Page 72 of Raziel
Alessia obviously heard nothing I said.
“You promised your mother!” she screamed, breaking into hysterical tears. She lunged, grabbing my arm, her nails digging into my bicep. “You swore on her soul you would marry me! Are you really going to break that? For her? For that trash?”
I stopped. I slowly looked down at her hand on my arm, then back at her tear-streaked face. There was no guilt. No regret. Just a cold, vast emptiness.
I shook her off me like she was a stray insect. “The promise was made to a dying woman who was scared for her son. It was extracted under duress. It’s void.”
I walked toward the door.
“You won’t get away with this, Raziel!” Enzio finally found his voice, a weak, trembling thing. “You think your father will protect you when you’ve made an enemy of me? You’re disrespecting our arrangement! You’re spitting on tradition!”
I paused at the door, my hand on the knob. I didn’t turn around.
“The arrangement is dead,” I said, my voice quiet and final. “And your tradition is a weakness. My father doesn’t protect me from my enemies, Enzio. I do. Don’t make yourself one, Enzio.”
I took a step, then paused. “Consider this my resignation. I had only worked for him because he was supposed to be my in-law. Family helped family. I didn’t need him.”
I opened the door and walked out, leaving them in the ruins of their ambition.
Chapter Thirty Two- Maya
My body in this dress was a weapon. I knew it the moment I saw it hanging in the closet—the only flash of silver in Raziel’s endless sea of black that had overtaken my space. It clung to my every curve like spilled mercury. He’d bought everything I was wearing—the shoes, the clutch, the diamond chains that felt cold against my skin. He was spoiling me.I was allowing myself to be spoiled.
I stood in front of the full-length mirror, my fingers nervously fluffing my hair. I’d left it out, a big, curly afro haloing my head.
“You almost ready?” Raziel’s voice came from the doorway. He was already dressed in a tuxedo that cost more than my first car, looking like a vampire prince who’d just stepped out of a painting.
“Depends,” I said, not turning around. “Is this the part where you finally tell me why I’m playing dress-up?”
“It’s a gala. A friend of my father’s is hosting it. It’s time people met you.”
“Met me? Or met the girl you’re parading around to piss off your ex-fiancée?” The words were out before I could stop them. It had been weeks since the keyed car incident, since his visit to Alessia’s father. But I was still in my feelings. Especially since he was still answering her calls. I didn’t believe he wantedher, but the nice-guy shit got on my nerves. So what if he’d known her since they were kids? So what if his mother made him promise to marry her?
“What are you going on about now?”
He stepped into the room, his presence shrinking the space. “The car,” I pressed, my voice quieter. “You told me not to tell your father. Was that to protect her?”
His expression didn’t change, but a muscle in his jaw ticked. “No. It was to keep a contained problem from becoming an uncontained war. My father doesn’t believe in scaling his involvement. It would have escalated beyond repayment for a scratched door.”
“Okay, fine.” My lips pressed together. He probably wasn’t wrong—but I still didn’t like it.
I smoothed my dress and turned to face him, giving him a slow spin. “How do I look?”
His eyes dragged over me, slow and scorching. “Like someone’s last prayer… or their worst decision.”
I smirked. “Thank you. You’re so poetic, Ra. But I know I’m fine. Just tell me if I look like I belong.”
He stood, crossed the room in that quiet, looming way he had. “You don’t belong,” he said, hands brushing my waist as he adjusted the chains against my chest. “You outshine.”
I couldn’t help the smile that curved my lips. “Thank you.”
He stared at my mouth. He did that a lot. “I want more of a thank you than that.”
“Oh?” I took a step closer, the air between us crackling. He smelled like that expensive cologne they sold by the ounce and locked behind glass. “What kind of thank you?”
In a blink, his hands were on my waist, lifting me like I weighed nothing until we were face to face—me hovering above the floor, legs dangling, heart thumping like a damn drum solo.
My breath caught.
