ARIA

"I-I'm not lying."

Nicco glares at me like I'm breaking his heart. "I know about the package you received for your father. Tell me what is going on. Per favore. Give me a reason to believe you."

My resolve begins to waver. I want to tell him everything.

But, I remind myself, I'm about to commit a felony, and Jaime might very well kill me if I fuck up.

Just because I'm willing to gamble with my life doesn't mean I should force Nicco to risk his neck alongside mine. Over and over again, I cling to my mantra like a prayer.

The less Nicco knows, the safer he'll be.

The less Nicco knows, the safer he'll be.

The less Nicco knows, the safer he'll be.

Feeling like I'm being put under criminal prosecution, I try my best to appease his anger without giving too much away, "You're right. I should've mentioned the package to you. At the time, though, I didn't think it was a big deal. Nelson only delivered it to me because my dad's currently out of the country."

"Did you open it?"

"Yes."

His broad shoulders grow square and tense. "What was inside?"

"A phone."

My response seems to relax him a little. "Who was it from?"

"I don't know."

"I find it interesting that a complete stranger would want to send your father a phone."

Nicco's remark throws me for a loop. I know I'm supposed to be protecting Nicco by keeping the truth from him. Yet, circumstances keep changing by the second, and my strategy must change with it. I'm beginning to realize that I can't outright lie to Nicco. He's too smart to be fed bullshit, and I suspect that he's testing me. Otherwise, we wouldn't be having this conversation. He's simply refusing to reveal his hand right this moment, but I know he knows something. I debate fighting fire with fire. I may be keeping shit from Nicco, but he's probably keeping shit from me, too. I have the right to interrogate him over the fact that he's very possibly blackmailing Manning and his men into submission.

After some consideration, however, I pivot from attacking Nicco's weak point and decide, instead, to give him the partial truth, "It's possible that my dad might be involved in some shady shit."

I don't want to force Nicco to open his Pandora's Box. Because then I'll feel obligated to open mine.

Nicco cocks an eyebrow. "Why would you say such a thing about your own father?"

"A gut feeling, I guess." Toeing the line, I answer as upfront as possible without spilling every drop of the tea, "Knowing my dad, he'll do anything to further his career. Ethics be damned. It makes me worry that my dad might have been willing to bend a few laws to earn some points with his higher-ups."

Nicco's eyes flash shrewdly. "Does this mean he knows something about the Gravinski account?"

Shit. My suspicions were on point. Nicco knows. Oh, he knows.

I cough and look away. "I don't know about my dad's involvement with that particular account, but I might have heard Manning mention it once or twice."

Nicco regards me with renewed suspicion. "I was not aware that you spoke to Manning recently."

I try to shrug it off. "Only in passing."

"Ah."

"I don't know much about the Gravinski account, but I can look into it if you wish."

Nicco gives me a long, calculating look before urging, "You do that."

I begin sizing him up as well.

Exactly how much does Nicco know about Manning and the Gravinski account?

Does he know more about them than I do?

Or less?

With a cautious expression, I assure him, "I'll let you know if I find anything."

The stress alone from these past five minutes has probably stolen several years from my life. Anxiety pounds alongside every heartbeat. The line I'm treading between Nicco and Jaime is being stretched dangerously thin. One wrong move or one misspoken reply, and this delicate thread of trust between us might snap.

To make matters worse, Nicco doesn't appear to be anywhere near done with grilling me. Gruffly, he asks, "Is your father still in Shanghai?"

"I believe so."

His eyes flicker strangely. He continues to scrutinize me. "Are you sure?"

I frown. "Of course."

"When was the last time you spoke to him?"

"Two days ago."

"Can you call him right now?"

"I can try," I offer anxiously, not knowing why Nicco want to get in touch with Appa so suddenly. "But he might be asleep because of the time difference."

His jaw clenches. "Just call him."

"Fine."

The full weight of Nicco's gaze falls on me as I pull out my phone to dial Appa's number. There's no ring, though. A concerned frown mars my face. Appa doesn't pick up, either. I wonder if my call is being redirected to his voicemail. Instead, the unthinkable happens. My pulse quickens with fear when an automated recording notifies me in terrifyingly ominous tones, "The number you have dialed has been disconnected."

***

NICCO

My sister kept her word. For the past two weeks, Vivi has been surveying Aria's every move at Jackson & James via the employee monitoring software installed on our laptops, and, much to my relief, only one minor concern was flagged.

"I thought you should know," my sister starts with a furrowed brow, "Aria has been using your login and password to access files and documents that are above her pay grade. To be fair, she is not abusing her privileges, she seems to be using the data for legit reasons on upcoming reports and presentations, but this laxness in security worries me, nonetheless."

"Do not be alarmed," I reassure Vivi. "I gave her permission to use my login and password back when I was planning to ditch Jackson & James for a life of leisure. Aria was obsessed with work, and I hated it. At the time, this arrangement seemed like the perfect compromise for both of us."

"So, you offloaded your managerial duties to Aria?"

"Basically."

Vivi clicks her tongue in disapproval. "Have you no shame?"

I grin. "None. Whatsoever."

"For someone who shares my impeccable genes," Vivi murmurs, "I am often amazed by the limitless bounds of your stupidity."

"Words hurt, Vivi."

"You mean, the truth hurts?" she attempts to correct me. "There are so many red flags with this scenario that I do not even know how to count them."

"I think we have far bigger problems to deal with first," I remind her, "like preventing the Beltráns from using our bank as their own personal money laundering service."

Vivi huffs, "But failing to safeguard Jackson & James' intellectual property will only make it easier for the Beltráns to carry out their agenda. You are putting everything at risk each time Aria logs into the system under your name."

I mutter, "Might I remind you? You have been keeping a close eye on my fiancée, and even you admitted that she has not been abusing her privileges."

"Aria may not be guilty of anything—yet—but she still cannot be trusted. Change your password right now and tell her that she cannot use your account anymore."

"I will get around to it."

"No," Vivi insists, "get it done today."

Even after I try again to dismiss Vivi, she refuses to stand down. Logically speaking, my sister is right. Under these circumstances, the risk clearly outweighs the reward. Nothing good will come from Aria continuing to use my account. Unfortunately, there remains a stupid, irrational desire that refuses to budge. Maybe there is a part of me that wishes to continue giving Aria a chance to fuck me over. If she takes the bait, then I will be put out of my misery. Only then will I finally know, once and for all, whether or not Aria can be trusted.

"I know you have a soft spot for Aria, but you are letting your dick rule your head," my sister chides sternly. "Do not be a dickhead. You know better than to let some woman dictate your decisions."

I argue, "If Aria wanted to take advantage of this situation, she would have done so by now. Just like you said, she only uses the account to help me prepare for shit I do not have time to prepare for."

"Maybe she is biding her time."

I roll my eyes. "Jackson & James forced Aria to sign an iron-clad NDA when she was hired. Our lawyers would shred her to ribbons if she ever sold the bank's confidential information for personal gains."

"By the time our lawyers get to her," Vivi counters, "the damage will already be done."

Scowling, I ask, "Your flight leaves this afternoon. Do you really want to use your final hours in London arguing with me about this shit?"

At last, Vivi appears ready to drop the matter when she sighs, "When this all blows up in our faces, do not expect me to clean up your mess."

My sister's warning hits home. A trickle of unease slips down my spine. Two weeks ago, I thought I would be able to rest easier after interrogating Aria.

Please have more faith in me.

On my end, I did not get the sense that she was lying to me.

Everything I'm doing may not seem to make much sense.

Nor did I feel like she means to betray me.

I swear to you, Nicco, there's a method to my madness.

Yet, I still suspect that Aria has not been revealing the full scope of what she knows. Obsessively, I keep replaying our exchanges in my head. Hidden meanings lurk in every one of Aria's words. Ulterior motives shift with each of her expressions. Aria claims that she wants me to trust in her methodical madness. But her behavior remains incredibly suspicious. My girl has been damn near impossible to read, it is beginning to drive me a bit mad, and I wish—

The trilling rings of my phone begins to chime. Eyes widening like a daydreamer awakening from slumber, I pull myself from my reverie to answer the call, "Pronto."

Vivi silently mouths to me, Who is it?

Monte, I mouth back.

Through the receiver, Monte tells me, "I have done as you requested, Nicco."

Now that Manning's network is toppling like a gust of wind pushing over a house of cards, I asked Monte to start looking into Alvin Beltrán's son in earnest. I must know my enemy in order to defeat him: What he has done in the past. What he is planning at present. What he hopes to achieve in the future.

"Tell me about our new friend."

"Juan Pablo Beltrán grew up in Cali, Colombia, but his father sent him to the US as a child for school. He only has a few misdemeanors on file, but I believe a good portion of his criminal records has been sealed. I am sure he did not spend a year in federal prison over a few minor assault charges."

"How did he get out early?"

"With enough money and the right connections," Monte sighs, "even the Devil can get into heaven."

My expression darkens. "I want to know more about the tapes. Did you find out where he is storing the files?"

"After some investigation, I do not believe Juan Pablo would ever save the files online."

"Why not?"

"Like father, like son. Alvin Beltrán has never trusted cloud storage drives or allowed anyone in his circle to use them, either. He is paranoid about leaving any kind of digital evidence for the authorities to use against him. To date, Alvin still prefers old-school devices like flash drives and external drives to house the inner workings of his criminal operations."

"By this logic," I muse, "I would estimate that Juan Pablo would have, at least, two physical flash drives so they can be stored in two different locations for safekeeping. He will probably keep one on hand for easy access."

My mind begins to plot and scheme as I mumble, "Maybe we should pay Juan Pablo a visit."

"What kind of visit?"

"The kind where we break into his Spanish villa and steal all of his fucking secrets."

"It will be impossible to get in. His property is guarded like a fortress."

"Nothing is impossible if you throw enough money at the problem. Find a weak link in Juan Pablo's staff. Bribe the fuck out of them. If they pretend to be loyal dogs, double our offer and blackmail them into submission."

Monte grunts through the receiver, "Understood."

"Good. Anything else I should know?"

"Just one more thing."

My eyebrows rise. Beside me, Vivi eavesdrops on our exchange with great interest.

Monte reveals, "Apparently, Juan Pablo attended Hawkins Preparatory Academy. He graduated in the same year as your fiancée. Back then, he was known as Jaime Ortega."

Why does this name sound so familiar to me?

My heart slams into my chest with dread. I am reminded of Aria's nightmare back in my penthouse apartment.

What was it that she cried out?

I won't do it again.

She called out someone's name, too. A man's name.

Jaime.

In a flash, one blood-chilling dot connects to the other. Rage trembles through me as both hands ball up into white-knuckled fists. Unaware of my inner turmoil, Vivi stares at me with wide-eyed apprehension. She does not know how badly I want to rip out this fucker's spine from his eye sockets.

No one lays a hand on my girl without paying the price.

If Juan Pablo, or Jaime—or whatever the fuck name he wants to call himself—keeps fucking with us, then today will mark the beginning of his hell.

Harshly, I demand, "Did you say he was staying in a villa in Spain?"

It seems the Beltráns are old-school criminals.

"SÌ."

That is fine by me.

"How quickly can we get our men over there?"

I can be old-school, too.

"In about four hours."

"After everything of value has been removed from the villa," I pause before choosing chaos in the calmest voice possible, "burn it to the ground."