Page 53 of Raziel
As we moved toward the table, she leaned in and whispered, “Are you falling for me, Ra?”
Her voice was velvet mischief against my ear.
I didn’t answer. Didn’t have to. She knew the answer.
Chapter Twenty- Maya
The dining room smelled like rosemary and seared meat, the kind of rich, warm scent that could almost make you forget there was tension sitting at the table with you. I sat across from Raziel’s father, my fork untouched.
He looked just like Raziel, but harder—less polish, more menace. Grey streaked his dark hair, but it didn’t make him look old, just seasoned.
Raziel’s stepmother, was introduced with nothing more than “this is my stepmother,” was a plump, pretty woman with warm eyes and a softness that clung to Raziel like a secret.
I wasn’t nervous.
“So, you’re the one,” his father said out of nowhere.
“I guess I am,” I answered with a small smile. Out of the corner of my eye, Raziel smirked and poured me more wine.
“Tell me something about yourself.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but it carried weight—like my answer would be catalogued and revisited.
Raziel leaned back in his chair, one arm draped over the side, gaze fixed on me like he was waiting to see how deep I’d go.
He probably thought I’d lie. Thought I’d dress it up. But I wouldn’t. I’d done everything people whispered about me doing. I wasn’t ashamed—not around people like them. They were worse than me—killers, men who built empires on other people’sblood. I’d only ever destroyed myself, never anyone else’s life. Well… maybe Maya’s, but she got Priest out of the deal.
“I’ve been through a lot,” I said, lifting my chin. “Addiction. Bad choices. People think that’s my whole story, but it’s not. I graduated college, dual enrollment for social work and criminal justice. I’m smart. I’m resilient.”
For a second, something flickered in Raziel’s eyes—approval, pride—before it vanished.
“That’s impressive,” his father said. “Do you see yourself on drugs again?”
His stepmother shifted, her hand fluttering like she could wave the question away.
“Maybe we could—”
“It’s okay,” I told her, never looking away from him. “No. Because it broke my sister’s heart. She’s the one person who never gave up on me. I won’t do that to her again.”
He tapped a finger on his wine glass. “Do you know who I am?”
I glanced at Raziel. He had one eyebrow raised. He knew his father. Testing me.
“I know exactly who you are, sir,” I said. “Head of a powerful Italian crime family. Father to a man running from a legacy most people would kill for. Because of who my brother-in-law is,” I clarified—but left the other reason I knew who he was unsaid.
Raziel’s jaw flexed. His father’s mouth curved in a smile, but his eyes stayed cold. “And you think you could handle what comes with this family if something happens between my son and you?”
“Yes.” No hesitation. “I’m built for it.”
Later, in the Car
Streetlights carved gold slashes across Raziel’s profile as he drove, his hand loose on the gearshift. Silence filled the car until he finally spoke, fifteen minutes in.
“So you knew who I was all along?”
“Yes.” I smirked. “I’m obsessed with you. Or something like that.”
He shot me a glance, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “Obsessed, huh?”
“Are you asking me why?”
