NICCO

I am not ashamed to say that I spend the next month doing everything in my power to crush Aria's spirit. Pride compels me to show her who's the boss. Part of me wants to see her suffer. Maybe I can even make her quit on her own. Then, my father cannot fault me for firing my assistant.

It does not take long, however, for me to realize that my pretty assistant is made of steel. Her strength is unlike anything I have ever known. She does not nag or bully to get her point across. Not like my parents. Instead, she schemes in silence. Thwarting my every attack while making me feel as though I have won. I admit, I have grown somewhat captivated by her tactics. No matter how unreasonably I behave, she remains soft, pliant, yet, irrefutable.

She is an enigma who never fails to deliver exactly what I need. And then some. And always with a fucking smile plastered on her face.

Before I even realized it, I started getting caught up in the sheer momentum of her competence. Against my nature, I found myself caring about the day-to-day headaches of my job. The more I interacted with Aria, the more I learned about how the consequences of my actions as the head of this department can really fuck shit up.

Needless to say, my plan to take her down a notch has been severely backfiring.

Each day, as my pretty assistant gazes up at me with those soft gray eyes and that teasing, tilty smile of hers, a funny feeling stumbles across my heart.

Dio.

I never knew that gray eyes could be so lovely.

There is something about Aria Senarath that makes my unmotivated ass want to do more.

When we first met, her brazenness rubbed me the wrong way. I felt as though I had fucked up. As though I was not deserving of my position at Jackson & James. As though I was being blamed for something that was out of my control.

No one has ever made me feel so shitty about myself.

Well, no. Scratch that. There have always been haters and green-eyed monsters in my vicinity. Throughout my life, I have been betrayed, backstabbed, and used for all the wrong reasons. The right ones, too. Simply because I was born a Vitale. Simply because I have been afforded privileges that might not be accessible to others. Simply because I am a young, rich, good-looking son of a bitch. But I never let the noisiness of it all throw me off balance.

Until recently.

Somehow, the truth in Aria's insults managed to get under my skin.

Over the past month, the storm inside me has since run its course. At last, I am calm again. An introspective mood has replaced my anger. Such sullenness feels strange. It is an utterly foreign feeling. But it compels me to show up at the office around the crack of dawn just so I can show her that she is wrong about me. Just so I can "pull my weight" and never "drop the ball again."

I know. This behavior is unlike me. I can only assume that the funny feeling lingering in my chest is... guilt.

By now, I know that Aria is the kind of person who takes her job seriously. It seems unlikely for an employee who appeared to be as diligent as Aria to lose her shit over me—her superior and her boss—for no reason. This glaring inconsistency has been weighing on my mind for a while.

Last week, I started to do more digging around the office. Thankfully, it was not difficult to extract answers from my staff. Tongues wagged. Readily. Tea was spilled left and right. According to Samantha Beckham, one of the financial analysts on my team, my assistant had nearly lost her job covering for my ass. Aria was also working as a financial analyst before she was forced her to take on the role of my assistant. Once I learned about these unfortunate events, I instantly felt like shit.

I did not want to admit it, but Aria is a goddamn saint for putting up with a prick like me. The way she handled Manning was also quite humbling. My assistant didn't throw me under the bus with Manning, but neither did she let me off the hook. I kind of deserved the tongue-lashing she gave me. She certainly earned my respect, and I do not offer it to many people. Mamma always told Vivi and me that respect was the one thing money could not buy. It is worth more than fear or blind obedience because, when push comes to shove, respect is the one thing that endures.

For a moment, I consider what it might take to earn the respect of a girl like Aria. The effort alone would likely cripple a man, but part of me wonders if I might be folle enough to try?

I shove the thought aside before it can take root. Not even I am that crazy. But what I can do is—apologize. And start treating her like a fucking principessa in an attempt to make up for my shit behavior this past month.

At the very least, I owe her that much.

***

ARIA

The next morning, I show up in the office at 6 am. When Nicco approaches my cubicle twenty minutes later, I am shocked to see him. Normally, he does not show up until 9 am. I sense something different about him. I can't quite put my finger on it, but all of the dicky, chaotic energy he's been sending my way feels resolved, somehow. It makes me wary as fuck.

Arching an eyebrow, I ask, "What are you doing in the office at 6 am?"

His gaze finds mine. "I came to clear the air with someone."

"You came to clear the air?"

"SÌ."

I frown. "With who?"

Green eyes flick toward me. "You."

I'm taken aback. "Me?"

Nicco clears his throat. "SÌ. You."

I gawk at him, not quite comprehending where he's going anymore. "Over what?"

He hesitates. "Over letting you take the fall. With Ted Manning. And being the world's most difficult boss for the past month or so."

Anxiously, I demand, "How did you find out about Manning?"

He has the decency to wince. "Almost everyone on the floor heard him yell at you. It was not difficult to get the full story once I started asking around."

It's my turn to wince. "I see."

Remorse weighs on Nicco's handsome features as he sighs, "Ted shouldn't have gone after you when I was the one who missed the meeting. Will you forgive me?"

My eyebrows shoot up in awe. "You're apologizing?"

"SÌ."

"Wow."

He comments wryly, "Do not look so stunned, Aria. Believe it or not, I am well-versed in ass-kissing. And groveling before beautiful women."

Beautiful, huh?

A chuckle escapes me. This cheeky bastard. "Good to know."

"As long as you uphold your promise to keep my schedule as relaxed as possible," he supplies, "I think it is time for me to take my responsibilities as the department manager a bit more seriously. I do not want to put you in a tough spot again."

Genuinely stunned, I gasp, "Don't you dare play with my heart, sir, because this may be the best fucking news I've heard all month."

His jaw tightens. "I am not playing with you, I swear. I will not let Manning harass you, or any other member of my team, while I am running this department."

"What a hero," I quip.

"I would not have to play the hero," he supplies breezily, "if I had not behaved like a villain."

I've noticed that my boss often speaks in a somewhat grandiose manner, and I can't help but be charmed by it. Maybe it's because English isn't his first language.

Or maybe it's the Italian in him?

Either way, a smile curves over my mouth. "I won't argue with you there."

Nicco keeps catching me off guard. The last thing I expected from him this morning was an apology and a change of heart. The bastard may be a Vitale, but his willingness to right his wrongs indicates that, at least, he's not a total asshole. He's got some backbone to his character.

I glance away from Nicco and try to ignore the quickening of my pulse. Every single one of these realizations is making my sexy boss all the more attractive to me. Right then, I sense that I may be sinking into deep shit: I'm interested in someone who has zero interest in me.

In my dreams, Nicco Vitale can rail me all he wants, but, in the real world, I'm his PA, he's my boss, and reality never plays out like a smutty rom-com.

Pretty sure the only thing Nicco wants from me is to put out more fires for him, which means the only thing I should focus on is doing my actual job.

All the while ignoring how fuckable my boss might be.

***

NICCO

"So," I finally say, breaking the silence, "you forgive me?"

After Aria gives me an affirmative nod, she tags on a disclaimer, "As long as you start showing up for all of your meetings."

"I will agree to attend one meeting a day," I offer without missing a beat, "for your sake."

"How about five a day?" she counters with a hopeful expression.

I make a face of disapproval. "Three."

She insists, "Four."

"I refuse to meet with these idiots more than three times a day," I assert in a tone that indicates our negotiation is over.

"You're still determined to make my job as difficult as possible, aren't you?" Aria complains in a grumbly voice.

Grinning like a diavolo, I do not hesitate to remind her, "Only because it is still your job to make mine as easy as possible."

I expect her to punch back at my cheeky jab. Instead of growing upset, however, a cunning gleam shines from Aria's gray eyes. Her voice drops low. "Nicco?"

Once again, she sounds soft. Sweet. Accommodating. Too accommodating.

I grow suspicious. "Yes?"

She stares up at me with those soft gray eyes of hers. "I'd like nothing more than to make your job as easy as possible."

Uh-oh.

I sense trouble on the horizon.

She continues in honey-dipped tones, "But I'll need your cooperation."

There it is.

Trouble.

Eyeing Aria with a sense of wariness, I ask, "What kind of cooperation?"

She smiles like an innocent angelo. "Mergers and Acquisitions is hosting a happy hour event on Friday the 19th."

I do not like where this is going. "Is that so?"

"Manning will be there."

"Good for him."

"It wouldn't be a bad idea if we were to stop by," Aria suggests, "and try to make peace with him."

I try to talk my way out of it, "What if I already have plans on Friday the 19th?"

A hard gleam enters her eyes. "Maybe you should cancel those plans."

I glare at her. "How about... no?"

Boldly, she looks me right in the eye and accuses, "I thought you wanted to be a hero?"

I open my mouth to argue, but Aria beats me to the punch, reminding me, "Not to mention, you kind of owe me one. Manning has been out for my blood because of you."

"Are you trying to guilt me into doing this for you?"

Aria grins, all lopsided and cute. "But of course."

I feel compelled to smile back. "I suppose I can show my face for an hour or so. You, however, better make it worth my while."

My assistant proposes, "I'll buy you a drink if you can convince Mr. Manning to reschedule his meeting with you."

I have no intention of letting her do anything of the sort—gentlemen should always pay for ladies, after all, not the other way around—but, for the sake of this conversation, I agree to her terms, "Deal."

"I'll RSVP for us and email you the details later today."

I grunt, "Sounds good."

"I guess I'll see you on the 19th, then?"

"See you on the 19th."

As I walk away from her cubicle and head toward my office, anticipation coils around me. All of a sudden, I find myself looking forward to Friday the 19th.

Not because of Manning, of course.

Nor the happy hour.

But, Dio aiutami, it might have everything to do with seeing my pretty gray-eyed assistant outside of work for the first time, and this realization sets me on edge. Because I have never been one to chase after women like Aria. They are too demanding. Too high maintenance. Too smart and sly.

Unfortunately, my brain is at odds with my cock.

My brain knows better than to play with fire, but my cock cannot help but wonder if she might be worth a walk through the flames for a quick fuck or two?