ARIA

I show up at Jackson & James on Monday morning, still a bit sore and tender between my legs. Real talk: When a guy like Nicco fucks you, you feel him everywhere the next day.

For better or worse, this past weekend unlocked something feral in me. Nicco is constantly on my mind, and my past is starting to seep through the cracks in my self-control.

The moment I walk out of the elevator and onto our floor, Megan, our receptionist, smiles and greets me. I smile back at her. A bit anxiously. I feel self-conscious even though I know I have no reason to be. No one's aware of what happened between Nicco and me this past weekend, and, as long as we keep our mouths shut and our pants on at work, no one will ever know. Our secret is safe. Everything's going to be fine.

Totally fucking fine.

I simply need to pretend like everything is normal and focus on kicking ass at my job as I've always done.

However, once I reach my cubicle, stilettos clicking loudly with each determined step, a rather graphic memory from my weekend fuckfest with Nicco flickers across my mind: I'm sitting on Nicco's face, moaning, writhing, sliding my clit against his eager tongue. He eats out my cunt while jacking himself off, his large, veiny hand is gripping his large, veiny shaft—

Oh, God.

Instant heat flares in me. Maybe separating business from pleasure isn't going to be as easy as I thought.

"Hey, Aria." Todd, one of the analysts, pops up behind me, making me jump a little. "Can you let Mr. Vitale know that I'll have an update on the Gravinski deal ready for him by 3 pm?"

Trying not to give anything away even though my brain is acting like a dirty whore, I reply in a pleasant, even manner, "Of course."

"Do anything fun this weekend?" he asks.

Hell, yeah.

My boss.

For a moment, I freeze. Todd doesn't suspect anything.

Right?

He can't. The guy didn't even go to happy hour with us. He's only making polite conversation.

Right?

"Not really. My weekend was pretty, um, uneventful," I mumble, feeling slightly paranoid.

He grins. "What a shame."

"I know, right?"

Through no small effort, I keep my expression friendly and neutral in front of Todd, powering through our small talk like a champ, calm, composed, as though our boss didn't just rail me in every possible position known to mankind this past weekend while making me scream his name every time my pussy convulsed around his massive pierced dick.

Thank goodness Todd is such a clueless sweetheart.

Or maybe I'm just a damn good liar.

***

Barely two days ago, I returned home for winter break.

"A boy came to our apartment today. He was looking for you," my mum shares. Disapproval is written all over her face. "He said his name was Jaime."

A chill travels down my spine.

Fuck.

He figured out where I live?

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

I feign confusion and insist as calmly as possible, "I don't think I know him."

"He says he goes to Hawkins as well. Jaime Ortega."

"Oh! Jaime Ortega?" I repeat with a lighthearted laugh, "I guess we're classmates. But I don't know him personally. It's not like we're friends or anything."

He's definitely not my friend.

And Jaime Ortega is definitely not his real name.

"Good," grunts my mum. "You know the rule, Aria."

I smile and nod like a good, obedient daughter. "Of course, Māma. No boys and no dating until college."

***

The moment Todd heads back to his cubicle, from the corner of my eye, I notice that Manning, of all people, is now barreling my way in quick, aggressive strides. He must be here for his rescheduled meeting with Nicco.

Oh, bloody hell.

The man might have apologized to me on Friday, but I doubt he meant a word of it. He probably resents Nicco for bullying him into doing it. I'm not in the mood to deal with an asshole of Manning's proportions right now, but, of course, he stops right in front of me.

"Ms. Senarath," Manning nods with a grunt.

I eye him with a wary expression. "Good morning, Mr. Manning. Should I let Nicco know that you're here for your meeting?"

Manning narrows his beady eyes. "That won't be necessary. I just spoke with him on the phone, and he's already expecting me. I'll show myself in."

"Very well."

Then, he smiles at me strangely. Like he might know something that I don't want him to know. It's making me hella uncomfortable.

"By the way, before I go..."

"Yes?"

For some reason, he decides to tell me, "I wanted to let you know that I'll be bringing in a very high-profile new client next week."

What does this have to do with me?

"Oh, how exciting," I murmur flatly. "Congratulations."

"I understand he might have been an old friend of yours."

Hold on—what?

My eyebrows rise up. "Really? What's his name?"

When Mr. Manning doesn't answer me, I get a bit nervous.

Could he be one of my classmates from Hawkins?

"You'll find out soon enough, Ms. Senarath," Mr. Manning assures me. His tone, however, feels anything but reassuring. "Have a good day."

Without waiting for me to respond, he turns away from me and continues into Nicco's office.

I frown.

The fuck was that all about?

I push this odd exchange out of my mind and get back to work on my laptop. About an hour later, Nicco's meeting comes to an end, and he promptly calls me into his office right after Manning leaves. My intercom buzzes, and Nicco's deep, accented voice travels through the speaker, "Can I see you for a moment, Aria?"

I find myself hitting the respond button right away. "Coming!"

I berate myself for replying so quickly. This agreement between us is supposed to be no strings attached, but I'm behaving like an infatuated teenager. An undeniable flutter runs through me as I approach his office. The sensation literally feels like butterflies in my stomach, and I've never experienced anything quite like it. Hell, I didn't think it would even be possible for my heart to feel such softness and light after what he did—

No.

Immediately, I block out the rising panic. The tide of memories. The hell that hides inside me.

I refocus on the here and now. I take a deep breath in. Let it out.

Slowly.

I do this several more times until I feel sane again. I glance around the office.

Yes.

That's better. Today will be the first time I've seen Nicco since we fucked. Here, in the office, he's my boss again, I'm his assistant, we're not allowed to cross these boundaries until the workday is done, and it's making me both nervous and excited because I have no idea what to expect.

Is Nicco planning to act like nothing happened between us?

Or will his every word and every move be filled with hidden innuendoes?

I enter through the sleek wooden door into his office. Nicco is sitting behind his desk, wearing an unreadable look on his gorgeous face. Our eyes meet from across the room. My stupid heart flutters once more as I hum, "You called?"

"I did."

"How was your meeting with Manning?"

A grimace settles across his face. "Everything I expected it to be. A pointless pissing contest between his department and ours."

"I'm sorry to hear it."

"But I did not call you in here to talk about Manning."

I stare at him blankly. "Why am I here, then?"

"Lock the door, Aria."

The suddenness of his command catches me by surprise. My brow wrinkles. "Why?"

"Maybe I have some sensitive company information to discuss with you."

"Do you, though?"

"The door," he insists again.

I hesitate. The idea of a locked door provokes something dark and sinister in me, and I'm not ready to fall down that rabbit hole again—

***

He locks the door to the classroom and glares at me. "Get on your knees, bitch."

Slowly, I drop to the ground. One knee hits the floor. Then the other.

He unzips his khaki trousers and pulls out his dick. It reeks of sweat and piss.

"Suck it," he orders. "Or I'll get you expelled."

I fight back the tears. I want to vomit. But I don't put up a fight. Because the last girl that rejected him ended up dead. She was my best friend. My only friend at Hawkins.

Her name was Maya.

***

My mind snaps back to reality.

What the hell is wrong with me today?

Blinking rapidly, I force myself to clear my head and focus on Nicco. Only Nicco. Nothing else.

He prompts me from my daze, "Are you going to lock it or not?"

There's nothing overtly inappropriate in Nicco's tone, but I can't help but shoot him a suspicious glare.

"We're at work in case you've forgotten," I remind him, sternly crossing my arms over my chest.

"Exactly," he confirms. "Aren't you supposed to do whatever I ask of you while we are at work?"

My cheeks flush warmly. I'm supposed to do whatever he asks of me in bed as well, but that's beside the point.

If you even think about touching yourself without my permission, then this arrangement between us is... over.

Apparently, I signed up to become Nicco's little bitch this weekend, but I didn't know that it was going to carry over beyond the bedroom as well.

Arching an eyebrow, I challenge him, "Am I?"

He shrugs. "That is up to you. I only give the orders."

I remark wryly, "It's all up to me, huh?"

"If you choose to place your trust in me, I promise, you will be compensated generously for your cooperation."

"Generously, huh?" I echo.

There's a devilish glint in Nicco's eyes when he nods. "But of course."

I glare at him.

He smiles back at me.

Finally, I do as he asks. I push aside my memories from Hawkins, turn down the blinds to block the view from the massive glass windows, and lock the fucking door to his office. Because I refuse to let my past ruin this moment with Nicco, and the depraved bitch in me kind of likes this naughty game my boss and I are playing right under everyone's noses.

Unlike the filthy, foul-mouthed bastard who fucked me raw this weekend, now, Nicco's whole attitude seems to be relatively professional and full of reason, but the way his gaze keeps lingering on me feels intentional as hell. His eyes continue to roam up and down my body as though he's imagining me naked. Except he doesn't have to imagine. He knows exactly what I look like when I'm bent over his kitchen counter, getting pounded from behind to the moon and back.

Coughing, I struggle to appear unaffected, but the temperature in the room is definitely heating up.

I glance at the locked door. "I thought we agreed to be... discreet?"

The corner of his mouth twitches. "Discreet—about what? I do not know what you are referring to at all. If nothing happened between us, there is no reason for us to be discreet about anything."

I catch his drift. "My thoughts exactly."

"I am glad we see eye to eye on this matter."

Clearing my throat again, I decide to focus on business. "Anyway, why did you call me in here?

With a completely straight face, Nicco informs me, "You are overdressed."

My eyes round out. "Excuse me?"

His eyes dance with mischief. "Take off one item of clothing. Hand it to me. Then, you can go."

Never-fucking-mind.

There's nothing professional or reasonable about this man.

"What the hell happened to discretion?" I growl.

"It is your choice. I am not forcing you," he taunts. I can tell he's baiting me. "You are free to walk away if you do not possess the balls to see this through."

His knowing gaze pierces mine. Tension simmers between us. My stupid ego takes his stupid bait. I refuse to back down when he's looking like such a smug bastard. If he wants to play, then let's fucking play. I intend to show my boss that I can beat him at his own game.

There's only one question on my mind: What can I remove without attracting any unwanted attention in the office?

Quickly, I run through the options in my head. Definitely not my dress shirt. Or my pencil skirt. Or my heels. Not my bra, either. The air conditioning is freezing inside the building, and the girls would definitely get a bit too nippy through the thin fabric of my shirt, which leaves me with only one option.

A determined gleam hits my eyes. I decide to make a show of it. To take back some control from my bossy-ass boss. The door is locked, after all. Smiling innocently, I saunter toward Nicco and sidle up beside him at his desk.

Placing a hand on either side of Nicco's armrests, I lean over his chair and murmur, "You do it."

His eyes darken with interest. "Do... what?"

I hold the bastard's gaze and reach over to grasp his hand, slipping it under the hem of my skirt. His breath catches as I guide him further up toward the lacy fabric near my inner thighs.

"Take them off," I whisper. "I dare you."