NICCO

This fucker.

I am certain that Manning is gloating about what Aria has done with the Gravinski account. My fists tighten under the table even though the outward expression on my face remains calm. For now, I will let him feel superior. The more Manning views me as an unassuming idiot, he is less likely to suspect my hand in turning Juan Pablo's villa to ash.

Oliver's eyes dart between Aria and me. He decides to butt in, uninvited, and drawls, "Pardon the interruption, but I am very curious. What were you two discussing over there?"

"You were speaking with your assistant for an awfully long time," Clark observes with obvious ill intent. "I do hope everything is all right?"

Leaning back in my chair, I toss the question to my two-faced little diavola with a smirk, "Why don't you tell them about our conversation, Aria?"

I am testing her right now.

Will she side with me in front of these sharks?

Or continue clinging to Manning's coattails?

If Aria fails to turn the tables in my favor, it will set my mind at ease, and I will be able to set aside all the doubts she raised in me and focus on tapping into what the bitch knows about Juan Pablo. Then, after wringing out every last drop of intel, I will sever her from my life and never look back.

I stare expectantly at Aria. "Well?"

Not even breaking a sweat, she replies, "It would be my pleasure."

I watch her like obsessively as she faces Oliver and Clark. In a measured, tactful manner, Aria states, "Well, there was a lot to discuss. Mr. Vitale asked me to update him on everything he missed today. He is now all caught up."

She glances at Manning. "And, while I appreciate Mr. Manning's confidence in my abilities, most of the credit for the gains our department have achieved these past few months should be given to Mr. Vitale. In the short time we have worked together, I've learned so much from him on how to get results with less effort and more... efficiency."

Her words echo my earlier sentiment. Indignation darkens Manning and Chester's faces. It is clear Aria is taking a dig at them.

Oliver coughs. "Is that so?"

"Indeed."

"You seem to have a high opinion of your boss."

"The highest," she murmurs demurely.

I bite back a scoff. Aria is such a good little bullshitter. We both know that I was a walking liability when I first stepped into my role at Jackson & James. Without Aria's help, the entire department would have fallen to shambles. Yet, within seconds, she has managed to reframe the narrative to my advantage. I resent Aria's competence even though this is exactly what I wanted her to do. For the next hour or so, dinner continues to drag on in this way. We share more stats and business strategies with Oliver, Clark, Connor, and Terry while fending off Manning and Chester's attacks.

When Aria manages to dispel every one of Chester's criticisms about me and our department, he grows desperate and spits at her, "You like spreading your legs for Nicco, don't you, sweetheart?"

My jaw ticks.

Aria deadpans while her gaze flicks toward Chester's forehead, "And you like running your mouth as though there's a brain up there."

"So... you fucked him?"

Aria pales slightly, and I have heard enough. "Chester?"

"Yes, Nicco?"

I hold his gaze. "There is nothing inappropriate going on between my assistant and I. Speak to her like that again, and I will remove your tongue."

Chester's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as though he cannot tell if I am serious. "Relax, mate, it was just a joke."

I am not about to assault another man in front of witnesses. No one is that stupid. But what Chester does not know will not hurt him. Just to fuck with his head a little more, I grab my steak knife and proceed to give it a few theatrical spins between my thumb and forefinger. "Keep talking and see what happens."

The violence in my threat does not match the calmness of my voice, and the rest of our table eyes me with renewed interest. Chester promptly snaps his mouth shut while Aria casts me a stunned look as though to ask: Why are you defending me?

Unable to answer her, I avert my eyes.

Honestly?

Even I do not know why I defended her honor when she has none. I should just feed her to these wolves and watch them tear her apart. The punishment would certainly fit the crime.

"You seem a bit protective of your assistant there, Mr. Vitale," Manning observes.

I toss him a bored look. "I will always shield those who benefit my agenda. Aria is simply one of my many assets that are off-limits to assholes and idiots."

Growing frustrated with me, Manning eyes the diamond on Aria's finger and decides to shift targets, "What a lovely diamond, Ms. Senarath. I have never seen you wear it before. Does this mean that a congratulations is in order? Are you, perhaps, engaged?"

Again, everyone's eyeballs swivel toward her. Mine included. I await her answer with bated breath. Darkly, I wonder if she bragged to Manning as well when I proposed to her.

Aria smiles tightly and shrugs. "Sometimes a ring is just a ring. An accessory to complete the outfit. Nothing more, sir."

Her performance deserves a standing ovation. Listening to her speak with such detached conviction leaves me feeling hollow inside. I remember the night I slipped the ring on her finger like it was yesterday.

That night, I wanted to give her my everything.

Silently, I mourn the future we could have had together. Composure nearly slips away from me, but I hang on to my sanity for the sake of appearances. The CEOs fire another round of questions at us. By the end, Aria and I have managed to subdue the whole table with our combined prowess. It is maddening how well we work together when the demons in me wanted to see her fail. Even now, I am looking for an excuse to punish her.

As dinner comes to a close, the servers reappear to take our plates away, and Manning calls Aria to him for a quick chat. Immediately, I am triggered, but I do nothing to stop them. From the corner of my eye, however, I keep them in sight. Manning appears to be asking her questions, and Aria seems to be answering them.

What are they conspiring against me now?

When their discussion comes to end, Manning joins a few of his other friends. I see Aria inching over toward the blazer that is still hanging off of Manning's chair. As she walks by, I blink and almost miss the sleight of her hand sliding into one of his blazer pockets.

The fuck did she steal from Manning?

Aria moved so quick. I do not think anyone else saw her except me. Before I can wrap my head around what I just witnessed, Oliver approaches me. "Good evening, Mr. Vitale."

"Hello, Mr. Chastain."

"May I have a word with you?"

"Of course."

He leans over and drops his voice to a low murmur, "I respect the way you do business. I also like the way you refuse to take shit from anyone. After what I've seen tonight, I think you're exactly the man I need."

"For what, dare I ask?"

Oliver proceeds to beat around the bush, "As I'm sure you already know, Danmore Banks has been my family's legacy for generations."

With a touch of impatience, I grumble, "I am aware that you come from a long line of bankers, but what does it have to do with me?"

"I've been looking for a new director to lead our asset management team."

Interesting.

"Danmore has been one of our main competitors alongside J.M. Weiss for decades," I remark wryly. "What makes you think I will walk away from my family's legacy to work for yours?"

"Because I believe I possess something you want, and you have something I need." He then drops his voice to an even lower volume, whispering, "It has to do with the Beltráns."

Alarm rises in me as I repeat, "The Beltráns?"

"Yes," Oliver replies. "I'd like to extend a special invitation to you and your lovely assistant so we can discuss the details in a more private setting."

My interest is piqued at this point. The Chastains are well-connected, Oliver would make a valuable ally down the line, and he seems to know something about the cartel's activities.

Is Juan Pablo also trying to turn Danmore an instrument to wash his family's blood money into clean cash?

Even if we share a common enemy, I am not ready to give in to Oliver's whims so readily. I have never trusted anyone outside of mia famiglia, except for Aria, and look how that shit turned out for me.

I arch an eyebrow. "I was already planning to attend Manning's after-party on the third floor."

Oliver does not give up. I can tell he is trying to stroke my ego when he reveals, "Manning's event is not nearly as exclusive as mine. My get-together will be held in one of the penthouse suites. Just so you are aware, not everyone at our table received an invite. I'm curious to see what you're made of behind closed doors. If my instinct about you proves to be correct, I think we'll be able to win many battles together."

"Sounds like you are promising one hell of a night."

"Does this mean you will come?"

I do not answer Oliver right away even though I should go just to grill him about the Beltráns. I need to determine whether he is meant to become friend or foe.

The only drawback?

I am not a fan of these kinds of parties. Shocking, I know, given my hedonistic past. I may be no stranger to debauchery or chaos, but BDSM and MDMA are considered tame with this crowd. It is truly a depraved playground for the filthy rich. Nothing is off limits or too taboo as long as you have the millions to pay for your perversions. They sin in all nine circles of hell. I am talking kinks and persuasions that would make the diavolo retch. I have attended one or two of these coke-infused orgies during my time at Cambridge. They are a freak's paradise, and my only vices are boring in comparison: Fast cars and, apparently, backstabbing bitches with the grayest of eyes.

Speaking of the diavola.

She has returned to my side. My attention locks onto Aria, scrutinizing her some more. I missed my chance to punish her earlier. Perhaps, this party will allow me to discipline her in a completely different way. A coil of sadistic excitement snakes through me. My wayward cock stirs at the sudden imagery of bending Aria's sweet, supple body over my knee—flicking her clit and spanking her ass while finger-fucking her dripping wet hole—until her pussy weeps with remorse. Aria watches me with trepidation. As though she can sense my sinister intent, her sucks in a sharp breath.

Gray eyes grow wide when I turn to Oliver and tell him with the same detached conviction she used with Manning, muttering darkly, "We would not miss it for the world."