29. Nico
CHAPTER 29
NICO
My phone vibrates in my pocket, the burner I keep for trusted associates or deals I'd rather not disclose to anyone. I glance at the screen—it's Costa. I accept the call.
" Padrino , are you alright?" Costa's voice is tense, filled with concern. "Heard about the warehouse fire through the grapevine."
I lean back in my chair, fingers drumming on the polished accent desk. "I'm fine. A little out of sorts, but still kicking. Do you have any news for me?"
"I should have been there," he laments, ignoring my question. His loyalty flares in his tone. "You wouldn't have been in danger if I had your back."
"I know, I know."
"I'm not joking, Padrino . How did that even happen? What were you doing there?" The questions tumble out, his protective nature overriding his usual reserve.
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "You need to stop. You're not my mother."
A moment of silence stretches between us, and I feel somewhat guilty for sending him off to Mexico when having him by my side probably would have been a smarter choice. Plus, that's where he'd like to be. That silly Italian pride in him. The need to give his life to someone else for allegedly saving it when he was a teen. He would have done fine on his own, of course. I know it. But arguing with someone like Costa is useless.
"Obviously," he mutters a comment to my earlier remark.
"Look, Vlad and I, we made progress. Recovered the Brazilian shipment. But never mind the details that for now. I need to know if you have any updates for me."
There's a heavy pause. "Apparently, La Alianza are hiding someone important in a compound in Guanajuato. I'm certain that someone important is Shtyk."
"So, it's not Toro alone. La Alianza backs him up."
"Looks like it."
"Can you get inside that compound?"
" Padrino , it's a fortress. Getting in will be… difficult. And it may take time."
My mind races, strategies unfurling like a chessboard. "Use every resource you can get."
"Got it."
"But be discreet, Costa," I warn, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Quiet as the grave. Careful as a cat. We can't afford to tip our hand."
"I won't let you down," he affirms softly, then adds, "Even though I don't approve."
"I'm the one making decisions," I remind him.
"I know. And I'm the one doing whatever you tell me to do. Still, your safety is my priority and the Russian keeps putting your life in jeopardy. He's not good for you."
"I decide who's good for me, Costa. I'll be fine."
"You do that, Padrino . Family needs you right now more than ever."
The line goes dead, and I'm left staring at the phone for a moment, feeling like I'm stuck in a maze with no exit, no matter how much I navigate it. There's this itch under my skin, the itch to do something.
But Vlad is right. Playing dead for the time being is smart.
So, for now, all I can do is wait, like a spider in the edge of a web, feeling for the slightest vibration that could be either its prey or a bigger predator. In this world, it's often hard to tell the difference until it's too late.
* * *
Time drags on after the call with Costa, hauling the day into the hushed embrace of evening and beyond. Most hours inside the suite slip by in a blur of news pages and familiar TV shows, distractions from the gloom lurking in my mind.
Did Vlad manage to persuade Vartan?
Or is Vartan now trying to play his own game?
I'm tempted to leave the room and stroll through the quiet hallway of the hotel's top floor just to stretch my legs, but I know if we're to keep up the charade just a little bit longer, it'll be risky.
Instead, I shake off the ominous thoughts and stand from the chair, my body craving a release from the tension coiled in my muscles. I cross the room and open the minibar, pouring two fingers of amber fire into a tumbler. I raise the glass to my lips, savoring the taste as the whiskey caresses my mouth and throat. For some reason, it reminds me of Vlad. Destructive and dangerous if consumed in big quantities. Addiction is inevitable.
Unfortunately for me, I'm long gone, any semblance of control in this relationship fully relinquished to the man with the steely-gray eyes.
I can't understand this attraction, this need to be next to him, to make sure he's unharmed. It's not in my nature to care about anyone but myself or select members of my family.
Yet, he's taken my dumb heart hostage and won't let go.
I pick up an iPad from the table and check the news, scrolling through articles. One headline catches my eye.
Anthony Morelli: Mogul of Las Vegas Real Estate Empire is Rumored to Be On His Deathbed
I click to expand the screen, skimming through the text.
Anthony Morelli has made a name for himself in both the real estate and entertainment industries. His establishment, Primavera, is widely renowned as one of the top authentic Italian restaurants in Las Vegas. In addition to his professional success, Morelli is also known for his philanthropic efforts, regularly donating to various charitable causes.
I'm halfway through the article, sipping my drink, when the words smear into meaningless stains.
I set the glass down, hard, my hand shaking. His empire, his legacy, all the things he can't entrust to his own son—all up in flames? Or will I be able to salvage some of it.
"No," I growl, my reflection in the window a ghostly witness to my determination. "Fuck you, Sal."
This isn't over yet. I have allies, contacts, favors owed. I have the resolve that has kept me alive in this cutthroat universe even after my father's death.
It's in the middle of my brooding, with the night in full swing, that a knock comes on the door.
A familiar tune. Knuckles against the wood. Once. Twice.
Then a soft click of the lock right before the door swings open and Vlad strides in. His presence immediately commands the temperature of the air in the room.
Somehow, the world stops for a second and I use this pause to drink him in, to savor the image. His dark hair is parted to the side and carefully slicked back, not a strand out of place. His suit is crisp and tailored, hugging his athletic frame like a second skin would.
"I'm sorry for the delay," he says smoothly, his eyes meeting mine across the space separating us. "Club demanded my attention, and I had some pressing matters to attend to."
I wave off his apology, gesturing for him to take a seat. "I trust it was productive?"
Vlad nods and loosens his tie while settling into the chair across from me. "Indeed. I've gathered some useful information that could help us. Help you and your cause." He stressed the last bit.
Then he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together. "But first, I have good news. The Armenians are meeting with your uncle tomorrow night at Lumina . A dinner, to discuss business. That's the cover."
My eyebrows shoot up, surprise and the ever-present tension in my gut a potent mix. "Tony's meeting with them personally?"
"Vartan demanded a face-to-face. So, hopefully," Vlad confirms. "We need to be prepared for any outcome, though. We actually don't know if Tony will come. Everyone's saying he is on his last breath. He could send his consigliere. Or your cousin can hijack the meeting."
"I think information about his poor health is exaggerated," I supply. "Last time we spoke, Tony was more or less fine. As fine as someone his age can be. Salvatore must have planted the info for the media to create panic. It serves his purpose. In any case, we'll need eyes and ears on the ground tomorrow," I muse aloud. "Someone we can trust to do this without drawing attention."
Vlad's lips curve into a rare sly smile. "Leave it to me, Romeo. My guys will handle security and the situation containment. Whatever the situation may be."
I lean back in my chair, studying him. Vlad's confidence is unwavering. That's who he is. But his loyalty to me and my goal leaves me speechless. Why is he doing this? Why hasn't he stabbed me in the back?
I have no explanation and, oddly, I don't want one.
I like the way things are between us. I like the danger of it, the thrill, the great sex, the developing trust, the simple intimacy without overthinking everything too much. But most of all I like the belonging. That strange feeling I lost long ago, possibly when I was just a baby, when my mother died, and then again, when my father was killed. All this time, it has felt as if I was suspended in the air, just bouncing in between places and people with no safety net.
With Vlad, the safety net is somehow there. I'm still not sure if it's strong enough to hold my weight when I fall. But it's there. After, all these years, it's returned.
That's why I can't shake this nagging feeling that we're standing on the edge of something monumentally life-changing.
I rise to my feet, the tension in my body yearning for release. And I know only one way to fix the problem. As I slowly approach Vlad, his eyes darken with desire. The air between us sparkles. It's that anticipation of having our bodies pressed up together in a relentless dance of dominance.
Although tonight, I don't want to fight for control. I just want to let it go and see where it takes me.
"You're always so put together," I murmur, reaching over to ruffle Vlad's perfectly styled hair. "Sometimes I want to mess you up a little."
Vlad looks up at me and chuckles. It's a low, seductive sound that sends heat cascading through my bloodstream. "Is that so? And here I thought you appreciated my impeccable taste."
My fingers trail down to his jawline, savoring the roughness of his light stubble. I tilt his chin up and he doesn't resist back. "Oh, I do. But right now, I want something different."
"Tell me."
"I want to taste you."
He licks his lips and turns his head into my touch, biting my index finger.
Before I get a chance to blink, his arms come around me, pulling me into his lap. I straddle his thighs, grinding myself against him.
His lips capture mine in a searing kiss. I melt into the demanding sensation, into his strong, sure embrace, and the stress of the day dissolves like smoke on the wind.
"You drive me crazy, Romeo," Vlad growls against my mouth. "Walking around in those sweatpants and a hoodie, looking like a damn Greek God taking a day off."
I grin, nipping at his lower lip. "You're the one to talk. I've been imagining peeling you out of this suit all day."
"I just got here."
"Been imagining all day anyway."
Vlad makes a throaty sound, something a lot like a strangled gasp. His strong hands slide under my sweatshirt, pushing it up and over my head. "Then what are you waiting for?"
"Are we done talking business?"
"Absolutely, moi dorogoi ."
We undress each other with frenzied urgency, scrambling to our feet. Buttons scatter across the floor as Vlad's shirt falls away. For a moment, I'm drawn to the splash of ink on his chest. I trace the dark lines with my fingertips. He allows me this curiosity, allows me to wonder what kind of man he is behind all the walls and masks.
Then our lips meet again, tongues tangling, teeth biting a little. Vlad's hands roam my back while I bury my hands in his hair, disheveling it entirely. When we pull back to get some air and restore our rugged breathing, I cup his cheeks with both palms.
"Now you're ready," I whisper.
Vlad leans into my touch, eyes fluttering shut for a fleeting moment. "You know I like to look my best for you, Romeo." His voice is a low purr, the kind that has shivers rolling down your spine and straight into your dick. "But anytime you want to undress me and suck my cock, I have no objections."
I laugh softly. "Look at that filthy mouth."
"You like that filthy mouth and what it does to you."
"Never said I didn't."
"I'm waiting."
"For what?"
"Stop pretending. A minute ago you said you wanted to taste me."
"Is that so?" I murmur, our faces inches apart. Vlad's cool gray eyes boring into mine are filled with a storm of desire. "I don't remember."
"Asshole." He grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks my head back, baring my neck. His lips find my Adam's apple, licking a trail across and down.
"Trying to impress me?" I choke out.
"Always," he breathes against my skin, before angling my head to capture my lips in a fiery kiss. It's a clash of tongues and teeth again. Sliding. Grazing. Our bodies—bare and electric—molding as if sculpted from a single form, cocks brushing with feverish heat.
We break apart, panting, a string of saliva connecting our bruised lips. "Fuck, Nico," Vlad groans. "I really need you to suck me now."
I chuckle darkly, dragging my mouth along the side of his cheek. "Ask nicely."
His brow arches up. "Are we doing this?"
"Oh, yes we are. You want me to suck your dick and I want you to beg me to do it. Even exchange. Don't you think?"
"I thought I made it clear who's in change," he whispers as his hand skims over my side and down to grab my ass cheek.
"Sure," I drawl, grinding myself against his hard thigh to get more friction.
"Fine," Vlad relents. "Please… Will you take my dick into your pretty mouth, Romeo?"
"I'll let you have this one, Hot Shot," I mutter in his year and steer us across the room and in the direction of the bed. We stumble backward in a tangle of limbs until the back of my knees hit the bed.
With a wicked grin, Vlad shoves me onto the mattress, crawling over me like a wild animal. His eyes rake over my body, a mix of reverence and raw hunger. "You're mine, Nicola Morelli," he growls, nipping at my earlobe. "And you'll do what I say."
Submission has never been something I craved, but at the sound of his voice, a whimper escapes my throat, and a need to yield coils tight in my belly.
Vlad slides up my body, his legs straddling my rib cage, and grabs my neck to still me. There's a spark of fear in my chest, but it only heightens the desire. He captures my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand as the other traces a searing path down my face. His fingers circle my mouth, then push past my lips and inside.
He whispers, "Open wide."
I obey instantly.
Vlad groans softly as he shoves his cock into my mouth. His head tilted forward slightly, just enough for his eyes to hold my gaze.
He pushes deeper, filling me up slowly but surely until I'm choking on him, until I fill him in my throat, fill the familiar stretch. My eyes water. Just then, he draws back just enough to watch me gagging on his length before pushing back in with force, fucking my face.
"Yes," he moans hoarsely. "Take it all."
A wet, obscene sound escapes me as I suck him greedily. Drool leaks out of the corners of my mouth, and he just moans louder. I lose myself in the sensation of serving him—of his thick cock pushing in and out of my throat.
He pulls out completely, his length is hard and glistening with my saliva, and my own cock is wound so tight that I swear to fucking God, I'm ready to come. Hands-free.
My mind is hazy, thoughts scattered like ashes in the wind. All I can focus on is the delicious weight of his body pressing me into the mattress.
"Not yet," Vlad mutters between his scratchy moans as he gives himself a few strokes. His pre-cum drips onto my chin, and I attempt to lick it off.
He swipes his finger over the drop and drives the finger into my mouth. "Suck it. Suck it good, Nico."
I do as he says, tongue swirling over flesh while my hips buck involuntarily and my cock fucks the air.
Before I can catch my breath, Vlad pulls out his finger from my mouth, flips me onto my stomach, and squeezes my ass cheeks roughly with both hands.
A broken cry tears from my throat, head arching off the bed as Vlad begins to stroke me, slow and firm, right there, between my ass cheeks. Something sparks at the base of my spine and shoots straight into my balls. White-hot and all-consuming.
"Fuck, Vlad!" My fingers twist in the sheets, desperate for an anchor in the onslaught of sensations.
"That's it, Nico," Vlad coaxes, thumb circling over the tight ring. "Let go for me. Let me see you come undone."
I have no words. We never fucked each other. Never truly talked about it. But I wondered. Wondered if I'd ever allow him this. Because he'd never allow me to be the one to do the fucking. Wondered if I'd love it. Wondered if he'd be gentle or rough.
"I can make you feel real good, baby," Vlad purrs into my ear, his finger continuing to work my asshole. "You'll enjoy it." Pause. "Do you want it?"
"Yes," I moan, voice hoarse and desperate.
He disappears momentarily, the imprint of his body still lingering. The mattress dips as he moves toward the edge. Drawer slides open, then shuts closed. I can't see him, but I can hear the sound of the condom wrapper. He straddles my legs and rests both palms on the back of my thighs. They wander up and over my ass, squeezing my ass cheeks hard. His thumbs brush over my hole. Once. Twice.
I jerk on the bed, hip bucking upward exposing more of me to him, inviting him further into this charged space between presence and want.
He leans in closer, his breath a warm whisper against my skin as his words drip between us. "You can't wait to have my cock inside you, can you now, Romeo?"
The atmosphere in the room suddenly hums with unspoken desires—quiet as a held breath but louder than any shout in this empty space.
He spreads my buttocks and runs his tongue along the crevice between them.
God almighty!
I moan in reply, my cock leaking onto the sheets. A cool, slick feeling envelops my hole, and runs through my body and toward my limbs. My toes curl.
Vlad continues flicking his tongue over my asshole, teasing it and wetting it with his saliva.
"Tell me you want me inside you," Vlad growls, teeth scraping against the sensitive ring of muscle.
"Fuck, yes. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me so hard."
"That's right…" He moves deliberately, his tongue slipping beyond the barrier. I feel myself opening up to him, I feel my entrance loosening as he starts moving up and down, fucking my ass. Each motion is precise, rhythmic, like a practiced dance.
His breath is hot against my skin in soft bursts and my pulse quickens to match the tempo. There's a compelling mix of exhilaration and vulnerability coursing through me. It's addicting, this surrender to raw power like his.
At some point, Vlad draws back and I can hear him panting behind me. Panting with barely contained need.
He runs his index finger over my slicked hole and then pushes the tip inside a little. My body reacts immediately, muscles constricting around the intrusion.
"Oh, you are so ready," he murmurs, then slaps my ass and adds, "Turn around. Let me see your face, beautiful."
I do as he says, rolling over onto my back and staring up at him. His eyes are on fire, devious. My hand reaches out to wrap around my aching cock, but he swats it away.
"Not yet." His command is loud and clear—he is the one in charge. And I obey, whether or not I want it. It's in every fiber of my being—to submit to him tonight. To be the one on the receiving end.
He grabs my ankles and spreads them apart, pushing my knees to my chest. His eyes rake down my body, from my face to my dick and back up again.
"You're so fucking perfect like this with your hole begging for me and your cock ready to spill."
With that, he positions himself at my entrance. His movement is slow, almost teasing, as he presses against me.
I let out a sharp breath, feeling the unfamiliar stretch as he slowly pushes his cock into me—challenging me in ways I never imagined. A perfect blend of discomfort and anticipation crackles like static energy through my nerves.
I gasp at the pain of intrusion.
"Relax, Nico," he whispers hoarsely. "I won't hurt you… Unless you ask me to."
But my brain is mush, unable to comprehend anything. I'm zeroed in on the multitude of sensations the act of penetration brings.
Vlad's hand glides over my legs and down to my dick. He gives it a few strokes, murmuring something in Russian.
"Squeeze it harder," I mewl, needing the friction.
"Not yet." He drives his cock further and I feel him brushing something inside me that bursts into a million tiny stars at the edges of my vision. I grab at the sheets and suck in air as he begins to thrust, slow and deep. It burns at first, but then the pain fades, turning into something different, something wild. A warmth starts to build. And all that's left is an aching need that only Vlad can fill.
"You're so tight," he groans, pistoning his hips as his fingers curl into my flesh hard. "Goddamn, you feel good." He changes the angle and an unbelievable fullness engulfs me as he sinks deeper and deeper, stretching me further than I ever thought possible.
Vlad pauses for a second and gives me a moment to adjust to the position before he starts moving again, rocking his hips forward and backward in a slow, sensual rhythm. He moans and groans with each thrust, and it spurs me on more than I care to admit. It's divine, his touch.
The pressure building in my balls is nearing the breaking point, but I don't want it to end. Ever.
"Grab your cock," he orders without breaking his rhythm.
I do as he says.
"Jerk yourself off."
I start working my hand. Up and down. Fingers wrapped around my shaft tight.
Vlad grips my hips tighter too, every muscle in his body tense as he fucks me harder and harder until neither of us can hold back any longer.
"You're mine now," he whispers. "No one else gets to have you like this. Only me. You hear me, Nicola."
"Yes."
"Say it."
"I'm yours."
"That's right. You're mine." He shuts his eyes and his head tilts back.
The climax comes in fast, obliterating everything, as I come, spurting hot jets of cum all over Vlad's stomach and chest.
"Fuuuck," he grits out, through clenched teeth right before he explodes deep inside me, hot semen pouring into my ass. I can feel it even through the condom—this hot fullness. And I almost wish we didn't use one, so I could feel it for real. His mark, the trace of him in me.
Vlad nearly collapses but manages to stop himself from falling completely with his hand propped on the mattress. His cock is still inside me, filling me up.
"Don't want to leave you just yet, Nico," he rasps out.
But I have no words to give him. Not now anyway. My heart is pounding in my ears and my entire body is shaking in the aftermath of what just happened between us—a line crossed that can never be uncrossed.
For a few seconds, we simply breathe, trying to restore some semblance of reality around us.
Finally, he pulls out, disposes of the condom, and drops on the bed next to me.
I'm still trembling as the tiny aftershocks ripple through my body, my mind hazy and overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. Vlad remains speechless as I lie there, boneless and sated, my thoughts sluggish and disjointed as I try to process the enormity of what just transpired.
Our chests rise and fall in tandem while we stare up at the ceiling. The room is silent save for our breathing, the air heavy with the musky scent of sex and sweat.
"I wasn't lying," Vlad whispers eventually, his voice soft but resolute.
I turn my head to look at him, brows furrowing in confusion. "About what?"
Vlad shifts onto his side, facing me, his gray eyes severe and unwavering. "About you belonging to me."
My breath catches in my throat, my heart stuttering at the rawness in his statement.
Vlad reaches out, his fingers gentle as they brush a stray lock of hair from my forehead before he leans in to press a tender kiss to the same spot.
"No one can really own anything," I murmur.
Vlad shakes his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Not that kind of ownership you're thinking."
I frown, confused. "What kind then?"
"I'll take care of you now," Vlad promises, his hand cupping my cheek. "Help you get what you deserve. If I can make you happy, then it'll make me happy."
A warmth blooms in my chest, spreading through my veins like honeyed sunlight. In this moment, in Vlad's arms, the chaos is suddenly replaced by a sense of contentment I haven't known before. At least not in a long time.