Page 54 of Raziel
“No,” he said flatly. “Because I’m afraid you’d tell me.”
I leaned back. “Fine. Can I ask you something?” I didn’t wait. “Why are you playing lackey for Alessia’s father when your father is who he is?”
His gaze stayed forward. “Parental issues.”
I smiled, leaning close enough for my shoulder to brush his, close enough for him to breathe me in. “Me too. See? We have so much in common.”
Then I kissed him, just the side of his mouth, before pulling back and turning to the window.
In the glow of the night, I knew tonight meant something—but what exactly did it mean? I was too afraid to ask.
Chapter Twenty One- Maya
I hadn’t seen him in five days. Not since he’d dropped me off from the airport. Not a call. Not a text. Not even a fucking “you alive?” to let me know I hadn’t hallucinated the entire trip to New York.
Five days ago, Raziel introduced me to his father.
Not as “some girl,” not as “nobody,” but with his hand resting low on my back like he was afraid I’d vanish. Then he vanished again. But when I thought about it, he hadn’t really introduced me with a title. I had so many questions. I wondered if he knew his father had given me his phone number and told me to call him if I needed anything. I wondered what that meant.
I touched the black diamond pendant on my neck. He’d given it to me later that same night. He hadn’t told me why or said any sweet words, just clasped it around my neck.
My pride wouldn’t let me call or text him first, though. I had already taken so many steps toward him; he was going to have to make an effort.
I didn’t like the way he treated his stepmother, but I could tell she loved him. I stayed out of that. I knew how messy parental issues could be.
The next day, he took me shopping on Fifth Avenue. Let me drag him into stores he’d never set foot in alone, watched with amused patience as I held up silk dresses to my body. “Youwant it?” he’d asked every time, already reaching for his wallet. I’d rolled my eyes, but my chest had gone warm.
That night, in the hotel, he’d kissed my forehead before he left me to sleep. Just a brush of his lips, so soft I almost thought I imagined it.
And then—nothing.
Radio silence.
So when Carla texted me—“Babysitter secured. Drinks, non-alcoholic tonight or I’m disowning you.”—then she texted me the address. It was Raziel’s club. My heart sped up. Would he be there? I said yes before I could overthink it.
I wasn’t going to his club to find him. Not for him, I told myself. For me.
I was going because I needed to remember how to breathe without waiting for my phone to light up with his name.
I pulled on yellow. Soft buttercup. The color made my skin glow like honey under the right light. The dress clung to me, off-the-shoulder, long-sleeved, hugging every dip and curve like it was sewn with my body in mind. My curls framed my face, gloss slicked my lips, and I dabbed perfume behind my knees—just in case they ended up in the air later.
Carla whistled when I opened the door. “Damn, who’s the lucky victim?”
“Nobody,” I said, and linked my arm through hers.
Carla wasn’t just my sponsor; she was my blueprint. Twenty years older than me and twenty-five years sober, dark-skinned with a wild afro that seemed to pulse like it was alive. She could walk into anywhere, brush off the drinks, and it wouldn’t even bother her. I wanted her strength tucked under my own skin one day. It helped that she was actually a therapist with a PhD. She was married to Milo, a lawyer who loved her like she was sugar.
The club was full and throbbing when we got there, bass vibrating up through the soles of my heels. Carla dragged me to the bar, ordered Pepsis. I was proud of myself when I didn’t even look around for Raziel.
But then—
She dragged me up to the VIP section she’d reserved for us.
Of course he was there.
Raziel lounged in the center of the booth like a king holding court, surrounded by men in tailored suits and women in dresses that cost more than my rent. A cigar dangled from his fingers, smoke curling around his jaw. He looked good. Fresh cut, Cuban link against his throat and on his wrist, shirt unbuttoned just enough to show the edge of his tattoo.
My stomach flipped.
