NICCO

It is nearly impossible to remain unaffected, to keep my breathing steady and even, to relax the muscles in my body, when Aria leans into me, hand on my chest, and coos, "I want a man who can fuck my brains out and bring me to my knees all the while making me feel as though my heart is the most precious goddamn thing he has ever..."

I want nothing more than to be that man: The lucky bastard who gets to fuck her brains out. Or that pretty, little mouth of hers. And, Dio, the image of my assistant on her knees, kneeling, in front of me while I am thrusting into her lush, moaning mouth turns my cock solid and thick in no time at all.

Within the same second, however, my assistant becomes distracted by someone. She pushes away from me and disappears from my side all too abruptly. My face falls. I am left to wallow on my own with the bluest of balls.

Apparently, Manning has been sighted.

Despite the discomfort between my legs, I have no choice but to follow her. She is a bit drunk. This much I know. I worry that Aria might say something in front of Manning that she will regret tomorrow.

As we approach the old bastard, the nasty look Manning reserves for Aria does not escape my notice. His sour expression, however, does a full one-eighty the moment he sees me.

That is the power of being a Vitale.

The old fucker knows who I am. Manning knows my father as well, and he is too ambitious to bite the hand that feeds. With a smile that does not quite reach my eyes, I make short work of Manning while Aria stands beside us.

I let Manning know that I was the one who fucked up our meeting. Not Aria. I make him apologize to her. On the surface, Manning submits to my will, but resentment burns in his eyes. Clearly, his ego has been wounded. I know I have made an enemy of Manning tonight, but I do not care. Fuck him for fucking with Aria.

This slight setback with Manning is worth it because, soon after, Aria turns to me with her soft gray eyes and murmurs, "Thank you, Nicco, for standing up for me."

My breath hitches at the adoring way she is gazing at me. "I—"

A ring begins to trill from my phone. I glance at the screen. It is Monte, my father's right-hand man. Monte and I do not share blood, but the man was my bodyguard when I was a boy. In this way, he is famiglia, too, and I never ignore famiglia. No matter how shitty their timing may be. With a curse, I answer the call.

When I finally end my conversation with Monte, Aria has wandered away from me again. I hurry after my assistant, but Barbara from the legal team ambushes me before I can reach her. Barbara is blonde, brown-eyed, and in her late thirties. She is rather attractive, and she knows it.

"Nicco," she drawls with a flirty smile, "I wasn't expecting to see you tonight. What a treat."

The woman is simpering at me as though she cannot decide whether my cock or my bank account would be more desirable to her.

"Hello, Barbara," I sigh.

Barbara tries her best to carry the conversation, but my attention is elsewhere. My eyes keep scanning the crowd for my assistant. Alarm rises in me when I finally locate Aria. She is chatting up a tanned, blonde fucker by the bar. It looks like he is about to buy her a drink.

Not on my watch.

I flash Barbara a tight smile and excuse myself. Irritation pricks me as I head toward Aria.

What is up with these bastards circling around my assistant like hungry sharks tonight?

First, it was Stephan from Mergers and Acquisitions. Then, it was that bearded asshole with pretentious glasses. Now, this goddamn Ken doll is trying to shoot his shot.

Without hesitation, I sidle up beside Ken and Aria, introduce myself as her boss, and proceed to try my damnedest to douse any sparks between them. I steal a page from Papà's playbook. I start droning on and on about ROIs, CAGRs, and IPOs. Ten minutes in, the Ken doll yawns and excuses himself to use the restroom.

He does not come back.

Ken—0.

Nicco—1.

Aria glares at me.

"What?" I ask with wide eyes.

"I know what you were doing, and I don't appreciate it," she grumbles.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," I insist with an artless grin.

Still looking a bit tipsy, my assistant pouts and hiccups at the same time. It is kind of adorable. "I've had a stressful week, Nicco. I need to let loose. So, please, either get with the program or get out of my way!"

Without another word, Aria trips past me and teeters off into the crowd. As luck would have it, Barbara chooses this moment to reappear in front of me. Through lowered lashes, she purrs, "Ah, Nicco! There you are. I was hoping chat with you about the matters tied to Chance Howard's portfolio in a more private setting?"

The woman is relentless.

"Sorry," I mutter as I brush past her. "Not tonight."

By the time I find Aria again, she has somehow found her way back to the Pretentious Beard. The fucker has his hand on the small of her back, and, for a moment, all I see is red.

"Oh, hey, Nicco!" Aria slurs happily when she sees me. "Chad and I are going to head out soon. He says I haven't lived until I check out this club called Painted Ladies. I'll see you in the office on Monday, okay?"

There is no way in hell I am letting the Pretentious Beard steal Aria away from me tonight.

"Painted Ladies? What a coincidence," I lie through my teeth. "I was planning to meet some friends there later this evening."

Aria frowns. "Really?"

"Why don't we all go together?"

"Come on, now, mate," the Pretentious Beard protests, "step off, will you?"

I pay him no mind. I only have eyes for my assistant. Pink-cheeked and glassy-eyed, Aria looks like she is floating on cloud nine at this point. My assistant, I realize, is a lightweight, and, to my surprise, she actually speaks up for me in her inebriated haze, "No, no, it's fine, Chad. Let him come. The more, the merrier, right?"

"Precisely, the more, the merrier," I affirm before Chad can deny me.

Chad scowls at me.

I smirk back at him.

Chad—0.

Nicco—1.

We arrive at Painted Ladies around 8:00 pm. It is a strip club located near Chinatown. The club smells of smoke, alcohol, and cheap perfume. Bright, flashing lights dance around me. Speakers are on full blast. The bass drops so hard that I can feel it in my chest. Topless girls in G-strings shimmy and shake across the stage and twirl around the poles.

Chad and I spend the next hour competing for Aria's attention.

Later, the club starts filling up with regulars, and I end up purchasing a VIP room for the three of us. I know how disgusting my gender as a whole can be at times, and I do not want Aria's night to be ruined by these horny, unruly assholes. She possesses every right to enjoy herself. My assistant has worked far too hard this week and deserves to be rewarded with a night of depravity.

Ten minutes go by. A trio of dancers named Starshell, Kiki, and Glitter join us in the back. I tip the girls extra to keep Chad occupied so I can have Aria all to myself. I sit down next to her on a plush black velvet couch.

"I can't believe I'm in a real strip club," Aria exclaims with a mischievous giggle.

"Is this your first time?" I ask with amusement.

She nods with a naughty smile. "Yeah, this is my first time, but I'm no stranger to chaos."

No stranger to chaos?

My interest is, again, piqued, and I am left to wonder what Aria means by this remark.

Before I can ask her, my assistant dashes off to learn how to twerk from Glitter.

And dances like a mad woman to "Single Ladies" with Kiki.

And takes a few shots off of Starshell's navel.

I notice, in this setting, that my assistant is nothing like the self-conscious, hyper-focused workaholic I have come to know these past few weeks. Her gray eyes are somewhat glazed over from alcohol, but the smile never leaves her face. Aria looks free for once, uninhibited, and I am utterly mesmerized. She has been a wild soul trapped inside a cage of her own making. I am happy to watch her break free. If only for tonight.

Chad decides to go home with Glitter shortly after 11 pm.

Chad—0.

Nicco—2.

Aria does not even care when he leaves.

Chad—0.

Nicco—3.

Starshell offers to give me a lap dance. I decline. Around midnight, I shoo Kiki and Starshell away. Aria and I are finally alone in the VIP room. I turn to Aria, who is now sitting in the corner, quietly humming the chorus to a song I do not recognize.

Concerned, I ask, "You okay?"

"Mm-hmm," she mumbles and yawns. "Just a little... sleepy."

Like a gentleman, I offer, "Do you need me to take you home?"

Yawning again, Aria nods. "That's probably a good idea, I feel like I'm about to pass out..."

I help her out of the club. Stumbling to and fro on her heels, Aria leans against my shoulder for support. I wrap my arm around her shoulders to steady her, and I am surprised by how petite she feels in my arms. Her ferocity at work always made her seem much taller in person. A strange sensation tugs at my heart. It feels funny. Aria continually draws out a softness in me that I did not know was possible. But do not get me wrong.

My dick is still hard for Aria.

Especially after watching her twerk and dance with Glitter and Kiki all night. I ignore it, though. I no longer have any intention of fucking her. Not tonight, anyway. Not when she is drunk. I want her to come to me later. Willingly. With desperation clawing through her veins and fire in her eyes. I want to make her beg for it. I am in no hurry.

As we all know, I am slow, steady, patient fucker.

While we maneuver our way toward the exit, Aria suddenly falls forward, tripping over nothing. Her eyes widen with panic as her body topples forward. I catch her before she hits the ground.

Aria gazes up at me with those soft gray eyes of hers and smiles. "My hero."

To my shock, her hand reaches up to graze my cheek. Her touch heats my skin. Then, she traces my lower lip with her fingertips.

Neon lights flash around us. Music booms from the speakers. But I focus on her. Only her. My heart thuds against my chest. Hard. Aria draws my face to hers. Our gazes touch and linger. Green on gray. I am bewitched. I want her so badly.

"This is a terrible idea," she whispers against my mouth. "Tell me to stop, Nicco."

But I say nothing, nothing at all, when her lips brush against mine in the lightest of kisses.

She tastes so sweet and seductive. Like an angelo touched by sin. I am powerless before her. Happily so. Closing my eyes, I give in to our kiss but for a moment before pulling away. "No."

Because it is the right thing to do.

Aria stares up at me in confusion. "No?"

Fuck me if it is not one of the most difficult things I have done.

"Not like this," I tell her with a tight smile, "whenever we do kiss, I want you to want it, to want me, and remember every fucking moment of it."

***

ARIA

Even in my state of total panic, I can't help but stare.

God.

Nicco's black hair is still damp from his shower. His golden-bronzed skin is bare everywhere. No tattoos. Usually, I have a thing for guys with ink, but Nicco doesn't need anything extra. His body is already perfection. That broad, sculpted chest. Those muscular, veiny arms. Nicco looks like a fever dream come to life. My mouth runs dry as my pulse picks up speed.

"How did you sleep?" my boss asks, far too calmly, as though he finds it perfectly normal for me to wake up in his bed.

"Like the dead," I mutter.

He chuckles. "I cannot argue with you there. You passed out before I could even carry you through my door."

"You... carried me?"

Nicco nods.

My thoughts are a mess as I try to make sense of what may or may not have happened last night.

My underwear is still on, and I'm not sore or sticky anywhere. But a bitch can never be too sure. I can't seem to trust myself around Nicco. Still, I don't think I slept with my boss. I doubt he would take advantage of me in that way, either.

Why the hell am I in his bed, then?

My temples start to throb. I don't have the patience to beat around the bush. So, I dive straight into interrogation mode, demanding, "What happened last night?"

"You do not remember what you said to me in the car?"

Buzzing with uncertainty, I shake my head. Why did you bring me here?

He side-eyes me with a wry expression. "I was going to bring you home, but then you started freaking out because you did not want to be alone. You begged me to bring you to my place until you sobered up."

I wince.

Shit.

That does sound like something drunk Aria might say.

Embarrassed, I proceed to ask in a flustered manner, "After we got to your apartment, did you, did we—"

With a wicked gleam in his green eyes, he finishes for me, "Fuck?"

"Yeah," I confirm with an anxious gulp.

Nicco's brow furrows. "You truly do not remember anything from last night?"

"Not much. After we hit the strip club, everything is kind of a blur," I admit.

"Would it bother you if something happened between us?" he asks in cautious tones.

No.

"Yes," I insist for my sake more than his.

I need to remember to separate fantasy from reality, regardless of my attraction to Nicco. I am his assistant, I remind myself over and over again, and he is my boss.

He grimaces. "I see."

"You never answered my question," I prompt.

Nicco sighs, "Relax. Nothing happened between us. Our relationship remains untainted and boring and professional as hell."

"You swear?" I ask, feeling oddly disappointed.

"I promise," he murmurs. "I did not touch you. Last night, I slept on the couch and let you have the bed."

"What a gentleman," I remark softly.

He smiles a crooked smile. "See? I am not as villainous as you think I am."

But, then, Nicco averts his gaze for a moment. A blush darkens his cheeks, and, for some reason, I can't help but feel as though he's hiding a secret from me?

A pensive frown weighs down my mouth.

My fingers brush against my lips. A pleasant warmth lingers there.

Strange.

Why do I feel as though, maybe, just maybe, I've forgotten something significant about last night?

***

NICCO

As I study her, sitting in my bed, wearing my Armani shirt, a surge of an unfamiliar emotion rises in me. Tenderness. It makes me want to protect her, filling my chest with conflict and confusion. Normally, I would not let anyone near my Armani. I do not know what to make of my strange behavior.

Or what to make of her?

The Aria I know from work is not the same Aria I witnessed last night. Instinct tells me that my assistant is not as invincible as she wants everyone to believe. It makes me question if I really know her at all.

Aria may not remember much from yesterday, but I was completely sober, and I remember every fucking detail.

I'll never forget our almost-kiss at the club.

Or the car ride back to my apartment.

Or the way Aria crawled into my lap like a frightened child.

I'll definitely never forget what she whispered in my ear right before she passed out from the alcohol.

I'm scared, Nicco.

Of what?

I'm scared he'll come for me again.

Who is this fucker?

Don't let him find me, okay?

What does he want with her?