Page 78 of Raziel
“Thank you, Mr. Mercier.”
“Raffaele, please.”
He held my chair for me—an old-world gesture that felt natural coming from him. We made small talk about the weather, the city, Serena’s roses. He was easy to talk to, his presence calibrated just enough to make you feel like the only person in the room.
Then, after a sip of espresso, he set his cup down.
“I have a favor to ask. A small deception, for a good cause.”
I tilted my head. “Okay…”
“It’s my son Caine’s birthday. He lives here. I’m taking him to dinner. I’d like you to join us.”
My stomach flipped. Caine?
Raziel had a brother?
“He never… Raziel doesn’t talk about him,” I said carefully.
“I know.” Raffaele’s smile faltered. “That’s exactly why I’m asking. Raziel’s view of our family is… singular. Forged in pain. I want you to meet Caine before you inherit his version of us. Will you come? Don’t tell him. Let an old man have this.”
He paused, then added with a sly smile, “Serena picked out dresses for you at the boutique down the street if you agree.”
It felt like walking a tightrope in heels… if I actually went, would I be betraying Raziel?
I almost said no, but his eyes were pleading. And I was too curious to say no.
“Okay,” I said.
The dinner was at an upscale steakhouse. Caine was already there. He looked like Raziel—just less haunted, but with the same eyes. Sharp jaw. Same gaze, just… tired instead of cold.
“So you’re the girl who finally thawed him out,” he said, shaking my hand. His tone wasn’t unkind—just resigned. “Teach me.”
I laughed, thinking about the night of Miyori’s wedding reception when I thought the same thing.
“It’s not easy.”
“That I know,” he replied. “So let’s cut to the chase. What do I have to buy you to convince my little brother to be nice to me again?”
“Mmm… maybe a beach house. Maybe just a blood oath to die and kill for me and my sister,” I joked.
Caine chuckled, lips twitching like he hadn’t expected that. “So your gifts should be expensive or dangerous. Good to know your love language, sister-in-law.”
I chuckled and took my seat. He was a lot more easygoing than Raziel. It was a shame they didn’t have a better bond.
Dinner was surprisingly normal. Raffaele carried the conversation—Italy, old stories, my designs. Caine barely touched his wine, didn’t check his phone once. No friends dropped by the table. Just us.
When dessert arrived, Raffaele grew quiet. He swirled the wine in his glass like it held answers.
“Raziel’s mother,” he said softly. “Bella. Her name was Bella.”
He said her name like a prayer.
“She was sick for a long time. Longer than Raziel knew. I watched the light leave her, day by day. For two years.”
He looked up—first at Caine, then at me.
“I was weak. Grief hollowed me. The helplessness... it was monstrous.”
