Novels by Angelina

ENORATonight, I made a deal with the devil against my will, and I had a feeling it would cost me my life.When I walked into the Lantsov club an hour ago, I had no idea what the heck I was doing or why I was even there. But after I met Nikolai, an idea flashed through my brain. Killing two birds with one stone, that’s exactly what I was going to do.I was between two devils I needed to destroy: my papa and Nikolai. Nikolai was notorious and ruthless, so I’d heard, but he appeared a saint compared to my papa. For instance, my papa would have shot me on sight if I’d launched an attack on his club, but Nikolai didn’t.I’d use him to bring my papa down since I’d rather not have his blood in my hands. Then I’d kill Nikolai and burn this fucking underworld to the ground—it didn’t matter if I burned along with it.The problem was, Nikolai wanted me to marry him, and I would rot six feet under before I dared to marry someone like him. “You’re crazy.”His lips curled into a crooked smile,

Enora paused when she reached the couch and spun to face me. “It’s nothing.” She sat down and stared at the walls that were the color of her eyes. I knew she was lying by the way she avoided my gaze.“Do not lie to me, malysh.” My voice was harsh with rage and this strange thirst for blood—blood of the one who hurt her. I stood from my swivel chair, went to her, and dragged her up from the cushion before examining her back. Red and purple lines crossed each other countless times, and the skin around them was crimson, darker than red.I ran my finger on them, causing goosebumps to appear on her skin. “Who did this to you, malysh?” I asked again, hearing the roar in my voice.Enora swallowed. “It’s nothing.” It was something, and it all made sense. Her entering my territory even after I’d threatened to kill her the next time we meet, her bare feet, her pale face, and misty eyes.“Listen, malysh.” I tilted her chin up and peered straight into her gray eyes. “The day I find out who di

[Nikolai]The first thing I noticed was the way the tips of her hair made contact with her shoulder. Most men liked women with long hair, but I liked mine to be distinct—short hair with smoky eyes was my kink. And that was exactly how she looked when she walked into my club, fearlessly.Enora Patrizio didn’t strike me as a woman who would be stupid enough to walk into a den of vipers, so there could be only two reasons she would do so.One: this was a fucking trap, probably set up by Carlos Patrizio.Two: she was actually stupid.I preferred to go with the first option because the second wasn’t only very unlikely, but it was safer never to underestimate your enemies. And as it seemed, I had more enemies than friends.Our gazes were locked on each other, hers cautious, mine observing. Her gray eyes glittered something sad in the disco lights, her lashes were wet, her black mascara smeared beneath her eyes. She looked nothing like she did when I first met her a week ago. I supposed th

[Enora]The laughter from the foyer was poison to my ears. Papa had told me he’d signed me off like property, but not who my soon-to-be husband was.I glanced at the ice bucket arranged with unopened whiskey, swallowing my saliva to keep from grabbing a bottle and gulping it down. I was curious—desperate—to meet my new owner. Knowing Papa, I’d be surprised if my groom was a prospect, but the deep, old voice from the foyer suggested otherwise.A whirlwind swept my thoughts to Nikolai. Not that I liked him—he was forty-two, almost twice my age. Yet, with dark gelled hair and toned muscles beneath his suit, he didn’t look his age.My God, what was I thinking?The voices drew closer, spiders creeping up my spine. My jaw dropped as Mario Luigi, Papa’s underboss, entered. Older than Papa by six years, he even had a son ten years my senior. Maybe I’d marry the son, not him.“Enora,” Papa called. Mario kissed my hand disgustingly. “You’re just as beautiful as always,” he said, eyes on my

[Enora]Nikolai Lantsov was killable, and that was all I needed to know. He was like every other egotistical man in the mafia world, looking down on women and feeling impenetrable. Too bad his death would be at the hands of a woman—me.I’d probably thank him before I killed him; I’d always hated my long hair because my papa had a weird obsession with it. When drunk, he’d call me Isabella. Was that my mother’s name? If he loved her, why ensure I had nothing to remember her by?Nikolai’s pale blue eyes and large frame filled my mind. I’d sworn never to get blood on my own hands, but if it meant ridding New York of a tyrant, I’d have a blood bath. My father was just as bad, but I couldn’t kill him—not yet. First, I’d use his power to destroy Nikolai. Ricco’s death confirmed Nikolai wasn’t immortal. Loyal to papa for 27 years, Ricco deserved more than a simple *okay* before papa sent me a second job: a mother and her son, Pedro. As the breeze carried the scent of roses, I imagined a

[Nikolai]I have no issue killing women for one reason: my enemies have no gender. But no woman had ever had the balls to point a damn gun at me—until now. This tiny woman standing in front of me with her ass pressing against my dick was the first one. And she hadn’t just pointed a gun; she’d dared to try and kick me in the balls. The thought sent adrenaline through my veins as I tightened my arms around her small neck, threatening to squeeze the life out of her if she moved the wrong way. Her white hair reeked of strawberry and lavender, masking the stench of alcohol, death, and nitroglycerin. I wrapped the length of it twice in my hands, yanking her head back painfully. She stiffened, her trembling legs betraying the fear she tried to hide. I wondered if she was cursing me or swearing to kill me. Not that it mattered. The chances of me fucking her life out of her were far greater than her taking mine. “Go, malysh (Little one),” I whispered hoarsely in her ear. “Tell him