ARIA

"Tell me what happened here. Per favore. I want to know."

"There's not much to say," I mumble. "Life fucks with everyone, don't you think? My scars just happen to be... visible."

Eyes thinning, Nicco shuffles on the mattress and scoffs in my direction, "Bullshit."

He's right.

I am full of shit. Feeling much too seen, I avert my eyes and pull the blanket up to cover my breasts. Darkness surrounds us. The shadows in Nicco's bedroom make it easier to hide from his piercing gaze. I wish to shrink into the dark—and disappear—just to avoid his questions.

To my surprise, Nicco follows up in an uncharacteristically quiet, serious manner, asking, "Why won't you trust me?"

My eyelids flutter. His question is unexpected. As diplomatically as possible, I reply, "This isn't about trust."

"No?"

"No."

In truth, I already trust this beautiful green-eyed man who makes my heart flutter and fucks me senseless. Far more than I should.

Nicco counters, "Yet, you always hold back."

"I thought we agreed to keep things casual between us?"

The edge of his mouth tilts up. "We can keep fucking as casually as you want, but I would like to know you better as a friend."

I frown. "We see other almost every fucking day at work. I think we know each other well enough by now."

"What if I were to reveal something about myself first?" Nicco proposes gently. "Would it put you more at ease?"

His offer call to me. I am a lonely moth to his warm, welcoming flame, and, for a purely reckless moment, I no longer care about getting burned. I gaze at him longingly.

"Maybe," I mutter as I fight the urge to burrow my face into Nicco's chest.

"Ask me anything, Aria, and I will give you the truth."

I echo, "Anything?"

"Anything."

Really?

This entire evening is throwing me for a fucking loop, to say the least. I don't know what to make of Nicco's shifting moods. First, he was hot. When he surprised me with gifts and dinner. Then, he was cold. When he refused to let me kiss him.

Now, all of a sudden, he wants to become Best Friends Forever?

Intently, I glance down at Nicco's hand. He's still tracing the faint, tallied lines on my belly. Five in total. Pleasurable shivers dance across my skin. The whispering touch of his fingertips soothes me. Such tenderness further overwhelms my defenses, melting them away, and the way he keeps looking at me is downright addictive. I can't help wanting more from him and feeling curious about him, too.

If I make a conscious effort to not touch on anything too personal, there's no harm in us simply talking, right?

My resolve wavers as I soften my stance on our no-strings-attached agreement. Just a little. "Before I ask you anything, I want to say something."

"Uh-oh."

"Don't worry. Nothing bad. Just the opposite, actually. It's something I quite admire about you."

He quips, "I suppose I should not surprised. I was born with many admirable qualities, after all."

I laugh. "Your humility, especially, brings a tear to my eye."

"Just one tear?"

"Maybe two drops," I tease. We share another chuckle. Then, the truth falls from my lips before I can even process it, shocking even me as each word tumbles forth, "But, in all seriousness, I've noticed from our very first meeting that you're always so unapologetically yourself. I wish I could be more like you. I've never been able to fully let my guard down. How... do you manage it?"

"Out of anything you could ask me," grunts Nicco, "that is what you choose?"

Sheepishly, I nod. "Boring, I know. Answer me, anyway?"

"I guess," he drawls with an amused look, "I care more about living the way I want than how others feel about my choices."

"I think I care too much about what everyone thinks of me."

"I should probably care more. Like you," Nicco sighs. "For the record, my way of doing things comes with a cost. My parents view me as selfish and irresponsible, and they are constantly looking for ways to bend me to their will. The only reason I am pretending to work at Jackson & James right now is because my father threatened to cut me off by the end of this month."

My mouth forms a surprised O. "No fucking way."

Nicco grimaces and mirrors my reply, "Yes fucking way."

Who knew the Vitales would be the type of family to sever ties with one of their own?

Briefly, I contemplate whether his parents' motives are born from spite or tough love. "Do you think he'll go through it?"

"My father isn't the kind of man who makes idle threats."

I glance around his ritzy penthouse apartment with a worried pinch between my brow. "Will you be able afford all of this next month?"

"Most likely not," he laments with another sigh. "I may need you to help me find new living accommodations."

As his assistant and his friend, I nod readily, "Of course."

"All I will have is my pitiful salary to live off of..."

Pitiful?

My sympathies for him wane when I remember that Nicco's impressive six-figure salary should be more than enough to maintain a comfortable standard of living even without access to his family's billion-dollar fortune.

"Can't say I blame your dad." I chide, "You are a little spoiled."

Nicco reaches over to give my brow a playful flick. I wince. "Ouch!"

"You are supposed to be on my side," Nicco grumbles. He then leans over to kiss it better, pressing his lips to my forehead. "Did I hurt you, baby?"

He didn't hurt me at all, but I pout, anyway. "Yes."

An apology shines from his eyes. "Forgive me?"

"Kiss me again," I murmur, "then, maybe, I'll forgive you."

Nicco does just that, and, when his mouth brushes against my forehead a second time, I can't help but smile.

"All better?"

I nod, a bit shyly. "All better."

Nicco pulls me closer, and I rest my cheek on his chest. We lay together in a comfortable lull before curiosity gets the better of me once more.

What's his family really like?

Quietly, I find myself asking, "Nicco?"

"Hmm?"

Grimly, I wonder if his parents are anything like mine?

An uncomfortable weight pulls at my chest at the thought of Māma and Appa and everything they expect of me. "Do you ever resent your mum and dad?"

He shrugs. "My parents' nagging and underhanded methods annoy me, sure, but, deep down, I know they mean well, so, no, I do not resent them."

"It sounds like you actually have a decent relationship with your parents," I observe with a touch of wistfulness.

"My relationship with my parents is far from perfect, but famiglia is everything. Gun to my head? I would do anything for them."

The surety and intensity in his voice strike a chord in me. I've always felt disconnected from Māma and Appa. In truth, I want what Nicco has with his family. "You're lucky to share this kind of a bond with your family."

Nicco picks up on everything I left unsaid, "Correct me if I am wrong, but it seems your parents have disappointed you, no?"

I give him a tight smile. "I guess you could say that. I wish we could communicate better, but I gave up trying a long time ago."

"Do not look so down, Aria. You never know when they might surprise you," he supplies kindly. "Life is not set in stone."

"Life is full of change, you're right," I hum, "but people are also stubborn as hell. They tend to stay the same no matter what."

"You do not think change is possible?" he asks.

I mull over his question for a moment. "Only if someone wants it bad enough."

A thoughtful look passes over Nicco's handsome face. "A wise person once told me that—in order to survive the seasons, we must change with them."

I take a moment to consider its meaning. "I don't disagree, but, even then, change can be difficult. It is such a personal choice. Most people aren't strong enough to change with the seasons. They pretend it is spring even when the ground is frozen with ice and snow."

When I say "most people," I'm talking about myself.

His eyes flicker in the shadows. "Perhaps, you are right."

"I... am?"

He nods. "People cling to the familiar even when it is not good for them. Tragedy, I believe, may be the only time when real, lasting change is possible. The sky literally needs to fall, and the world must burn to ash in order for a person to even contemplate deviating from their original path."

I listen closely. To experience this quieter, more introspective side of Nicco feels like a breath of fresh air. It makes me think that, despite his luxe, privileged upbringing, he must have grown up around some grounded individuals with clear heads and sage hearts.

Genuine intrigue sparks in me as I inquire, "May I ask who this wise person might be? The one who gave you such good advice."

Nicco grins. "She is my family's housekeeper. Malina has been with us for decades, and the woman is more like family than my own grandmother."

"I like your Malina. Sounds like she knows what she's talking about."

His expression softens. "I think she would like you, too."

In the black of the night, we gaze at one another for an intimate moment.

"Aria?"

"Yes?"

His fingers caress the lines on my belly once more. "I have answered your question. Now, do you think you can answer mine?"

Not this again.

But, admittedly, my resolve has since wavered. Nicco makes me feel as though there's something worthwhile inside me, after all. I'm tempted to open up for the first time in forever. I've been so alone these past few years. Who I am and the person I have become for survival's sake are not one and the same. Maya's death forced me to become stronger than I really feel. I'm tired of pretending to be fine when everything inside feels so utterly fucked. At this point, the pain inside is becoming unbearable.

Like the devil's advocate, a voice inside urges: Just tell him the truth.

There's not much more to hide, anyway. Nicco has already seen my scars. And my tears. He even heard me call out Jaime's name in my sleep.

Hesitantly, I admit, "I think I told you before, right? My time at Hawkins was pretty awful."

His fingers tighten on my waist. "Is that where you got these markings? At your old school?"

"Yes," I whisper.

"Who did this to you?"

Jaime.

His name nearly slips from my tongue. However, I catch myself and say instead, "Every school has bullies."

Nicco growls, "This shit goes far beyond bullying, Aria."

I let out a shaky breath. "It was years ago. Whatever happened at Hawkins doesn't matter anymore. I just want to move on and never look back."

"Your past matters to me."

"Why?"

Nicco reaches over to cup my cheek. "Because you are clearly still hurt by it."

His eyes brim with concern, so much so that I feel overcome by it. I'm not ready to let him in. My lips flatten to a straight line. Instantly, I feel as though I've said too much. Ever since the first day we met, Nicco has possessed this way of unraveling my hard-won control and bringing out the best and the worst in me. Around him, more and more of my true self keeps coming out in all its broken, fucked up glory.

My defenses rise up again as I snap, "Don't pretend like you know me or understand what I've been through."

Hurt flashes in Nicco's eyes. "My apologies, I did not mean to overstep."

"I'm pretty tired. Can we please go back to sleep?" I suggest in softer tones, immediately regretting my harsh attitude with him. "We still have work tomorrow."

"Very well," Nicco relents with obvious reluctance. "Good night, Aria."

I close my eyes and roll away from him, whispering, "Night."

The last thing I want is to distance myself from Nicco, but I force myself not to touch him for the rest of the night. I don't deserve his warmth or the feel of his arms around me. I can't grow accustomed to such treatment because Nicco and I have no future together. We are a temporary fling. Once my assignment as his assistant ends, we can still be friends, but I'll go back to my old position as an analyst, and, knowing him, he'll move on to bigger and better things.

The thought of giving him up, however, pains me.

Sleep is now the furthest thing from my mind. My head continues to battle with my heart. I no longer know what I want from Nicco, and that, in and of itself, terrifies me.