What Book Does Nico Di Angelo First Appear In Novels & Stories

"Yes, we are. And we're going to enjoy it." TBC 1010 word count. Xoxo... we're almost done. My book L'Angelo Dell Terrore Is out now on Goodnovel. Pls add to library lovelies. 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 1

“You? Helping someone out of the goodness of your heart? Come on, Angelo. We’ve known you since you were stealing cigars from your old man’s stash. You don’t just ‘return favours.’” I kept my expression neutral. “This is different.” “Different how?” Nico pressed, his tone sharper now. “Because she’s young and scared? Or because you feel something for her?” I frowned, my jaw tightening. “This isn’t about feelings. Don’t start making assumptions.” “Oh, come on,” Marco said, throwing his hands up. “You expect us to believe this isn’t about pity or… something else? She’s not just another pawn, Angelo. We can see it.”

Aurora: “You do realize that Nicolas has told Giovanni that you’re my mate, right? The two of us…” “Yes, he did, and tricking Giovanni would be a bit hard. The man was the master of deceit and lies, and not to mention the fact that he was a ruthless killer who literally had no heart. But I figured that we can trick an easier prey” Dante said, stopping me as the two of us walked out of the basement. We were both stopped by Angelina and Gabriella who stood in front of the door, waiting for us to leave, and taking a step back, I was stopped by Dante who put his hand on my lower back “I didn’t expect the two of you to be awake”

Nico prompts, a smile still on his face. I stare at him for a while longer then heave out a breath. Here goes nothing. I move back to my seat, "It's about... the Priest, Antonio." Nico freezes and his eyes widen. He sits up and starts dressing up. "Yeah, what about him?" He asks, focusing on his pants like his hands aren't literally shaking. "I, uh, I found out where he lived and I've got my men tailing him." I supply. He faces me, “What, why?" He questions.

I say. I’ve been mulling over this for the last few hours on the way back to Italy, and the only conclusion I have come up with is using Nico’s knowledge of war against Allessio. He stood alongside Dante as they fought the Muratori’s so long ago; he would know how to fight Allessio. Nico looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “How do you expect me to keep a level head when my wife and children are missing?” He asks.

Nico looked at me, clearly ready to discuss something important. “How’s everything today?” Nico asked as he took a seat across from me. He didn’t wait for me to answer before continuing. “There’s someone who wants to meet you.” I raised an eyebrow. “Who?” “A mafia lord from the South. His name is Salvatore Romano. He’s one of Dante’s closest allies.” Nico’s voice was guarded, like he wasn’t sure how I would respond. I leaned back in my chair and thought for a moment. The mention of Salvatore Romano made me uneasy. Dante had mentioned him in a few emails I had gone through just last night, alongside the names of his closest allies. But why was he contacting me now?

This were the Russo’s the most prominent people in New York. It was Dante’s world And maybe I didn’t belong in his world. I found a quiet corner near a large ice sculpture and tried to look busy sipping my champagne, regret clouding my thoughts, I should have stayed back and cooked up some excuse not to go. I felt it a pair of eyes burning into me, I didn’t need to turn to know it was Angelo. His stare felt like a physical touch, heavy and angry, I kept my back to him, my heart pounding.

I watched, swallowing hard, pure lust in my gaze as Nico ran his tongue across the seam of his pouty lips, waiting for a response. “I… I don’t,” I responded. And finally, when the word slipped free, I could but —Nico hummed, in a tone of approval, while nodding. He pulled his palms away from my chin and I felt as though he should scorch me to death from shame and embarrassment. “The thing is, I came to that bar, Antonio,” Nico breathed out, walking step by step towards the door.

His fingers skimmed my collar, dragging lower, slow and possessive, igniting sparks where heat met skin. My breath sharpened, and my glare never wavered. “Dream on, De Luca,” I ground out, my voice rough, but a dark tremor twisted in my chest—an unwelcome pulse of fear and something worse. His smirk deepened, eyes dancing with delight. “Welcome to hell,” he purred, lethal and knowing. “And I don’t ruin the things I find… interesting.” “You’re not my prisoner, Niko,” Alessio’s smirk darkened, and without warning, his teeth grazed my lower lip in a wicked, biting tease—a dangerous promise laced with heat.

If Diablo really is on the wrong side of the law, and Detective Sloan is on the right, then maybe everything I thought I knew about the world is backward. Because Sloan makes my skin crawl, but Diablo doesn’t. Sloan makes me feel small, but Diablo makes me feel seen. At the bottom of the steps, a long black car waits. Its paint gleams under the sun like liquid glass. The rear door opens, and Diablo Romano is inside, watching me. His dark eyes are unreadable. “Get in,” he says as I approach. “We need to talk.” I hesitate for a heartbeat, my pulse quickening, then reach for the handle. Something in his tone tells me whatever comes next will change everything.