. I'll make sure of it."