Novelas y relatos de Nico Diangelo

But I felt the seat beside me shift, and when I reluctantly turned, there he was, sitting close. "What, again? Can't you see I'm busy?" I snapped, my anger seeping through, though his smile remained unchanged. "By the way, I didn't introduce myself when you accidentally spilled your drink on me. I'm Drake. Mind telling me why you keep coming here, drowning your sorrows in alcohol?" His question fueled my anger. I looked away, hoping my silence would make him leave. "Hello," he persisted, but I kept drinking, deliberately avoiding eye contact.

I stood at Alessia’s back, and the male stood up suddenly. “Hello Anya.” he beamed. He was really cute. Does Vincenzo only have cute people around him? I tilted my head “How do you know my name?” “The guys told me. I am Nico. Nice to meet you.” he smiled. He looked playful and boyish and a little younger than the rest guys. Alessia tugged my shirt and I turned to look at her. “He is Nico, I and Vince's adopted brother. He may look playful, but he is a skilled assassin and a fucking asshole.”

“No my love, it was even stupid to test you. You've actually never asked me for anything more than my attention and I failed to realize that” “I love you Geena Stones”. “I love your Dariel Montague”. “About that, my name may not actually be Dariel,” he said with a little laugh. “Please don't pull any pranks on me”. “I'm not my dear. A man came to me saying he's my late father's lawyer. He showed me pictures of my late parents. I am originally from Italy and my name is Nico. Nico De Luca. My dad owned a multi billion empire and being the only son, all that is mine”.

Nico is watching me from across the room, phone still in his own hand, already halfway through some call I haven’t fully registered starting. “Dario Conti.” My voice comes out, stripped of every trace of the drunken grief that had me swaying an hour ago. Something colder has replaced it, something Nico has seen only a handful of times in fifteen years, and each time it’s arrived, someone hasn’t survived what came after. “It was him. All along. Rebuilding, waiting, patient enough to let me marry, patient enough to let me start caring about something before he finally decided to take it.” “I have three locations we’re already checking.” Nico doesn’t waste time on anything else. “Properties tie

"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."

They dragged me into the back office of the restaurant, locked the door, and threw me onto the leather couch. Nico walked in slowly, rolling up the sleeves of his black shirt. He was tall, broad, with dark hair, cold gray eyes, and a scar across his left cheek. Power rolled off him like smoke. He was the underboss — second only to the Don — and everyone feared him. He held up my phone, the photo still on the screen. “Stupid little girl,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “You thought you could spy on me and get away with it?”

“Fuck, I wouldn’t have wasted time either.” “Are you out of your mind? Keep that dirty mind to yourself. I’m not looking at my future Luna like that...!” “Yeah, play saint...” “Guys,” Ángelo’s voice cut in, low, and I’m sure he sensed me coming down the stairs. I glanced at Nino on the couch. He’d already built a whole tech setup around himself. He lifted his head, gave me a respectful nod. I nodded back. Then he put his headphones on again and locked onto the laptop like the unhinged geek he was, trying to figure out who the hell was getting into my security like it was their personal playground... and kept fucking with me.

I shouted his name once more, trying to get his attention. "Annie, what are you looking for?" Damon responded, his voice barely a whisper. He kept fucking Cassandra until he saw me again, and knew I was actually the one standing before him. "Then, tell me what it is you want from me." For a moment, he stopped and wrapped himself in a towel, drawing back a bit behind the bedrails. "Really?" I snapped. "Shut up!" Cassandra bellowed, staring at me with jealous eyes. "He's not going to fall in love with an ugly poor young ass like you... so, help us shut the door behind you immediately."

Rage, cold and sharp, slides under my skin. “D’Angelo runs women,” Dante continues. “Among other things. Contracts like this are his favorite kind of hobby. High‑profile. Pretty. Useful. He doesn’t just want the money. He wants the leverage. He wants satisfaction.” I stare at the photo. He looks…average. Middle‑aged. The kind of man you’d see on a train and forget two stops later. Until he puts your name next to his. “I intercepted this before it was finalized,” Dante says. “Before your first single dropped. While you were still opening for smaller acts and sleeping in vans, he thought he’d already bought your future. I paid Jimmy off and filed our marriage instead.”

Every thrust sent sparks through me. “Nikolai,” I gasped, forgetting to use his title. His grip on my hip tightened. “Say it again.” “Nikolai,” I moaned louder this time. The tension built higher and higher until I shattered completely, crying out as waves of pleasure crashed through me. He followed moments later with a deep groan, falling his forehead against my shoulder.