Nicco: Devil's Spawn Book 1

Ch. 36: Twelve Hours

ARIA

Twelve hours can change everything.

Not long ago, I was still asleep in Nicco's arms, feeling safe, snug, and sore as hell but, dare I say it, well-fucked and unequivocally wanted.

Around 6 am, the alarm goes off, and Nicco drags me into the shower for a quickie before we head off to work.

Two hours later, we arrive in the office. Nicco's called away to an impromptu meeting. I go to my cubicle.

I start digging into everything I could find about Manning and the Gravinski account. Based on the message that Jaime sent me in the hotel, they're both linked to whatever he's hoping to achieve, so I need to know everything there's to know about them in order to trip up his plans.

Since I don't have the security clearance to access the private data and records tied to the Gravinski account, I decided to log in as Nicco. I'm sure he wouldn't mind. From his very first week on the job, Nicco has allowed me to borrow his username and password at Jackson & James. I've been using it to access confidential records to prep for his meetings and reports.

With my eyes glued to my laptop screen, I scroll through the files. At first glance, the Gravinski account appears to be made up of profits deposited from a handful of small businesses. The valuation of its total assets sits at two million pounds. It's a mere drop in the bucket compared to some of the larger portfolios belonging to high-profile clients here at Jackson & James.

Something about it doesn't feel right, though. Hell, nothing about my life feels right at the moment. After last night, everything has been forever transformed between Nicco and me. We've become unbreakable in the sense that, even if fate refuses to grant us a happy ending, he has already made a deep, enduring mark on me. Like a scar. But a beautiful one. It's impossible to go back to the person I was before him. I know Nicco cares for me, so much so that I'm scared to explore the depth of his feelings. I was this fucking close to dropping the L-bomb on him last night.

I love him.

I do.

But I'm not going to be reckless about it. If yesterday night was meant to be a taste of heaven, then I've woken up to the dawning of hell.

Twelve hours.

That's all it takes for paradise to become purgatory now that the demons have come out to play. From here on out, I must proceed with caution.

My gaze returns to the screen. Shit doesn't get interesting until I follow a bureaucratic trail of signatures and approval forms tied to the account activities. Every transaction made its way through several mid-level managers before leading back to Manning. It's Manning who gets the final say on how the revenue can be re-invested into stocks, bonds, and real estate.

Now, a crease furrows my brow.

Why would a high-level manager like Manning go through the trouble of overseeing such a small portfolio?

Before I can connect any more dots between Manning, the Gravinski account, and Jaime, however, I'm interrupted by a polite male voice, "Miss Senarath?"

I glance up from my laptop. It's Nelson, one of the mailroom clerks. "Hey, Nelson. How are you today?"

"Not too shabby. Yourself?"

I chuckle amicably. "Hanging in there."

Nelson laughs, too. "Aren't we all?"

He hands me a few packages. "These are for you."

"Thanks."

He nods graciously. "Of course. Have a good day, Miss Senarath."