Nicoli

By Sydney Landon

What do you do when you learn those closest to you are not who they appear to be? For a man as loyal as Nicoli Moretti it’s the ultimate betrayal. As the top lieutenant and best friend to the head of the Moretti family, he thought he knew everything about the man he considered a brother—but he was so very wrong. Still reeling from that blow, he discovers that not only did the woman he loves know before him, but she also has secrets of her own—ones that could well get her killed.

His thirst for revenge is almost overwhelming—yet so is his love for Minka Gavino. A relationship with someone from another mafia family would be complicated on a good day, but was it even worth fighting for now? Once the trust is gone, can it ever be rebuilt? Or, will he walk away from the only life he’s ever known and the only woman he’s ever loved?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sydney Landon
• Release date: Jun 8, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463519356

Sydney Landon

Sydney Landon is the New York Times & USA Today Best Selling author of: Weekends Required, Not Planning on You, Fall For Me, Fighting For You, Betting on You, No Denying You, Always Loving You, Pierced and Fractured. Sydney is currently working on the next book in the Danvers’ Series as well as the Pierced Series. When she isn’t writing, Sydney enjoys reading, swimming and the beach. She lives with her family in Greenville, South Carolina.

Book preview

Copyright © 2020 by Sydney Landon

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. 

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental. 

NICOLI

Formatting by Elaine York, Allusion Graphics, LLC

Table of Contents

Also by Sydney Landon

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

Connect With Me

Acknowledgements

Coming Soon

Also by Sydney Landon

The Danvers Novels

Weekends Required

Not Planning on You

Fall For Me

Fighting For You

Betting on You (A Danvers Novella)

No Denying You

Always Loving You

Watch Over Me

The One For Me

Wishing For Us

The Breakfast in Bed Series

Keeping it Hot

Room For Two (February 2018)

The Pierced Series

Pierced

Fractured

Mended

Rose

Aidan

Lee

Anthony

Marco

Sydney Landon writing as Ally James

From Alaska with Love

Nicoli

GOOD DAY AT the office, honey? I ask sarcastically as I watch the woman a few feet away unloading what looks like an arsenal. Very few people would guess that the voluptuous blonde staring back at me is in fact the daughter of Ray Gavino, head of the Gavino family. Of course, that’s a rather old-school description because not everyone in the mafia is related by blood. Unlike what the movies would have you believe, most of the successful organizations are more corporate now than gangster. Steal from us and we’re more likely to bankrupt your ass than to pop a cap in it. Unless you really fuck up. Then we’ll do both.

But neither Minka nor I are stupid. We grew up in the life and know well how dangerous it can be. There are strict rules and consequences. Fuck, we’re breaking a big one just by being together. For you newcomers, I should have pointed out at the beginning that I’m Nicoli Moretti, top lieutenant and best friend to the head of the Moretti Family—Marco Moretti. The fact that Marco himself fell in love with, and eventually married, Nina Gavino, stepdaughter to the late, and kinda fucking nuts, Franklin Gavino, surprisingly helped ease the nonfraternization rule. Although, there are many on both sides who do not like it. We both have trust issues where the other families are concerned. Neither of us takes offense though, as it’s simply the way of things. A smart person is wary of everyone and everything. But when you’re born mafia, it’s a part of your DNA. At a young age, you know the names of your rivals, and you draw a fucking line in the sand between you and them with your crayon.

Sure, business interests cross over at times, but it’s rare we place complete faith in outsiders. Which means a relationship between two such high-ranking rivals is tricky, to say the least. Even Marco, who certainly understands that you can’t always choose who you fall in love with, isn’t thrilled that Minka and I are still together. I think he was hoping we would fuck it out of our system quickly. Yet six months after the big mess of Marco’s mother taking out his father and attempting to kill Nina, we’re still fucking. Hell, we’re pretty much living together. And I have no clue what it means or where it’s going. In truth, I spend far too much time trying to dissect it. I feel like the pussy I’ve accused Marco of being in regard to Nina. Maybe it’s our lot in life to be the chicks in our relationships when they involve Gavino women. I’ll kill any motherfucker who verbalizes that shit.

My thoughts are brought abruptly back to the present when Minka sticks a hand down her black leather pants and pulls out a switchblade. Fuck, I love her—er, lust her. Those L words are tricky bastards. I lean back against the sofa and eye her lazily. See something you like, Nicole? she asks with the smirk I’ve become so accustomed to. And as insulting as it is, I’ve also accepted her deliberate mispronunciation of my name. Hell, I’ve long since stopped correcting her. Especially since I know she gets off on chapping my ass. And I get off on everything about her.

I shrug nonchalantly. Fucking the female version of Rambo has its moments. I nod to the weapons on the nearby table before adding, Isn’t that a bit much even for you? And there it is again—the tiniest shifting of her expression. Shit, most would never notice, but it practically rings alarm bells for me. What the fuck is she hiding? Even as I ask myself that question, I dismiss it. Just because we’re fucking doesn’t mean there’s any major exchanging of the information. She may live with me and be best friends with Nina, but she’s still a Gavino. Regardless of her disdain for most of her family, they’re still blood. And she’s no docile and sweet heir to the proverbial throne. The exact opposite. She’s a warrior who will kill to protect those she loves. She’s dangerous, and she doesn’t pretend to be anything other than what she is. Hence the stripping of weapons in front of me. A calculating woman would hide the fact that she rarely goes anywhere without being armed to the teeth. Possibly because she knows I understand and get off on it. But likely because she doesn’t give a good fuck what my opinion of her is. Thinking like a pussy again. Fuck me.

I don’t recall you ever walking out the door without protection. Why should I be any different? I’m likely a bigger target than you are, thanks to dear old Dad.

Your father is head of the second-biggest mafia family on the East Coast. We’re not talking PTA president here, Minxy. Her mouth twitches slightly at the nickname I’ve taken to calling her. I’d rather she calls me that than Nicole.

Exactly. So, why are you harassing me about it? You’d rather some punk looking to make a name for himself take me out?

My cock stirs to life as my eyes drop to linger on the tight leather pants she’s wearing. So fucking hot. Those things are a bitch to get off, but her ass looks amazing in them. It’s even better out of them, but—you get the picture. I motion toward her spike-heeled black boots before saying, I don’t think you’d need anything other than those to take care of business. But yeah, I feel you. Always better to be prepared for anything. We damn sure know by now to expect the unexpected. Even though months have passed since the utter mindfuck of Angelica Moretti’s betrayal, a glance at Minka’s haunted expressions tells me that we’re both sifting through the pain brought on by my careless choice of words. We stare at each other for a long moment, as if each waiting for the other to break the silence that has fallen between us.

Her eyes narrow as she prowls toward me, moving with the agility of a jungle cat. As exciting as it can be, when a woman like Minka Gavino fixates on you, even the bravest of men consider running. Or at the very least, covering the family jewels before one of her boots turns you into a permanent pussy. Unfortunately, I’ve never been the brightest guy where women are concerned, and this one has a hold over me that I don’t pretend to understand. I’m like a junkie who needs my daily fix of her to function. I’m worse than Marco. What in the hell happened to me? I don’t do relationships. Yet I can’t pretend that this is anything else. It might not be conventional, but we’re together and not seeing other people. We’ve never had the talk, nor are we likely to, but we’ve communicated without words since the beginning. Whatever the hell it is we’re doing is undefined, illogical, and downright foolish. Could be part of what makes it so damn exciting. Like dating someone your parents disapprove of just to annoy them. Yeah, that’s undoubtedly a part of it. Minka has always been a rebel, marching to her own beat and defying her family at every turn, and I’m certainly no Boy Scout. I’ve wondered before if she’s fucking me just to piss her old man off. Gotta admit, that one stings a bit. Like I haven’t done similar shit before.

Not sure what I’m expecting when she draws near, but she rarely disappoints. She stops inches away and extends a foot to kick my legs farther apart. I raise a brow in inquiry but wisely keep my mouth shut. Not because I’m afraid of what she’ll do but more like I don’t want to risk interrupting her. When I see the outline of her hard nipples against the thin white tank top she’s wearing, I know exactly what’s coming next. Or rather, who. Minka’s a giver. She gets off on sucking my cock. All right, I know what you’re thinking. All dudes like to believe their woman loves it. But let me assure you without sharing too many details that it turns her on. Moans and even orgasms can be faked, but wet panties cannot.

Now stop being so damn nosy. I’m trying to be a gentleman here.

Kill anyone today? she asks as calmly as if we’re discussing the weather. I long ago adjusted to her habit of small talk during sex. It had been distracting at first, which I have a sneaking suspicion is the reason she does it. Kind of like, let’s see if you’re man enough to stay hard while talking everything from business to the clearance rack at Target. Can’t complain, I got my favorite razors half price after my last blow job.

She drops down between my knees and raises a hand to the zipper of my jeans. Nope. You?

Not even close. She snorts. This peace is making me antsy. With anyone else, I’d find that statement dramatic, but I have had similar thoughts myself lately. Calm before the storm? Not that it’s always chaos. Far from it. Well, other than some unusually fucked-up occurrences in the distant past. Still, you can usually count on the small-time wannabes acting out. But nada. It’s enough to make my balls sweat. Something’s coming—but what? That thought has a double meaning soon after as I shoot my load into Minka’s eager mouth and watch through heavily lidded eyes as she relishes every drop, then licks one from her lips that almost got away.

Your turn. I wink as I use the hand that’s tangled in her hair to pull her to me. I’m pondering cutting her leather pants off rather than wresting them down her legs when my phone buzzes from the nearby table. Minka doesn’t bother sulking or trying to keep me from answering it. Instead, she leans forward and picks it up. I see her glance briefly at the display before passing it to me. I do the same a second later before answering the call. What up, bro? Marco might be the big boss, but he’s still the same person. So many of the guys kiss his ass now, but I’m not, nor will I ever be, one of them.

Need you back at the office five minutes ago, he says without preamble. He doesn’t explain himself, but it’s not necessary. His tone says it all. Unless I’m wrong, which is rare, something significant has gone down. In a fucked-up way, I’m almost giddy with anticipation. Whereas others might find comfort in the routine, I feel only boredom. I crave excitement, although not quite to the level we’ve had. Somewhere between the apocalypse and playing checkers should be about right.

Minka has already moved from my lap and is sitting beside of me. Gotta go, I toss out as I stand and zip my pants. Thanks to her talented mouth, there’s no mess to clean up. She nods once, appearing indifferent, but I know that’s far from the case. She doesn’t ask questions because she understands the limitations of our relationship. Plus, I’m not stupid. Our interests are too closely aligned for her to disregard my hasty exit. She’ll be checking with her contacts before I’m even in the Escalade. I’d do the same—hell, I have. Maybe that’s why I don’t have a problem with it. It’s simply another in a long list of reasons that we work so well together. We don’t attempt to change who we are for the sake of the relationship. Why would we? I damn well know she’s not the Tupperware lady. Unless they’re selling guns now instead of those plastic containers that I toss in the trash instead of washing.

I should be stressed out at the unknown before me, but I find myself whistling as I navigate the heavy traffic of Asheville, North Carolina, on my way to the Moretti offices. Hey, what were you expecting? That we’d meet in the back of some Chinese restaurant where Marco would wait for me to take a knee and kiss his ring while he shoveled in fried rice? Give us some credit here. We evolved past that long ago. Hell, I don’t know that we ever did anything so amateur. No, the Morettis are a corporation and have been for some time. We have more legit businesses than questionable ones. Fuck, we don’t bother to kill those who wrong us. Well, not always. Instead, we’ll cripple them from behind a desk. In truth, it’s more torturous to bankrupt a man and leave him with nothing than to put a bullet in him. The first ensures a long degree of suffering while the second is over before they can piss themselves.

I slow the black Escalade and turn into the familiar drive ahead. Even though I’m well-known here, I’m still detained at the gate while guards scan my vehicle for threats. After Marco’s BMW was blown to hell less than a year ago, stricter security was put in place. Makes me grateful to the technology gods; otherwise, I’d likely be enduring a cavity search right now instead of a quick X-ray. I’m cleared a moment later, and I slide into my assigned space. I attempt to school my expression into one of seriousness as I’m buzzed in the door of the office. There’s no smiling receptionist to greet you. Mainly because we don’t have outsiders here. The family is well-known in this area, which means only the truly stupid would attempt to enter these grounds knowing who occupies it. And the chances of them making it this far are basically zero.

After rounding one last corner, I stand before Marco’s office. Raising my hand, I knock once before opening the door. With one look at his white face, the excitement I’ve been feeling deflates. I’m far from a pussy, but the momentary urge to turn and flee washes over me, but then I shake it off. We’ve been to hell and back—several times. Together, we can handle anything. However, a short time later, I’ll be forced to accept that I may be wrong—for the first time ever.

Minka

A grin tugs at my lips as Nic takes off at a fast clip. I almost feel sorry for him. It was kind of adorable how excited he was when Marco summoned him. I figure that’ll last all of five minutes when he finds out what the urgent problem is. Well, unless it’s something other than what I know. The timing, though, makes that doubtful. Normally, I’d be making some inquiries, but it’s not necessary this time. Instead, I stroll through the apartment to the bedroom. I wonder as I always do why I keep wearing leather pants when they’re hell to get off after a long day. They certainly make you plan; otherwise, you’d have a lot of accidents on the way to the bathroom. Makes me envious of those little dresses that Ni wears so often. Unfortunately, they’re not very practical on my Ducati Desmosedici D16RR. Personally, I’d been happy with my Kawasaki Ninja, but the Ducati was a gift from my father. I’d argued, saying at two hundred thousand dollars, it was absurdly extravagant, but considering how much he hated me riding a bike, I was oddly touched at his trust in my ability to stay in one piece. That’s not to say he doesn’t still try to talk me into driving something more sensible at every opportunity, but it’s yet another thing we have agreed to disagree on. Sorry, Daddy, no man will ever tame me—not even you.

I toss the last of my clothing aside and step into the decadent shower. I let the water cascade upon me for a few blissful moments before I reach for my body wash—and freeze. What am I doing? I have no business being here. Mistake. The bottle slips from my suddenly lax fingers to the tiles below, and I watch it as if fascinated by the way it bounces twice, then comes to a rest sideways by my feet. I sink down beside it until I’m lying in the fetal position as the water pulses against my back. Even in my near catatonic state, I understand that it’s not the damn soap that’s jarred me, but the familiarity of its location. How I found it amid half a dozen other items without even looking first. It spoke of routines, normalcy—of home. All of which were dangerous to me and everyone around me. Especially Nic.

I’d never been homeless in the traditional sense. I have a physical address in not only my family home but my own apartment as well. But those are simply tools of my trade. A part of the persona. After all, my father would question his daughter having no residence as would anyone else who might be digging around into my background. Yet at some point, I’ve put down roots here—with him—and I have no clue when it happened. He was never in my plans. My life is not my own and never has been. First and foremost, it belongs to the Gavino Mafia and secondly to the ATF. There are only two things I’ve ever allowed myself . . . Nina and now Nic. Ni because I was young and so fucking lonely, and Nic, well, for the same reason really. Only this time, I’m older, yet in some ways, I’m more alone than I’ve ever been. I don’t know how that’s even possible, considering I not only have friends but also . . . a boyfriend. The only person in my circle who would understand my inner struggle is Marco. After all, until recently, he lived a double life as well. But since the fucking mess with his mother, he’s taken a leave of absence from the FBI. And I’m not sure he’ll ever return. Like me, he’s walked both sides and at one time, loved it. But with Ni by his side and so many changes on the horizon, he really can’t afford to take those kinds of risks any longer. He has so much to lose. But that’s Marco’s story. Mine is very different. I’m still straddling both worlds, and until someone takes me out, I’ll continue to do so. I don’t have much to lose . . . Ni would shed a tear, but that would be it. I’m Nicoli’s toy, but who knows how long he’ll keep me around? Would anyone mourn me if I were gone?

Fucking hell. I get to my feet as I begin shutting the mental doors in my mind. These are exactly the kinds of thoughts that would have me brought in for a psych evaluation should Hawk Malone zero in on it. And God knows the man is so insightful it’s scary. He has an unsettling gift for knowing—well, everything. The funny thing is, he’s with the FBI, so he shouldn’t be my boss—but since he recruited me years ago when I was on a weekend trip to New York for his long-running operation Cypher, he’s basically always been in charge of decisions pertaining to me.

I’ve been fascinated by Malone since the beginning. He had all the qualities that made a young woman sit up and take notice. He was tall, dark, handsome, and powerful in a law-abiding way. He was different, and I found that incredibly intriguing and exciting. Even after all these years, he’s still very much an enigma. He’s the most brilliant and driven man I’ve ever known. His life is the FBI, and he makes no excuses for it. To become personally involved with him, you must accept that you will always come in a distant second. And that’s exactly what he explained to me the first time we slept together almost twelve years ago. Malone was fully willing to bend the rules when it meant putting bad guys away, yet I’m certain I’m the only time he’s ever done it for personal reasons.

Our relationship would seem complicated to anyone on the outside, yet to us, it was effortless. We were fiercely attracted to each other almost from the beginning, and one evening a couple of years into my training, we fucked for the first time. I could romanticize it and say we made love, but neither of us was capable of that back then. For all his nerdy qualities, he was a very attractive man, and the power he wielded made