Aot Niccolo Novels & Stories

"Sex or fight?" "Sex," Alessio informed with a shrug, allowing his brother entrance as he chuckled. "I had no idea my baby bro was a kinky bastard," "Ha, coming from the guy who seems to know a lot about BDSM," "Hey, I read an article once," Niccolo defended. "And remember it since?" Alessio asked in disbelief. "You sure you don't have experience in that area." "Oh fuck off," Niccolo laughed, settling down on the sofa as his brother chuckled. "And put some clothes on, will you."

As soon as the table is cleared, some men drop on the empty chairs around me, bearing shark smiles. Unease slithers down my spine as I count them. Four in all. It is a crowded space after all. They can’t do anything funny here. Right? “You really are one Albanian wonder. Now I see what he saw in you.” One of them starts. He stretches a hand toward me. “I’m Nicolo. You can call me Nick.”

He looked back down at the pool. "Memorize his features. His name is Nicolo. He has not yet taken his full vows but he is with the Brother Michael in the Italian town of Rinaldi. There will be a festival tonight with much drink. The good brother is known to imbibe freely and you should have no problem luring Nicolo away from him. Take him, collect his seed and return here for further orders." "Yesss, Massster. It will be asss you command." The figure of the succubus shimmered and was gone.

“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.

Over my twitching corpse. “Nico,” I called one of my men through clenched teeth. He stepped out from behind Matteo. “Boss.” Nico was one of my Enforcers. He had a knack for drilling mem and for interrogation, or in better words, torture. “Since Orsini here doesn't want to make a choice,” I drawled lazily, keeping my eyes on Matteo. “You chose Nico.” Alberto huffed out a laugh, a wide grin on his face as he clapped Matteo on the shoulder.

Marco disconnected the call immediately and put a call across the colly room. He ordered the to get the place where Maximo is and then he disconnected. He let out a sigh after this and then casually look up to see Iris staring out to him from the window. He tried a smile but that didn't work so he quickly step on the gas pedal and drove out. The drive to the private airport was short and when he get there, just after thirteen minutes, the jet of Maximo Santino Landed. Aldo and Alessio alighted immediately with their face laced with unread expression.

He glanced at her, but he returned his attention on the road. "Of course, yes. Who wouldn't be happy? Aren't you happy, huh? We found someone who can help us, Casey. We're having a solution to the problem we had. You're right in the first place, Casey. Sir Antonio can possibly help us. I became angry towards you, but I didn't know what's going on your mind. I'm sorry for it. I was wrong and I want to apologize again to you," Niccolo said, seriously. He answered her while he's not looking at her eyes. He focused his eyes on the road.

A dull thud came from the back as Teo rolled into the footwell. “What the hell, Nic? Animal in the road?” I asked, scanning the dark, snowy asphalt. Nic was gripping the wheel so hard the leather was groaning. He looked completely out of it. “Sorry. I… I can’t focus,” Nic whispered. “My Noir is screaming. He wants to hit 140 and get back to the Estate. It’s like a magnetic pull. I can’t fight it.” “Is that what happened to Teo?” I asked. Teo nodded weakly from the back.

He and Mykaela didn't share any other physical traits besides their height, slim build, and dark hair. This 40-something wealthy entrepreneur—the firstborn son of a wealthier drug lord—also looked like he could knock anyone down with a single punch. The way he talked as if we'd already met only doubled the air of confidence around him. At least a few inches taller than me and Ricchar, too. "You trust him with your life kind of friend?" Ricchar chuckled beside me. "Excuse me. Phone call." Niccolo got up from his seat and flung me a 'Fuck! It's Stefano!' look as he walked off with his phone.

"I...um...I didn't actually think his—" "Should be more careful, Kel. Don't trust anyone that quick." Niccolo took his phone out and stared at the screen for a while, seemingly hesitating. The veins in his strong, angular jaw drew faint lines on his smooth, brown skin. He had tiny scars beside his lips and one above his left brow. Did he get into a fistfight recently? "I gotta take this." "Don't leave me here," I stressed with a frown. "Where you going?" I asked when he was about to get up from his seat.