Rico From Rico Story Novels & Stories

Rico was already up when I stepped into the kitchen, a mug of coffee in hand as he scrolled through his phone. “Morning,” he said, not looking up. “Morning,” I replied, grabbing a cup for myself. “You look like you didn’t sleep at all,” he noted, finally glancing at me. I shrugged. “Dreams. Old memories, actually.” Rico raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. He knew better than anyone how my past haunted me, how it had shaped every decision I’d made since. “So, today’s the big day,” Rico said, leaning against the counter. “Another chess match with Claudia.”

“What if I made a mistake?” Her expression softened perfectly, beautifully like she’d practiced it in a mirror. “You didn’t,” she said. “You chose us. And we chose you.” Hector’s phone buzzed. He checked it, eyebrows lifting. “Well,” he said, smirking. “Looks like the Italians aren’t as invincible as they think.” Isolde stood, moving to his side. “What is it?” “Matteo Ricci,” Hector said. “He’s alive. Barely. Still in Texas.”

“Groom: Rafael Vittorio Ricciardi. Bride: Alessandra Marino.” The sound of the air conditioning suddenly became too loud. I was still sitting in the same chair. Still holding the same mug. I could still see Washington’s thin rain staining the window behind my laptop. Rafael. Vittorio. Ricciardi. My right hand tightened against the desk. My nails pressed lightly into the wood. I didn’t notice until the small sting reached me. “Can you imagine the press? That European dynasty? It’s like… Succession, but richer and older. And we—”

"Common! Don't ignore me like that. I can assure you that you'll enjoy me. My p**y is very hot. I'm sure you've got a long c**k down there." Out of anger, Ricco held her shoulders aggressively. "Stai lontano dai miei piedi, stronza!. Ho degli affari di cui occuparmi (*Stay out of my fucking way bitch!!, I've got some business to tend to)." "And someone I need to find!" He said lastly with his eyes locking with that of Lorenzo who understood what he meant.

I could see it…Valerio running from his own shadow, punishing himself for sins that weren’t entirely his. “He promised me,” Rico said softly, his voice breaking on the words. “He promised he’d protect me. But instead, he left me in that house… with the same man who killed my father. For years.” I swallowed hard. “Rico, I’m… I’m so sorry you went through that.” He smiled faintly, though his eyes stayed sad. “It was a long time ago. I’ve made peace with it. Or at least I thought I did.” For a while, the only sound in the room was the soft tearing of a plaster as I covered his wound. He didn’t move. He just watched me, quiet, almost tender.

Rico joined me, sitting beside me with his feet in the water. "Sometimes, the lake serves as a sanctuary for me when I'm seeking solace," Rico said softly, his gaze fixed on the ripples we created. "It's a place to reflect, to find peace amidst the chaos of life and the issues that come with being Alpha. It was where I got the inspiration to come find you." I leaned against him, my head resting on his shoulder, as we watched the moon's reflection shimmer upon the water. "You haven't told me what you want me to do in the pack.”

Before the empire, before the money, before the suits and luxury, there was them. Rico leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Puerto Rican by blood, he was tan like the rest of them but unmistakably different. His cocky charm, the way he made violence look like art, it had always set him apart. He wasn’t born into this world. He chose it, and he’d been one of Emilio’s most ruthless enforcers ever since.

Besides, I don’t have a dick, so Rico is not interested in me. (Stop being an idiot. Rico is a friend.-Me) (I don’t like other men touching you.-Luca) (Seriously, it’s Rico. He is not the least bit interested in me. He would only be interested in me if I suddenly grew a dick and a pair of testicles.-Me)

-———————————————————— A week after Rico’s death, the police report was released, the headline flashing across newspapers and television screens: **"Detective Rico Morales Found Dead in Apparent Suicide." At the precinct, detectives gathered in somber silence, discussing the details of the report. The forensic team had found a glass laced with poison, Rico’s fingerprints smudged across it, alongside a handwritten suicide note. The note was short but sorrowful, expressing his regret over his failures in solving recent high-profile cases, including those of his friends Jack and Carlos.