NICCO

My jaw ticks several times.

Like Mamma and Papà, my sister simply cannot resist meddling in my affairs. If I was still on good terms with Aria, I would be livid with Vivi for going after my girl. There is no doubt in my mind: She intended to trap Aria's ass. Her approach is a medley of extremes. Insidious and ingenious. A headache pounds at my temples. Between Aria and my sister, the females in my life are proving to be absolute menaces. I cannot relax my guard for one second.

I side-eye my sister with disapproval. "No one asked for your help. You know people go to prison for this sort of thing, right?"

It bothers me that Vivi was trying to make a criminal out of Aria. I may be a pot calling a kettle black, especially considering the incendiary nature of my recent visit to Spain.

"It is not illegal unless Aria exploits the information for her own financial gain."

"Were you planning to turn her in to the authorities?"

Shamelessly, Vivi affirms, "Only if she proved to be a greedy, unscrupulous bitch."

I warn quietly, "Next time, mind your own business."

My sister protests, "I was looking out for you."

Typical Vivi.

I find her intentions to be both annoying and endearing when I push back, "What did you tell Aria about Sossaman-Hewitt?"

"I let her know that the CEO of Sossaman-Hewitt will be stepping down in the near future. Stocks will plummet once the media catches wind of this development."

My eyes grow wide. This gives me something to think about. First, it was the key she stole from Manning.

Now?

Aria appears to be setting up Manning and Juan Pablo for a financial downfall. This aligns with the details she revealed in her letter.

If we are patient and allow Manning to dig his own grave, Jaime will dispose of him for us.

Cazzo.

Aria appears to be pitting them against each other. I take a moment to process everything. Little by little, my brain works out the method behind her madness. I am beginning to realize that, maybe, just maybe, her main objective in using my account to sign over the Gravinski account was not to backstab me. But to destroy Manning's credibility in Juan Pablo's eyes.

Once the Sossaman-Hewitt stocks crash, Manning must bear the brunt of the failure, and Juan Pablo will undoubtedly punish him for dumping his family's money into such a shitty investment. The moment Juan Pablo loses trust in Manning, he will start relying on Aria as his righthand woman in the investment banking industry. Her strategy is not a bad one. In fact, I kind of wish that I had thought of it. In light of this new turn, my anger toward her does not subside, but it grows still. I become quiet and contemplative. Moments ago, I thought Aria had been out to get me from day one. My perspective of her betrayal begins to tilt and shift.

Would it make you feel better if I told you that my agenda has nothing to do with helping Manning or Jaime get what they want?

I hate to admit it, but Vivi may be right. You can learn a lot about a person's character through their decisions. Maybe she did not choose Juan Pablo over me out of free will. Maybe I was not her target at all. Merely collateral damage.

Is it fair to resent Aria when her motives cannot be categorized in black or white?

This shit is more complex than a matter of broken trust. She has been operating in the gray, and gray is a color that I am beginning to understand well. Instinct insists that it may be in my best interest to set aside resentments and focus on what I can gain from her. Maybe it is a good thing that Aria is resigning from Jackson & James.

I will be leaving soon as well.

After all, Aria is not the only one who wishes to carry out ambitious plans. As long as our objectives remain aligned, I am willing to put on a fake-ass smile and hold hands with the woman who ripped out my heart. The rewards in getting access to Danmore's vast network of resources and Aria's deep, dark history with Juan Pablo outweigh the risks. Oliver's empire can be used to constrict Juan Pablo's empire and Aria's intel is the perfect blade to press against his throat.

Wheels begin to turn as new possibilities take shape, resolve steels within my chest, and a decision clicks in place.

Phone still in hand, I mutter to my sister, "Grazie, Vivi."

"For what?" she demands suspiciously. "I thought you were pissed at me for messing with your ex."

"I am pissed, but..."

"But?"

"Thanks to you, I learned something of value."

"That Aria is no longer your enemy?"

"That Aria is the enemy of our enemy," I drawl, "so I do not need to trust her as long as she hates the Beltráns more than we do."

"What did they ever do to her?"

Unease sits in my chest. I hesitate before answering, "She went to school with Alvin's son. He tormented her for years."

Even now, the thought of her pain hurts me even though I should not care. The scars on Aria's flesh linger before my eyes. Five faint tally marks are the only remnants of the brutality Juan Pablo unleashed on her.

"How bad was it?" Vivi probes.

It is not my place to tell Aria's story, so I simply say, "What he did to her makes me want to kill him."

My sister is able to read between the lines. Understanding seems to sink in when Vivi curses quietly, "Fucking piece of shit."

I could not agree more.

Swiping my thumb across the screen, I pull up Aria's number. I am ready to end this conversation. Mia principessa and I have much to discuss. "Anyway."

"What?"

"I have to make another call."

"Is this your way of telling me to fuck off?"

"In the nicest way possible," I murmur, "sÌ."

***

ARIA

Looking like death, I land in JFK. There are dark circles under my eyes. Pain pounds at my temples. I barely slept on the flight. It's half past midnight. No, wait. It's actually half past seven. For a moment, I forgot that I'm in a different time zone, in a different city, in a different country.

3,451 miles away from Nicco.

Something withers within. It feels like defeat to be back on this side of the pond, especially after the trouble I went through to escape my past. I've always felt safer in London.

Here in the States?

Ugly memories crowd my senses, caging me in an endless loop of horrific visuals and destructive emotions.

Hawkins.

Maya.

My parents.

Jaime.

For once, though, I don't fight the onslaught. The sheer force of it leaves me in agony. I let the pain sink in, washing through me like a toxic tide. Funny how, after all these years, I've yet to process this shit. Never even allowed myself to touch it.

Tears prick my eyes. I guess there's always been a part of me that believed I'd be dead by now. Like Maya. But, somehow, I'm still alive, still breathing, still fighting the good fucking fight. A wobbly smile tilts my mouth. Hell, I should've dealt with this shit years ago, head on, instead of letting my demons fester and grow like some kind of cancer. Jaime has always been my cancer. The thought of seeing him in person makes me want to scream. Step by step, I shuffle out of the plane along with the other passengers. Dread trails my every move like an oppressive shadow.

Is this how a prisoner feels as she's being delivered to her cell?

I can't believe I'm delivering myself back into his orbit. I'm scared shitless that he's going to take over my life again and turn me into someone I detest, but I need to be brave.

Courage isn't courage, I tell myself, unless you're truly afraid.

My little pep talk fails to do the trick. Every nerve is still strung tight when I stop at baggage claim. While I wait for my bags to arrive, I schedule an Uber, skipping the hotel and choosing, instead, to head straight for the hospital. The drive will probably take an hour or so in traffic.

I need to see Appa before I lose my mind.

Right as I climb into my Uber, a low, incessant buzz-buzz-buzz hits my pocket. Someone's calling me. I frown anxiously. It can't be Jaime. Fucker only contacts me through the burner. My hand slips into my pocket to pull out my phone. Glancing at the caller ID, both eyebrows shoot up.

The moment I see his name, my breath catches, and I answer right away, "H-Hello?"

"Aria?"

"Yes?"

His voice, deep, masculine, and achingly familiar, cuts into me like a blade, "Fuck you."

Love you, too, babe.

Nicco sounds pissed, and I think I know why. "I assume you saw my email?"

He growls, "I cannot believe you left the goddamn country without telling me first."

As though I'm not on the verge of a mental breakdown, I reply in a steady voice, "What are you talking about? I notified you via my letter of resignation."

He stays silent for a second. "You should have discussed this decision with me in person."

"You would've tried to stop me. Or forced me to stay."

"No shit. I explicitly stated that I want to keep you as my assistant."

"Not because you want me around. It's only because you don't trust me. In case you can't tell, I didn't leave out of spite. My dad needs me, and I'm trying to unfuck everything that I wrecked between us."

"You do not think that I deserve more than an email," he protests, "after everything we have been through?"

"We were already broken up," I remind him softly.

"As if I could forget," Nicco mutters under his breath. "Fuck, I cannot believe you are gone."

"Miss me already?"

He takes another longer-than-normal pause. "Hell, no."

A sigh falls from my lips. "Then why did you call?"

"Because of your other letter."

"And?"

"It captured enough of my attention to resist plotting your downfall."

"How kind of you," I mutter.

"I am not being kind at all. I am going to be a fucking asshole. Nothing has been resolved between us. I simply see a mutually beneficial opportunity here. If I take you up on your offer, we will owe each other nothing except the results you have promised me. Make no mistake, our relationship will be strictly business. We have a common enemy. Once he is out of the picture, I want you out of my life as well."

Hope dares to rise despite the clear boundaries he has drawn between us. Nicco isn't rejecting me outright. Sounds like he's willing to consider my proposal. His tone is chilling, though. Detached and soulless. He's changed, I've changed, we've changed. An anguished pang echoes in me. His soul remains wicked. But it used to be warm. Full of life. So much so that he once showed me how to cheat death. Whenever I close my eyes, I can still feel the freeing rush of wind on my face as we flew down that endlessly dark night in Inverness, chasing after the stars.

For a moment, I think of Maya. Of Appa, too. Life is too short to hold grudges, and it's too unpredictable to take shit for granted. This is why I must do everything I can to repair the damage I've done. Yearning fills my soul even though I can't covet Nicco anymore.

Once trust is broken, it's almost impossible to repair.

Still, I can't help wondering if this means that Nicco will give me a chance to finally, finally, finally reveal every single skeleton in my closet, so we can make amends. I don't expect his forgiveness, but we could become quite formidable as allies. We grew into a seamless unit at Jackson & James once Nicco got his shit together and started doing his actual job. We could do it again in this fight against Jaime.

Jaime wouldn't stand a fucking chance, right?

Emboldened by this possibility, I demand, "Does this mean you're willing to work with me?"