ARIA

His jet just landed in JFK, and he's on his way to pick me up.

As I wait for Nicco's arrival, I stand in front of The Meridian. The security team that he gifted me is lurking about five feet away. These days, they're always close by. When you dance along the razor's edge with criminals like Juan Pablo, danger embeds itself in every moment of your existence. He and I have been rolling in the dirt together for too long. There's no way I can walk away with clean hands and escape our crimes unscathed.

The money laundering.

The securities fraud.

The insider trading.

The tax evasion.

The bribery.

You name it, we're doing it. I've been collecting all the evidence to set him up for the fall once the timing's ripe. My plan should be foolproof save for one downside: Once I get ready to push the fucker over the edge, he won't hesitate to pull me down with him. I might go to prison, too. It's impossible to cover my tracks completely when I'm in so deep.

I can tell Juan Pablo is growing restless, no longer trusting me with critical tasks like he used to. I think Manning's betrayal has forced him to second-guess all of his alliances. As a result, my bodyguards have become a point of contention for us. Juan Pablo wants to replace them with his men. But I refuse to budge on this matter, so I keep making up excuses to delay his request. Juan Pablo's patience is running thin. He's growing increasingly suspicious about my loyalties even though I have yet to shove the knife in his back, so, wherever I go, Nicco makes sure that Collins, Miller, and Leo are never far away.

I'm glad they're around, I guess, but it took some time to get used to their round-the-clock presence. Now, the three of them, despite being such brawny, mean-looking brutes, have become as familiar as my own shadow. Over the last few months, I've gotten to know each of them—for better or for worse—and what they bring, individually, to the table rather well. Collins happens to have a talent for sending trained killers into the ICU with his bare hands, Miller can gun down any moving target within 100 yards, and Leo is as OCD about logistics and planning as me. As a team, they've managed to keep me safe while I continue to play a wolf in sheep's clothing around Juan Pablo.

As my bodyguards, Nicco's men are consummate professionals.

Truly the best of the best.

As my companions, however, the guys leave a lot to be desired. Long story short, they're driving me nuts, often acting more like three overbearing brothers who won't stop teasing and pranking me about everything under the sun.

Last month, Miller spammed my phone with endless cat memes until I blocked him for a full two hours. For no reason other than to annoy me.

Three weeks ago, Collins beat me in a game of Tetris and refused to let me live it down. Even though this was the first time he beat me in the hundreds of matches we've played against each other.

Two weeks ago, in retaliation to me barring Miller from sending any more cat memes, Leo bombarded my office with the most obnoxious, glittery cat stickers known to mankind. He put them everywhere. My wall calendar. My mousepad. My laptop screen. Nothing was safe. Nothing remained sacred. To this day, I still have glitter on my keyboard, for fuck's sake.

Then, a week ago, all three of them became obsessed with making fun of my obsession with dipping fries in mayo.

***

"Ketchup exists for a reason, you know."

"I feel sorry for your taste buds, Senarath."

"No potato should be allowed anywhere near that condiment."

"All three of you," I grumble, jabbing my finger in each of their stupid faces, "shut up, shut up, and shut up. I know the combo sounds gross, but don't knock the mayo until you've tried it, okay?"

"Ew."

"No."

"Hard pass."

***

Once they grew bored of mayo and fries, Miller and Collins started digging into my love of lists and spreadsheets. Only Leo defended me because he loves making them even more.

***

"There she goes again."

"Does she ever stop?"

"It's getting out of hand. Lists are for groceries. Spreadsheets are for accountants. But she uses them for everything. We need to stage an intervention."

"But then she might murder us if we take away her Excel."

"Do you think she would plot our deaths through a list or a spreadsheet?"

"Probably both."

"Guys, I can fucking hear you."

"Leave Senarath alone. You probably couldn't make a pivot table if your lives depended on it."

"Shut up, Leo. No one likes an ass kisser."

***

As we continue to wait for Nicco on the curb, Miller clears his throat. "Hey, Senarath."

"What, now?"

He shoots Leo and Collins a conspiratorial look. "Did you know?"

I give him a wary glance. "Hmm?"

"I've worked with the Vitales for three years."

Frowning slightly, I mutter, "Congrats. Want a pat on the back or something?"

"Collins has stuck around for five, and Leo has been their loyal dog for nearly ten."

My eyebrow arches. "You're telling me this because..."

Leo informs me in matter-of-fact tones, "Ten years is a long fucking time."

I side-eye him. "You don't say."

"For ten long years, the boss has been an unapologetically selfish, spoiled little shit," Leo dishes with savage relish. "But, then, he met you."

I wince once I realize where this conversation is headed. Nicco and I have yet to put any labels on our rekindled relationship. If you can even call it a relationship. We talk every day, but Nicco and I barely see each other since he's in London and I'm in New York. What we're doing is nothing serious, but it's impossible to hide our hook-ups from Collins, Miller, and Leo since they're always in the trenches with me.

Miller tags on, "I've never seen Nicco let any woman get under his skin the way you do."

I cast him a pointed look. "And how, pray tell, have I gotten under his skin?"
"He treats you like the be-all and end-all of his existence," answers Leo.

Collins chimes in, "You changed him, Senarath."

"Seriously!" Miller pipes up again, "His work ethic is insane nowadays. It's like he's desperate to prove something. To make something of himself outside of his Vitale name. Yet, despite this newfound dedication to his job, he willingly fucks up his schedule to reroute his flights and add a layover in JFK. I'm telling you. The man's crazy. He'll sit on a jet for an extra ten hours just to spend an extra hour with you."

Refusing to let my mounting giddiness take root, I counter demurely to remind myself that Nicco's off-limits, "Nicco only treats me well because he values my contributions to our partnership. He'll lose interest in me once Juan Pablo is behind bars."

With a shrewd gleam in his eyes, Miller tosses back, "Go ahead and bullshit yourself, but you can't bullshit us. We know how much the boss fancies you."

Playing dumb, I reply demurely, "I don't know what you idiots talking about."

"For such a smart lass, you can be quite daft at times," scoffs Collins. "You don't actually believe what you're saying, do you?"

"I believe Nicco wants to focus on our end game without getting sidetracked," I insist even though Collins' question gives me pause. "Therefore, I plan to stay in my lane for the foreseeable future even if we happen to enjoy each other's, ah, company from time to time."

"Get with the program, Senarath. Nicco has no intention to let you stay in your lane, but it's cute that you want to try."

"Just because Nicco has a soft spot for me doesn't mean he wants anything serious."

"Have you already forgotten? He fucking bought a piece of prime New York real estate to build an impenetrable high-tech security fortress around you."

"Better yet. He jumped into a fucking river and ruined his clothes for you. You know how the boss feels about Armani!"

Leo coughs. "Keep in mind. This is coming from a guy who can't remember half the names or faces of the women he used to date."

Collins retorts, "Admit it already! The boss isn't just serious about you. He's on his fucking knees for you."

Every precious detail that they're launching at me hits home. Something inside stirs. Long-buried emotions surge back to the surface. Like a fool in love, my chest can't help but swell with happiness.

Part of me already recognizes the magnetic pull between Nicco and me. It's undeniable. This wicked lure between us. Nicco must feel it, too. He must. For weeks, now, I did my best to ignore it. I needed to shield my heart from growing too hopeful.

Briefly, I glance down at my hand. A tightness closes around my heart. I don't need to remove my glove to know that it's no longer there. Ever since I lost Nicco's ring in that damn river, I've felt like several crucial pieces of myself went missing as well.

My dream of everything we could've been.

My freedom to love him until death do us part.

My reminder to atone for my sins.

Gone.

All gone.

Lost in cold, dark waters.

Our broken bond is beginning to mend, but I know he's still hurt, and we're not done healing. I know I don't have a right to lay claim on Nicco. Not after everything I did to him. He deserved the world, and I broke his fucking heart.

Collins' voice cuts into my heart-wrenching reverie, "Want to know what I think?"

I wrinkle my nose. "No."

He tells me, anyway, "Nicco has no interest in maintaining the status quo. He wants more from you."

"Agree to disagree."

Nicco is interested in being fuck buddies again. That much I know. I don't dare to ask for more.

Miller drawls, "O ye of little faith."

"I'm being realistic," I correct him. "Not too long ago, Nicco wanted to gouge his eyes out at the sight of me."

"He doesn't feel that way anymore."

"Maybe not," I sigh. "But that doesn't mean that he's in love with me."

"You sure about that?"

Eyes wide, I begin to sputter, "I-I really don't think that he lov—"

"Just don't hurt him again," Collins warns. "Or else you'll have to answer to us."

The worry behind his threat is sweet yet no longer unnecessary. I'm grateful these three have Nicco's back, but what they don't know is that I'd walk through hellfire for this man.

Steady and unwavering, I stare back at Collins and vow, "I'll protect him with my life."

He furrows his brow. "Does this mean you love... him?"

"I don't deserve him."

"But do you love him?"

I do.

I scoff to hide my vulnerability, "That's none of your business."

"Boo."

"You're no fun."

"Heartless woman."

"Don't get me wrong. I care for Nicco. Deeply. I just don't expect him to feel the same way."

"You sure you're not in love with him?"

"All I want is to be there for Nicco," I assure him in a small voice, "as much as he'll let me."

Judging by their expressions, the three of them appear satisfied with my answer.

"Good."

"That's our girl."

"Don't disappoint us, Senarath."

Suddenly, my face feels a bit too warm in this cold weather, and my pulse is racing a bit too fast for someone who has been standing still this whole time. I don't know what to make of the recent developments between Nicco and me.

Does he trust me again?

Most likely.

He even apologized for not trusting me after I proved myself through Sossaman-Hewitt.

Does he care for me?

I think so.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have dove into that icy cold river to save me or spent hundreds of millions on The Meridian.

But has he truly forgiven me?

I don't know.

Does he want something more for us?

I don't know, either.

After saving me from drowning, Nicco claimed that he never hated me. But the bastard hasn't said that he loves me, either. It's too hard to read him and too soon to tell how things will develop between us. These things take time. Right now, we don't have the time to worry about anything else except Juan Pablo. All I know is that I love Nicco, but, given our complicated past and uncertain future, I don't want to place any expectations on him.

Or us.

Nicco may welcome me in his bed, but I doubt he'll let me in his heart again. Even if he beckons me to come closer, I don't know if I should cross the line. At the end of this precarious charade, I could very well end up in prison with Juan Pablo. It wouldn't be fair to initiate something with Nicco only to abandon him after getting arrested and locked up. For now, I don't want to speculate or obsess over unknowns. I won't push him away anymore. But I won't cling, either. I'll simply hope for the best and go with the flow.

Our flow.