ARIA

Why the hell did Nicco have to blindfold me?

No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to convince him to spill the fucking tea. His lips are stubbornly sealed. Hell, he won't even let me remove the blindfold. The control freak in me hates giving up control. Frustration mounts inside. Ten minutes later, I still can't see shit, but, at last, I sense the Benz slowing to a complete stop.

Trying not to sound too excited, I ask, "Have we finally arrived?"

"SÌ."

Every beat inside my chest hammers away with anticipation. A hum starts vibrating in my purse, fussing like an insistent child for attention, but I ignore my phone. My entire focus belongs to him.

I let Nicco guide me out of the backseat. When the car door swings open, a waft of cold air hits my face. Replaying the distances traveled between the number of left and right turns that were taken, I attempt to find my bearings. I'm almost positive that we're near Murray Hill.

After exiting the vehicle, Nicco and I walk a short distance before the wintry chill is replaced by a feeling of warmth. I hear doors shut behind us. I don't think we're outside anymore. We must have entered some kind of building. My phone vibrates a second time. Once more, I pretend not to notice.

I'll check it later.

Nicco walks beside me, his arm wrapped around my waist as he guides me down a corridor of sorts. With my vision obstructed, other senses come alive.

Sound.

Our footsteps echo across hardwood floors. The rhythmic thuds travel through a seemingly vast chamber, bouncing off of endlessly tall ceilings and stretching across infinitely spacious rooms.

Smell.

The earthy scent of worn leather and old books. There's something comforting about this smell. It reminds me of the library back at Hawkins. That place. Those books. The countless hours I spent tucked away in the study room on the third floor. They provided my only respite from Juan Pablo's tyranny.

Touch.

Never breaking contact, I follow Nicco, trusting him completely even while curiosity threatens to drive me mad.

"Am I being kidnapped?" I demand half-jokingly.

"Hell, yes." Nicco pulls me nearer, encasing my body protectively against his muscled frame. I feel his lips press against my temple as he kisses me tenderly. "Will you let me take you?"

Melting into him, I whisper, "Only if you promise to never let go."

"Done."

Within the same second, the ground vanishes beneath my feet as Nicco scoops me up, carrying me over-the-threshold style—one of his arms supports my back while the other cradles my legs—to an unknown destination inside this mysterious building.

My body jostles in his arms as we change directions. "Just tell me where we're going already. Please?"

More echoing footsteps. "Why don't you take a guess?"

Knowing he probably won't acknowledge it even if I guess correctly, I hum in noncommittal tones, "Disneyland?"

He snickers. "What are you... five?"

I scoff. "Fuck you."

"Nothing would please me more than to have you fuck me."

"Then beg for it."

"If I beg," Nicco murmurs, "would you give me whatever I want?"

"Right now?"

"SÌ."

"Right here?"

"SÌ."

Color me intrigued, but I need a little more convincing. "What makes you think that I'll give in when you're being so difficult? You haven't answered any of my questions. I don't even know where you've brought me."

"That is what makes it exciting, no?"

My memories snap back to the depraved orgy at Oliver's penthouse party.

Is anyone watching us?

Both ears perk up again. Listening for clues. Wherever he's taken me—it's quiet here. I could hear a pin drop.

Still, in the back of my mind, I can't help but wonder, "Are we... alone?"

"Maybe," he teases.

"Fucking hell."

"Maybe not."

The need to know is killing me. "Can I take off my blindfold, at least?"

He rejects my request, "Keep it on."

"But—"

"Still trust me, principessa?"

Despite my misgivings, I mutter, "I do."

Nicco sets me down along the edge of a hard surface. He's standing. I'm sitting. I feel his body brush against mine, settling between my thighs. His palms are caressing my hips. One of his hands trails down my thighs. My pussy throbs. Ghosting his fingertip up and down, he teases me over the delicate lace of my panties. Pleasure courses through my veins.

I shiver in anticipation when he reveals, "I want to give you my all, and I expect the same in return. Only then can we become... unbreakable."

Perhaps, what has been broken can be mended into something even stronger. This is what I want for us, too. It's the best news I've heard in ages.

My heart soars. "Everything I am is yours, Nicco."

"Good fucking girl."

"Tell me what you want," I demand.

He mimics our exchange from moments ago, "Right now?"

"Yes."

"Right here?"

"Yes."

In low, husky tones, Nicco promises, "I want to bury myself between your legs and fuck the shape of my cock into your pussy. Until you feel every thrust in your soul. Until your sweet, little hole is so hot and wet and soaked with my come that you cannot decide whether to beg for more or beg for mercy."

The dark heat in his voice nearly melts my core. It becomes clear to me, then. This maddening game Nicco wishes to play is all about trust. The unbreakable kind. He wants to see how far I'll let him push my boundaries to forge us back together. I can't tell if I should be worried. Or turned on. Either way, I'm ready to give whatever he wants from me if I can reclaim just a little piece of his heart.

"Will you be mine, principessa?"

"There's nothing I want more," I confess softly, still blind, still defenseless, as I entrust him with my very being, "than to be yours."

With a happy groan, his mouth crushes my lips. I feel breathless. Lightheaded. Pleasure ignites. Tongues dance. Clothes fall away, but, through it all, my blindfold stays on. I don't care where we might be anymore. I don't even care about who may watching us. I feel cherished and safe with him. Vaguely, I think I hear the hum of my phone nearby.

For the third time in the past ten minutes, I ignore it.

The world fades. I'm only aware of him. His heat. His scent. His breath. Even though I can't see anything, Nicco and I move in sync. He knows how to please me. I know how to touch him. We know one another's bodies so well. Every needy roll of my hips, every delicious flick of his fingers, every fucking movement thrums with a harmonious kind of wickedness.

Hands roam and tease and touch, caressing each other's most intimate curves and lines. He's everywhere at once. Plucking my nipples. Massaging my breasts. Rubbing my clit. My fingers close around his dick, rubbing, tugging, pleasuring. His teeth sink into the crook of his shoulder, nipping my flesh like a beast claiming his bitch. I moan in sweet submission. He's working me into a frenzy, and I'm driving him mad as well. I feel him, hard and ready, pressing against my inner thighs. Nicco enters me in one hard, slick thrust. He's too big. He's not enough. My cries echo through a cavernous space.

Where the hell are we, anyway?
I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

Pleasure overtakes all other senses. Our bodies merge as one, moving in the age-old rhythm of lovers and sinners. I submit. He conquers. Trust burns between us.

Bright.

Fiery.

Beautiful.

He fucks me hard. Standing between my thighs as his fingers dig into my hips. He takes me slow. From behind as I'm bent over with my tits crushed against a hard surface. We're both a little banged and bruised up from the strain and exertion, but his roughness and my reckless abandon only add to the excitement. I forget how many times we made each other come. All I know is that I'm a panting, sobbing, euphoric mess by the time Nicco removes his silk tie from my eyes.

I blink as my vision adjusts to take in my surroundings. Thousands of books, stretching from floor-to-ceiling shelves across three stories, surround me. The painted murals all over the arched ceilings remind me of the Sistine Chapel. Across the room, a gorgeous candlelit dinner has been set up for us. I see all of my favorites at the table. Chicken biryani. Nigerian suya. Among a handful of other mouth-watering dishes. Every single one looks expertly plated. Irresistibly aromatic. It's one of the most breathtakingly romantic sights I've ever witnessed.

I'm in awe. "Did you prepare all of those for... me?"

"Of course."

"I can't believe you remembered everything that I love to eat."

"I remember everything about you, principessa," he retorts, "it is kind of an unhealthy obsession."

I laugh because I'm obsessed with him, too. I glance around our surroundings again, letting it all sink in. The shelves upon shelves of stories. The dark, moody woods. The grandeur of the architecture. The infinite worlds and thoughts and ideas tucked between the book covers. It feels like I've walked into a dream.

I don't smile. I fucking beam. "I don't know if you recall this about me, but..."

"What?"

"I used to hate everything about Hawkins, you know, except their library."

"You told me," he adds on, "it was because real life tends to be so brutal. Stories made you feel safe. Happy endings were a given, heroes triumphed over evil, and love conquered all."

Surprise flutters within me.

"Damn," I exclaim softly. "I guess you do remember."

Word for word.

His mouth quips. "There is something timeless about old libraries, no?"

Elated, I agree, "They're pure magic. I've always loved the feelings they inspired in me. The freedom. To slip into someone else's life. The escape. From my own fucked up existence."

"You do not have to run from anyone or anything," he urges. "Stand tall and stand your ground. You have me, now, by your side."

Hope stumbles through doubt as I gaze into his eyes. "Do I... have... you?

Nicco smiles. "You do. I will free you from everything that has ever held you down."

Feeling flustered, I break eye contact first. My gaze drifts around the library some more. "God, this place is so beautiful. I'm in love."

"Love, you say?"

The word swirls between us.

Softly.

Slowly.

Sweetly.

A bit shyly, I nod. "Thank you for bringing me here."

He follows my gaze around the seemingly endless shelves of books. "You are welcome. "

Curiosity prompts me to ask, "Why did you wish to come here, though? Of all places?"

He winks. "Perhaps, I was looking for a new beginning to our story."

"Really?"

"Or, perhaps, I wanted to remind you of something important."

"Which is?"

"You once told me a man that only exists in fiction was your kind of man. Someone who can fuck your brains out, bring you to your knees, and make you feel like the most precious woman he has ever possessed."
Shit.

He remembered those ridiculous things I said as well.

I feel like I might burst with emotion. "Oh, Nicco..."

There's no question in my mind. He's absolutely my fictional dream in the flesh. He fucks my brains out. He makes me feel so utterly precious. I'm about to fall on my knees for this man.

To my surprise, however, he beats me to the punch.

With zero warning, Nicco bends his knee as he lowers himself before me. Like a knight pledging allegiance to his lady. He pulls a small velvet box from the pocket of his discarded trousers. My eyes grow even wider. A gray diamond ring sparkles back at me.

My gray diamond ring.

The very one that I lost in the river.

"This, I believe, belongs to you."

I stare at Nicco in astonishment. At first, the significance of his gesture doesn't ever register. I'm too ecstatic about the ring.

Squealing in delight, I throw my arms around his shoulders and pepper kisses all over his face. "Oh, my God! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I-I thought it was gone forever! How did you even find it?"

"I will tell you later."

"Later?"

He smiles wryly. "You must answer my question first."

I freeze up. "What... question?"

With one knee planted firmly on the floor, Nicco gazes up at me. "Will you marry me, principessa?"