Nico Di Angelo Aesthetic Novels & Stories

“Approximately one thousand. Small, finely carved, and very real.” My brows shot up. “They’ll still cut you if you’re not careful,” Nico said with a low chuckle. I glanced at him, then back at the dress. The diamonds glistened under the lights, scattering glints across the room like tiny stars. When my gaze returned to Nico, his expression gave nothing away. This was what Dante wanted me to wear? Something so dangerously beautiful, so perfectly constructed it almost felt untouchable? I lifted a hand, tempted to brush the fabric, to find out if it felt as sharp as it looked. But I stopped myself.

Messy dark brown hair fell across his forehead effortlessly, a look that actors and rock stars probably paid a stylist a sh*t ton of money for. He had his dad's jaw and eyes, but his face was longer. More elegant. Whereas Ravazzani was brutally handsome, Nico was refined and gorgeous. And his body was rangy and thin, not yet filled out with the strength of his father. Various tattoos ran along his forearms. Luna was right-Nico was a total snack. "Are you a model?" I blurted, only half-joking. The side of his mouth hitched. "I could ask you the same, Anastasia Mancini. After all, modeling is in your blood and I am told you look like your mother."

“This is Nico, right? Is he a model? I assumed he is an old man.” The man who seems to be Nico curls his lips into an amused smile that radiates confidence. “Oh, I guess you understand attractiveness better than my friend here,” he says, sitting with us at the table. “Don’t feed his ego, Cassie,” Liam warns. “I’m Nico,” the attractive man introduces himself, offering his hand to me. “A fashion model.” I shake it and he holds my hand a little too long–making me notice he has deep brown eyes which make him look as if he is always thinking of mischief.

D'Angelo stopped three steps away from Leonardo with arms wide open and greeted him with a smile. D'Angelo was one of the most renowned hair stylists in New Haven and Pari. His skills were excellent, but he was also known for his androgynous features. Leonardo was handsome, but his features were strong and masculine, whereas D'Angelo were soft and refined. This was Vanessa's first time meeting D'Angelo in person. She never thought that he would have a pair of alluring eyes the same way Sebastian Crawford did. People often claimed that men with alluring eyes were usually playboys.

When I looked at Ang, it seemed like he had figured out why I lied. Well, nice meeting you too, Nicole; my name is Angelo Rodriguez, but you can call me Ang," Ang said, followed by a broad smile. For some reason, I heard a gasp from Nicole, and I stopped myself from smiling because it looked like she immediately liked Ang. "No way!" I heard Nicole exclaim, so I immediately faced her and saw the surprise on her face. I was thinking that she might really have taken a liking to Ang, which is a possibility considering how good looking and likeable he is. "What do you mean, no way, Nicole?" I asked, confused.

Then my gaze locked on him behind the bar. Nico. Twenty-three, maybe twenty-four. Lean, sharp-jawed, with messy black hair that fell into stormy gray eyes and a body that screamed trouble, tight black tank clinging to smooth, tattooed shoulders, low-slung jeans hugging a perfect bubble ass. He was pouring shots with a smirk that could make a man hard and murderous in the same breath. Handsome didn’t cover it. He was fucking edible. I stopped dead. “That one. Bring him to my booth.”

"Twelve years with the family and eight working directly with Dante." "And you're loyal to him." "Completely." I looked at the stone wall at the far end of the path. Four meters at least with a smooth face and nothing to grip. "Even knowing what he does." Nico was quiet for a moment in the thinking way rather than the defensive way, like someone who had sat with that question before and arrived somewhere honest about it. "There are worse men running worse things in this city and I've seen them up close," he said glancing at me sideways. "Dante has lines he doesn't cross and that matters more than people think."

“I don't think we should worry about that. He could always come back, plus we have his daughter now…” I didn't allow Ace’s sinister-sounding brother to finish his sentence, and dropped a glass of wine on Ace’s shoe. “What the fuck, Angel!” He barked at me, I quickly made my way up. To say he's angry would be an understatement, he was fuming, and looked like he's ready to kill someone. “I'm sorry!” I said, my voice breaking. Tears were already starting to form in my eyes. . "You can't just throw wine on people and expect to get away with it by a simple sorry, doesn't work like that," he denounced. I glanced at his fist, and he was shaking, his eyes still pinned on me.

Pity flows through me for him, he has no idea what’s in store for him later. I’m almost hidden by one of the large stone pillars and from here I watch the room. Nico is by Damians side, he looks like one of the angels from the renaissance and I am most certain that he was used as inspiration for the great Italian masters. His face looks serious as he listens to whatever Damian is saying, there is a bright eyed adoring fledgling hanging from Damian’s arm looking at him like he is a god. Foolish girl. Nico’s eyes keep roaming the room and I know he is looking for me but I can not make myself move in their direction.

They look like a million stars; it makes me catch my breath. For sure, he has had designers because that man has got an ice-cold heart, he wouldn’t have such vision or care for the prettiness or beauty. This will be all to impress and show people that he is one of the richest men in New York, probably in the world. I dread to think of all the things Nico Santangelo has done to get this far. It makes me shudder; the man is dangerous. And I’m not just talking about the heinous crimes he would have committed, the people whose lives he would have destroyed to walk all over to get to the top, but the way he is making me think only of him, with his electric blue eyes, his almost jet black hair, th