Nico Di Angelo Book Series Novels & Stories

I take another sip from the cigar before speaking to him “Dario, do you know why you are here?” He swallowed hard “Mr. Lucado, I …..” I laughed at his formal approach. “Mr. Lucado? Although this might work well with my father, but not me. I’m Nickolai, remember. Everyone calls me Nickolai. Do I have to rip out a tooth to remind you of my name? Tiny beads of sweat emerge from his forehead roll down his temple tracing the line of his mustache. His lips trembles as he spoke “I apologize Don Nickolai. It’s a mistake. I didn’t mean….” I raise my hand to silence him. “I’ll just ask you one question. Who are your accomplices?”

And that… that was the first time I realized something deeper lived beneath his anger. Something cracked. Downstairs, breakfast was a battlefield. Nico was already there, shirtless and barefoot, tattoos on full display as he balanced a spoon between his fingers and tried to throw cereal at Matteo, who was nose-deep in some thick leather-bound book at the far end of the table. “You two ever sleep?” I muttered, grabbing a mug of black coffee. “Not when there’s someone new to stalk in the house,” Nico said with a grin. I didn’t answer. Just sank into a chair across from Matteo, who glanced up, nodded once, and then returned to his book. I could feel him watching me again, though. Quietly. Patie

Not wanting to let her go so soon. Fuck. What am I getting myself into? "I'll think about it. I have to go to work, but you need to drop me off at my house first." ***** Author: This chapter is a bonus. For the new Mafia book about Leonardo and Amber #spoileralert #therewillbenomoreleoandemilie #stillmoreplotsahead #kenandbarbieforever Angelica: Oh hell yes! And soon it'll be Ivan and me, right? Ivan: Well, maybe if you stop dancing with strangers

A voice picked up. “He’s here,” My father said grimly. “Nico’s here?” My blood turned to ice. He is here... So soon. The war was just beginning. ---- **Nico’s POV** The car tires screeched as I pulled up to the abandoned safehouse just outside the city. Matteo gripped the gun in his lap, his jaw locked. “We’re going in quietly,” I ordered. He nodded. “Understood.” But there was nothing quiet about the storm inside me.

What the hell was going on with me? He stared at me with blue eyes that reminded me of the deep sea, full of darkness and secrets. It was unsettling yet captivating, and I found myself drawn to him. An impulse surged through me to trace his sharp jaw and the scar over his right eyebrow with my fingertips and press my lips against his plump ones while running my hands through his thick black hair. No one had ever stirred such feelings within me. Nicholas unlocked a part of me that I didn’t know existed, awakening a need that excited and terrified me. It was as if he held a mirror to my soul, revealing desires I’d kept buried deep. Yet there was the angel inside me that the world thought me to

ANGEL “My body might respond,” I hissed through clenched teeth, “but I will never want you. I will never stop hating you. And I will never stop trying to kill you.” “Promise?” His eyes sparkled with amusement and delight. “That makes my dick harder than anything else. The idea of spending the rest of my life with you trying to murder me while I’m balls deep inside you, fucking you into oblivion? That’s my fucking fantasy. Other men dream about tropical vacations. I dream about you with a gun to my head while I’m making you cum so hard you cry.”

“Now, if you want to take back the Barone legacy… and end what your mother started… I’m ready to serve.” Bella stood straighter, eyes burning. “Then we begin now.” Nico poured two glasses of something dark and sharp-smelling… grappa maybe, but neither Bella nor I touched ours. He stood behind a massive oak desk layered in hand-drawn maps, aged files, and yellowed Polaroids that looked like ghosts from another lifetime. One of them showed Riccardo Barone flanked by men in suits, including a much younger version of Nico, eyes sharp and filled with the kind of clarity only loyalty gave.

he screams again. He manages to loosen his grip enough that I can take a breath, and in the next instant, he tackles Nico to the floor, and I gasp for air as he holds him down and repeats a bunch of stuff I don’t understand. “Stay with me,” Damian says. “Nico, we are back in your apartment in Paris.” Nico breathing hard and fast, his eyes fully dilated as they dart around the room. He’s a cornered animal right now unrecognizable but those eyes, they remind me of a small boy.

“You? Helping someone out of the goodness of your heart? Come on, Angelo. We’ve known you since you were stealing cigars from your old man’s stash. You don’t just ‘return favours.’” I kept my expression neutral. “This is different.” “Different how?” Nico pressed, his tone sharper now. “Because she’s young and scared? Or because you feel something for her?” I frowned, my jaw tightening. “This isn’t about feelings. Don’t start making assumptions.” “Oh, come on,” Marco said, throwing his hands up. “You expect us to believe this isn’t about pity or… something else? She’s not just another pawn, Angelo. We can see it.”

I say. I’ve been mulling over this for the last few hours on the way back to Italy, and the only conclusion I have come up with is using Nico’s knowledge of war against Allessio. He stood alongside Dante as they fought the Muratori’s so long ago; he would know how to fight Allessio. Nico looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “How do you expect me to keep a level head when my wife and children are missing?” He asks.