Novels by Nico

Ethan's POV Evening sits on my shoulders like a soaked coat—heavy, suffocating. I’ve been pacing the same strip of carpeted floor in my living room for over an hour now, waiting for a call that hasn’t come. The phone’s on the table, screen face up, and every time it lights up, I nearly twist my neck snapping around to check it. Still nothing. No message. No threat. No update.Silence.That thug should’ve called by now. Should’ve sent a text, a picture, something. Proof that the housekeeper was taken. That the job was done. I paid good money for swift execution, not radio silence.But here I am. Waiting.I rake both hands through my hair, frustration buzzing in my jaw. And underneath it, something worse—fear. Not the surface kind either. The real kind. The kind that crawls under your skin and pulses against your ribcage. The kind that knows you crossed a line too deep to walk back from.I shouldn’t have laid hands on her.My housekeeper. The annoyingly curious woman who never knew whe

Leah’s POV The door to Dwight's office clicks shut behind me, the sound final, almost hollow. I take the stairs down this time instead of the elevator, needing movement, needing the air, needing anything that isn’t Dwight’s silence echoing in my ears.The moment I step outside, the city air hits me. Not quite fresh, not quite foul—just New York, as usual. The wind tosses my hair as I walk toward my Audi, fingers curling tighter around the keys. My heels click against the pavement, each step a drumbeat of emotion I refuse to name. I slide into the driver’s seat, shut the door, and stare through the windshield.For a long moment, I just sit there. Let the noise of the street muffle into background static. Dwight's office felt like a closing chapter, the kind of ending I hadn’t prepared for, no matter how many times I told myself I was over him.I hadn't expected him to be so cold. Or to take the resignation so seriously.I shut my eyes as I recall the outburst in his conference room, a

Ethan's POV The knock comes hard—three quick raps against the front door. I glance up from the laptop screen, where Leah's pictures are littered all over. I'd saved dozens and dozens of pictures since we'd gotten together. Way before we got together...Leah had always been a fantasy. A delightful woman. A sweet little reward I couldn't wait to have—The knock comes again, harder this time, interrupting my thoughts.I don’t call out to announce that the door’s open. I don’t have to. The bastard walks in like he owns the place—like every lock and latch is beneath him. The air changes when he enters. Heavy. Stale. The scent of sweat and something coppery clings to him like a second skin.He steps into the living room, boots leaving faint marks on the pristine tile. His jacket is slung low, his knuckles scraped and red. And I notice—he sees the broken bottle near the bar, the puddle of whiskey dark against the floor. His eyes pass over it, but he doesn’t mention it. Good. Smart."Where a

Dwight’s POVThe moment I see her, my chest tightens.I hadn’t expected her to show up. Not after everything that happened in Greece. Not after the things I said—the things I should never have said. And yet, here she is. Standing right by my desk, not flinching, not hesitating, not saying a word.I don’t know why she’s here. Maybe it’s the fire. Maybe she heard about the damage and thought I needed... what, comfort? Closure? Pity?I glance beyond her shoulder toward the office door, where Jordan and the two security consultants had exited just moments before. They had barely left when Carter quietly motioned toward her, and now she’s standing in my office, looking as composure as ever. I take a moment to study her, taking in the long gray skirt that hugs her in the laugh places, as well as the I wey silk blouse that molds against her frame. My eyes linger around her chest and the memory of how delectable she'd looked that night in her hotel room back in Greece bombards. I suddenly

Leah’s POV I’ve been waiting for over an hour.At first, I was patient. Understanding, even. Maybe he was caught up. Maybe something urgent had come up. Maybe Carter had forgotten to let me know that Dwight would be a while. But now—now I’m just restless.My fingers tap incessantly against the arm of the leather chair. The soft whoosh of the central air system is the only sound in the room, aside from the ticking of the minimalist wall clock. I’ve checked my phone more times than I care to admit. No messages. No missed calls.I've tried to keep myself occupied with a few word games, but not even that can keep me from overthinking.Does Dwight even want me here? Had he truly written me off after he left Greece?I think about that night again... About his confession, those brutal truths I'd stopped myself from thinking about, afraid that if I did, I'd go insane. Or worse...I'd realize that maybe Dwight was truly not the problem. Maybe it was me all along. Maybe it was my impatience...

Ethan's POVThe rage hasn't left me.It's still pulsing—white-hot and unrelenting—beneath my skin like magma, ready to erupt. I pace the floor, each step echoing against the marble tiles. My fingers twitch restlessly. Every few seconds, I glance down at my phone. The last message I had sent him stares mockingly back at me.Did she look... happy?I want to know more than anything. Had my absence in her life caused her to sigh out in relief?Was she mourning me—the way she had mourned Dwight? Or was I just a pesky fly she had been dying to get rid of?I scan my phone screen again... waiting... anticipating. But no text bubble shoots up, nothing to indicate that the thug is getting ready to respond.He'd better not be messing with me. If he's holding out, making me wait on purpose, I'll break his damn face the next time I see him.I'm not in the mood.Not when Leah's out there, gallivanting like nothing happened. Like she hadn't just ghosted me, like she hadn't stopped picking my calls,