Not So Saint Nick Novels & Stories

The seventeen-year-old Nickolai is now the boss of the most feared mafia in the world. Although I didn’t know much about Nickolai but he never revealed anything that connected him to the mafia family. He was just Nickolai. Whoever Nickolai is now has nothing to do with me. It is over between us. I am leaving no matter what, as long as I find a way to get myself and Marc out of this. I am going to get my brother from the Keegans and live a peaceful life in Australia.

She’s as honest as she is sweet and generous, and it made the nickname stick with Ryan as well as me. The fact that she hasn’t been opposed to it, says enough in itself. What other front page beauty like her would ever accept being called a middle-aged man? My brain is short wiring. The channels and gears flipping and flopping all over the surface as well as beneath it. Days like these. Moments like these. I feel very much like the experimental bat from Ferngully. Obsessed as Nicky and I were with Scooby-Doo, we still had a mountain of other old VHS tapes. Most of them animated. The only time I know he’s guaranteed not to meddle is when we are having a movie marathon over the phone.

I just hoped it wouldn’t end badly. “Apart from trying to constantly trick me into bed,” Saint started one afternoon when I was in his home office with him while he worked on his computer. Sometimes, I just loved being around him even if we were doing our own things. I looked up from the silly little game I’d been playing on my phone. “Do you have any other hobbies?” “Uh, I’m offended.” I pointed out but Saint ignored me. “And what do you mean? I have hobbies.” “Shopping excluded, name one.”

Nick spoke up, "S seems to be going on a trip and is in a good mood. The person I asked said that he just sent red envelopes to everyone in the group chat. Hahaha, foreigners are also into our ways? It seems that the red envelopes he sent were quite big, one after another. The people in the group chat were almost going crazy. After all, S is always elusive and hardly speaks in the chat." Jack's lips twisted into a near-ferocious smile. His desire to teach S a lesson was stronger than ever. "Old Nick, send more people over tomorrow and make sure they are cautious. After the matter is done, you can take the villa you want." "Between brothers, talking about material things is too superficial. H

"I know Kathleen, Luna. We're just friends. That girl likes tall, buff, and handsome men! I'm not tall or buff, but I am handsome!" I couldn't help but laugh. "Then if that's the case, her type would be your friend, Nick." Arnold paused and Nick shook his head. "Not interested." Arnold looked at him curiously. "Why not? You're already twenty-four, and you still haven't found your mate. Is it because of the scar on your face? I'm telling you, you're handsome and cool! Don't look down on yourself." Nick sighed. "I'm not. I just don't like it."

Saint burst into a mocking laughter. “There is no need to get hostile, Jackie. It’s not something to fret over. I mean, I have always known that you have the hots for Keith. I just never knew that you go as far as pornographing him,” Saint said, cocking his eyebrows. He was a cocky motherfucker, and I really would have appreciated anyone else, anyone at all finding out about me with Keith than Saint. The truth of the matter was that not that I hated Saint, but I didn’t exactly like him either; I only tolerated him because of his closeness to Keith.

It was also the sixth time Aido had promised, though whether he'd actually show up remained uncertain. An hour passed, then another, then another. My messages to Aido sat there unanswered, just like always. Leo finally asked in a small voice, "Mamma, is Papa really busy again?" I opened my mouth but couldn't get a single word out. In the end, I just placed the red and white Santa hat on his head and said softly, "It's okay. Mamma will always be here with you." He nodded obediently and didn't ask again. That was when I happened to scroll past Isabella's latest social media update. The photo showed the night view from the top floor of a seaside club with wine glasses, roses, candlelight, and a

Saint isn't trying to intimidate me, he’s trying to educate me. "I don't want to dismantle him," my voice drops, the admission slipping out quietly. "I just want him to acknowledge that I’m a person, not a package." Saint studies my face for a long moment, reading the tension in my jaw and the fading bruises around my eye. "Stop wasting your time, Oliver," he murmurs softly. "You’re looking for warmth from a man who was forged in ice. It’s a good way to get frostbite. He’s good at his job, that’s all you really need from us."

It felt like he had been starving for six months, and dinner had just walked through the front door. "I didn't think you would come," he said. He wasn't talking to Chloe. Chloe pulled back, oblivious. "I told you I would convince her, Maya hates Christmas, but I told her this year would be different." Silas slowly disentangled himself from his daughter. He walked toward me. Every step was planned. The heavy boots he wore made no sound on the tiles. He moved like a wolf stalking a wounded rabbit. I fought the urge to step back. I wouldn't let him see me tremble. I was an adult.

“I miss you. I hate that I’m spending this Christmas without you. We’ve spent every Christmas together for the past five years, and now you’re off God knows where doing God knows what with God knows who.” “I miss you too,” I said softly, and meant it. Leo had been my neighbor, my friend, my lifeline for the past five years. We’d met when I’d moved into the apartment next to his, both of us broke and struggling and trying to figure out how to survive in a city that didn’t care if you lived or died. We’d bonded over cheap wine and cheaper takeout, and he’d become the closest thing to family I had besides my mother. Every Christmas, we’d spend the day together. Cooking an elaborate meal neither