ARIA

When Nicco shifts to the other side of the bed, I instantly find myself missing the solid feel of his body over mine. His weight. His warmth. His everything. The sex was mind-blowing as always. But something feels a bit off now. We lay, side by side, in silence.

Physically, Nicco is close. Very close. I could reach over and touch him. His mind, however, seems far away, and this severed connection leaves me somewhat bereft. In this strained lull of our afterglow, I can't help but wonder what might be running through his head.

A grimace flattens my mouth. Nicco seems unhappy with me.

Is it because I refused, again, to tell him anything about Hawkins?

I don't know why he's so obsessed with my past. I wish he'd drop it. Already, I've given more of myself to him than any other guy. I'm trying. I really am. I've never wanted anyone as much as I want Nicco. But I don't know if I'll ever be able to open up completely. Not without breaking something irreparable within. I'm barely hanging on as it is.

It's not solely about me, either. I need to keep him as far away from Jaime as possible. No matter what happens to us after my stint as his PA comes to an end, I refuse to let anyone hurt Nicco. Myself included.

Right then, I feel his muscles tighten beside me. Concerned, I glance over. A second later, he shoots upright on the mattress, glaring at something in the corner of the room. My eyes follow his gaze. A red light flickers back at me.

What the heck?

Goosebumps prickle my skin as alarm punches through the quiet of the night.

"Shit. The camera might have been on," Nicco mutters under his breath, voicing my fears out loud.

Oh, bloody hell.

Did I just, accidentally, make a sex tape with my boss?

Right then, another very valid concern adds to my panic: Did his security team just get an eyeful of our smutty fun times?

Mortification runs deep when I demand, "Were we recorded on video?"

"If that is the case," Nicco assures me, "I will wipe every second of the footage. You do not have to worry."

Paranoia lingers in me. "Are you sure you can make everything disappear?"

"As long as the issue is strictly internal, then, sì."

Nervously, I bite into my lower lip. "What if the issue is... external?"

"Then, we will have a real fucking problem on our hands." Nicco then swings his long, muscular legs over the edge of the bed to pull on his trousers. "I am going to check on the main control panel and give my security team another call."

Trying not to panic, I start rising from bed as well. "I'll go with you."

He leans over to kiss me. "No, stay here. There is not much you can do, anyway. This is a private matter between my team and me. Not a work-related issue. Let me handle it."

"But—"

"Get some rest while you can. We will be flying back to London in a few hours."

"Okay, fine," I agree after some hesitation. "Let me know if you need help, though."

"Of course."

With urgent strides, Nicco heads out of the room. As I watch him leave, the anxious butterflies in my stomach start swarming like bees. After the door closes behind him, I look back at the security camera. The red light is still blinking. Still recording my every move.

A scowl darkens my face. Our night has been incredible so far. I hate that it's being ruined by this shitty interruption. I grab a towel from the bathroom and set a chair under the camera so I can reach it. I climb onto the seat, using the chair as a makeshift ladder of sorts. I drape the terry cloth over the lens, effectively blocking it from capturing any more footage.

There. That's better. I take a deep breath in. Let it out. No need to freak out. Yet. Technology trips up all the time, I tell myself, and Nicco is taking care of it. This shit isn't a big deal.

Right?

Right.

Still, years of trauma have turned me into a pessimistic bitch. I can't help worrying about the potential repercussions.

Just how trustworthy is Nicco's security team?

The worst-case scenario begins forming in my mind: All it takes is one greedy bastard to sell us out to the paparazzi. If there really is a sex tape, and the video somehow gets leaked to the public, then we're shit out of luck.

Once Jackson & James finds out about Nicco and me, I'll very likely be asked to resign over conflict of interest. My parents are bound to lose their ever-loving shit if this happens. Appa, especially, will never live down the embarrassment. Even if HR lets me stay, my colleagues won't look at me the same way. Everything I've worked for, every contract, every client transaction, every new stream of revenue that Nicco and I have brought in for our department, will be for nothing. Because, in their eyes, I'll be reduced to the dumb slut who fucked her boss, and he'll become the nepotistic prick who abused his power to sleep with a subordinate.

Ugh.

With a groan, I flop back onto the mattress, wishing that I knew how to help Nicco sort through such a hot mess. If this shit actually ends up hitting the fan, there's a much bigger target on his back than mine. I'm a nobody, but Nicco is a Vitale and a micro-celebrity in his own right, judging from the hundreds of thirsty Instagram accounts dedicated to his eyes alone. The public will drag him all over social media. A media circus is sure to follow, and our personal and professional reputations may be damaged for years.

Resolve falls in place. There's no question in my mind. I have to help my man fight off the fucking trolls. We need to, somehow, spin the narrative in our favor.

But... how?

My restless gaze bounces around the room, searching for a solution. A distraction. Something. Anything. The sane part of my brain senses that I might be overreacting. Just a little. I have to get it together and stop making these doomsday predictions as though someone's out to end us.

Maybe this is only a software malfunction of sorts.

Maybe Nicco's security team is actually loyal.

Maybe there's not even a sex tape.

Maybe everything will work out if I just sit tight and chill the fuck out for ten minutes.

Or maybe—there's something much darker at play that I'm not ready to confront?

***

"I know it was you. Admit it. And I'll make it hurt less."

"I-I didn't take that much, I swear. Only a couple grand—"

The force of Jaime's fist makes a terrible crunching sound as it crushes Casey's face. Blood spurts from the poor guy's mouth. A tooth goes flying. His screams echo in pain.

Jaime smiles like a fiend. "Do you know what happens to sniveling little cucarachas who steal from me?"

Casey releases a pained whimper. "I said I'm sorry, man. I'm so fucking sorry. Please. I beg you. Stop. I-I promise I won't do it aga—"

Jaime stomps down on his stomach. Another wail. More blood sprays out. Through it all, I keep my face impassive, devoid of emotion, as though his brand of violence and cruelty no longer makes me want to retch. Day after day, Jaime continues to dim what little light is left in my soul. Darkness is taking over. Dead inside, I can only muster a little sympathy for Casey. Casey dug his own grave. The short-sighted fuck.

Elonzo chortles beside them, capturing every moment of Casey's beatdown on his camera phone. Elonzo is Jaime's cousin. He's also his righthand man. Both of them make me nauseous. They're despicable. A part of me wishes there was something I could do to help Casey. But I can't intervene without drawing suspicion. I've come too far to give it all up now.

Lording over Casey's crumpled form, Jaime announces with glee, "You should've never fucked me over. If you survive the night, mi amigo, I'll release the video for everyone to see. Then, they'll know what you've done. I won't even have to put the bullet in you myself. My allies will kill you for me."

Elonzo beams like the spineless lap dog he has always been. He was the one who ratted out Casey to Jaime. He turns to glare at me for a moment. "Enjoying the show?"

I want to throw up.

But I reply, "No comment."

"You think you're better than us, don't you, bitch?"

I ignore his taunt. I need to keep my eye on the prize: Jaime deserves to spend the rest of his life in prison.

I can't act impulsively. I need to keep his trust. Sometimes, in order to take down a monster, you have to become one as well.

I look away from him, hoping he'll leave me alone. Elonzo's scowl deepens. I think he's starting to suspect shit. Elonzo asked me to unlock my phone the other day so he could scroll through my messages.

He didn't find anything, of course. I'm too smart to get caught by an idiot like him.

But if Jaime finds out?

I'm fucked.

I need to find a way to pit them against each other before they turn on me.

***

NICCO

I cannot believe that I am stuck on the phone with Liam Benson, my head of security for Balmore House, instead of enjoying what little time I have left with Aria in Inverness. I am trying to stay level-headed about this whole matter, but it is not easy. To say the night has been ruined is a goddamn understatement.

Fucking Liam keeps telling me shit that I do not want to hear. "I'm sorry to inform you, Mr. Vitale, that our systems have been compromised."

Outrage floods my veins as I demand, "Be more specific."

Liam releases a nervous chuckle into the receiver. "Three of your cameras were hacked tonight. My team and I are still investigating the source of the attack."

The evenness in my tone masks my fury when I ask, "You do not know who broke into our system?"

"Not yet. But you will be the first to know once I have a name," he finishes lamely. Liam sounds very aware of just how badly he has fucked up.

Right away, Manning and the Beltráns' names rise to the top of my list of suspects. They have every reason to come after me. I presume these fuckers are looking for blackmail. A means to bend me to their will in terms of what they hope to accomplish with Gravinski account. I do not say a word to Liam about my suspicions, though. He has lost my trust. Forever.

Lately, I have been bulking up on security in mia famiglia's properties across London. At the time, Balmore House was not my priority because I did not believe it to contain any sensitive documents or assets that would be of interest to our adversaries. The only items of value here are my cars and bikes, really.

Clearly, I was wrong.

My mood darkens when I realize that my days of all play and no work may well be gone forever. I cannot be at ease until the threat of Manning and the Beltráns has been removed. From now on, I must live and think and act as though a dagger is always ready to stab me in the back.

Fucking hell.

I hate it when my parents are right. With a sigh, I turn my attention back to Liam. Already, it has been decided. Liam will be terminated. The moment I end this conversation, I will have Monte take over as Balmore House's head of security until a replacement can be found. Whether it was Liam's incompetence or his betrayal that allowed this shit to happen tonight no longer matters, the damage has been done, and I do not know if I am angrier at him or myself for being so careless.

I start grilling Liam for more details, "Tell me everything you know."

"We have reason to believe that the perpetrator may have acquired some video footage of the master bedroom in the north wing of the manor from 0136 hours until now."

"Video footage?"

"Yes."

Damn it.

My jaw clenches with distress. More than anything, I am fucking livid that Aria's privacy has been violated in such an unforgivable way. She is mine to protect, and I have failed her. In truth, I am more furious at myself than Liam at the moment. I fucked up. Never again, though. I only intend to make this mistake—once.

"Tell me again," I snap into the receiver, "why have I been paying you an arm and leg each month to keep my shit safe? This includes my fucking privacy."

In apologetic tones, Liam stammers, "I-I assure you, sir, all known security breaches have since been addressed and contained. My team and I are working round the clock to control the damage.

I bark, "What about the video footage you mentioned?"

"Uh..."

"Can you erase it from existence?"

He mumbles, "Not if the perpetrator has already obtained a backup file."

"You are fired, Liam."

Without another word, I hang up. Useless bastardo. He has forced me to find my own way to clean up this mess. My mouth flattens into a grim line. If the footage of Aria and me has already been compromised, then it is only a matter of time before I will be blackmailed into submission. Yet, even if I give into the fucker's demands, there is no guarantee that they will not release the video, anyway, out of spite. A sex tape is bound to ruin lives. It would devastate Aria.

This is why I must do everything in my power to hunt down the guilty party and take back what they have stolen from us. I am the one who brought Aria to Balmore House. I put her at risk, so it is my responsibility to undo the damage. But I am no fool. I remain aware of the very real possibility that I may not find them in time.

If our sex tape is leaked before I can smoke out the snakes, Aria will be forced to endure a trial by fire. Dread sinks into my chest. I can already envision all the shit people might say about a young female who sleeps with her boss. Regardless of how capable she might be at her job. Regardless of the fact that we are both consenting adults. Regardless of the fact that I am crazy about her.

This current relationship of ours, as it stands, unfortunately, will do nothing to shield my girl from harm. Aria will, most likely, be decimated by the public.

However.

If Aria were to become my girlfriend in a very public sense, then she might be afforded some protection under mia famiglia's name and influence. Better yet, if mia principessa were to become my fiancée, no one would dare touch her because, in their eyes, she would soon become a Vitale as well.

A slow smile begins to spread across my face despite the dismal nature of our circumstances. For some reason, the thought of putting a ring on Aria's finger pleases me greatly. Even a false one. Our engagement does not need to be real, after all. We simply have to keep up appearances for a few months until this potential shitstorm passes.

The bottom line?

I refuse to let anyone hurt Aria. My plan might be outrageous, but it is starting to feel like the best solution to this fucked up scenario. Sì, I have no other choice.

It is what must be done.