Nico And Bianca Novels & Stories

Chapter 111 BIANCA’S POV “And you don’t have to do much,” Nina continued. “He’s already a hit on his own. All you have to do is just get him to post more. Engage with his followers and agree to this romantic shit. That’s all. How hard could that be?! It’s not rocket science, Bianca Sinclair!” She yelled into the phone, sounding like she was about to lose it. I could only imagine her reaction if she ever became famous with loads of followers. The whole world would know about it and probably never hear the end of it.

I focused on my left hand instead, on the ring that probably cost so much, a ring I wished I could throw into the deepest sea. But then strong hands grazed my back and my breath immediately stopped, because I knew this touch. And it definitely wasn’t Alessia. I looked up, into the mirror before me and then I almost choked on my own spit. Nico. Nico was the one right behind me, standing so close to me. Too close to me. I stiffened as my fingers curled against the vanity. He did not move and neither did I as we both stared into each other’s eyes through the mirror.

I'm just hoping no one notices. "This again?" Niko's eyes flick up to my own. Mischievousness plays in his irises, warning me of his mood. Holding his gaze, I silently begged him to play fair, but he only smirked, turning around dramatically. His arm flew around my waist to pull me close. I'm plastered to the side of his body now as we both stare at Franko, who's gritting his teeth and fisting his hands. "Did you not get the message earlier? Bianca is my fiancé. Soon to be my wife. You have no hold on her. So do us all a favour and back the fuck off," Niko spits angrily.

“But we have something. A man named Nico—he used to work for Ricci. He wants to talk.” “Why?” I asked. “He says he has information. Claims he knows where Bianca is hiding.” I narrowed my eyes. “And what does he want in return?” “Money. And safety.” Of course. No one in this world gave anything for free. But if Nico knew where Bianca was, he might be the piece I needed to end this. “Set it up,” I said. “I want to see him today.” We met Nico in a small bar outside the city. The place smelled like old beer and stale smoke. He was sitting in a corner booth, head low, eyes shifting nervously. He looked scared, and that was a good sign. People who feared Bianca usually told the truth.

"You can force me to do every other thing but not to eat. It’s my stomach." His gaze lingers on my face before he says, "You better eat your food or come eat some other food." His voice drops to a low, husky tone. "And that small, sexy mouth of yours would fit it nicely." My face flushes hard as I instantly understand what he's referring to. I quickly stuff my mouth with some bacon, catching Nico stifle a small smile. Later after breakfast, Nico leaves for work and I know he's off to do his stupid mafia shit.

he demanded. An even stronger electric current hit my brain as a blood-curdling scream tore out of my throat. The massive projection screen flickered to life all over again. In my memory, Caterina had deliberately spilled red wine over her dress, weeping as she turned to look at Damiano. "Bianca, I was only trying to stand up for you… Why do you hate me so much?" Damiano had frowned and pulled her behind him. The scene cut again. This time, Caterina was wrapping her arm sweetly around mine with a sweet, innocent smile, only to pitch herself backward down the staircase a second later.

You might not remember it now, but you'll know it when you see it. "Niccolo's birthday is on October 18th. Remember it. "He likes espresso and hates milk. He taps his fingers on the table when he's nervous. "He has a tiny scar at the end of his left eyebrow from a fall when he was three. "He loves you. More than you'll ever know." All of them were about Nico. Bianca's hand began to shake. "It's been three years," she spat through gritted teeth. "We've been together for three years, and he never once treated me like a real fiancée."

“I’m fine.” Niccolò watched me but said nothing. Bianca didn’t seem to need his response. She kept touching him, making small brushes along his shoulder, squeezing his arm lightly, resting her head slightly on his body. Every touch she made felt deliberate and all her hideous smiles were aimed at me like she was trying to challenge me. “Do you remember that night in Milan, Nico?” she continued, turning back to him. “When we got caught in the rain and had to wait in that tiny café until morning? You were so different back then.”

“Lena, don’t think that Nico still pining for you means you’ve won. Let me tell you, when the Sorrentino family fell, he played a part. He sold your family’s business secrets to our rivals. “He originally wanted you as his mistress, but you escaped to Nassau.” She sneered, her eyes sharp as a blade. “And look at you, lucky enough to land Vincent. But your good days are over. A murderer only deserves prison!” With that, she let out a scream and tumbled into the raging sea like a kite cut loose. Nico arrived in a rush. His eyes were fixed on the waves, but he didn’t move forward. I expected him to explode in rage, but instead, he turned away, expressionless.

Vivian shuffles her color swatches. Nico looks at his phone. Both are clearly trying to avoid each as much as possible, could there something actually going on between these two?