Even now, as I watch him turn his attention from his brothers to his phone, I can't help but wonder what else about the man will surprise me. His phone or computer must hold the secrets that none of these people know about him. Him being into tech means he probably protects his devices, but I've always loved a challenge.
“Maybe you should go talk to him,” Elena says, nudging me again because, of course, that's what normal people do. They talk and ask questions instead of hacking into other people’s devices. “I think you two would get along. To be fair, Lorenzo gets along with everyone.”
I hum, watching the man for a moment longer before my phone vibrates on the table, pulling my focus away. I glance down at it, and my heart leaps to my throat, my lips stretching into a wide grin when I see the name flashing on the screen.
Raziel.
If Lorenzo Rossi gives me butterflies, it’s nothing compared to the swarm of buzzing bees my online hacker friend spurs in my stomach. A man the stars aligned for me to meet in an encrypted messaging site used by hackers. Unlike the others, he didn’t dismiss me once he found out that I was a girl. His name intrigued me the first time I came across it. Raziel, the archangel who was the gatekeeper of information and secrets. Even more interesting was the fact that he knew my hacker name, Var, and understood what it stood for—a Norse goddess of oaths and seeking truth.
For three years, I’ve chatted with this stranger and shared parts of me that no one else knows. I thought ours was a friendship that would fade with time, but it never has. I’ve metsomeone who sees and understands me in ways my family never has. There’s a safety in anonymity—a freedom to be completely honest without fear of judgment. Maybe that’s why neither of us has ever suggested meeting. What if seeing each other shatters the connection we’ve built? What if reality can’t compete with the version of him, I’ve created in my mind?
We started voice chatting a few months ago, though we both run our calls through an encrypted app with light voice modulation—just enough to obscure the details while keeping conversation natural. It’s not that we don’t trust each other. It’s that trust, in our world, is built in layers.
Heck, we even worked together on some white hat hacking jobs, and it was a thing of beauty witnessing his brilliant mind at play.
Is it a wonder that I’ve fallen in love with this faceless stranger?
At night, I lie in bed dreaming of what he looks like. Smells like. Christ, anyone would call me crazy if they found out I’m in love with a virtual person, but that’s because they haven’t interacted with Raziel or seen the diamond that is his mind.
My heart races as I open his message, biting into my lower lip as my eyes move over the words several times. He wants to work together on a project, so I quickly type back a message. Since I became the primary tech expert of my family's private security firm, I haven't had time to indulge in much reckless play. But it hasn’t stopped me from daydreaming about working with him side by side—though I’m not bold enough to ask to meet up. Heck, the thought of asking his name and scaring him off is the stuff of nightmares.
The only thing I have to go by is his age. And I suspect even that much was said by accident. Perhaps an eleven-year age gap would turn people away, and yet, that only adds to his appeal.
“Fiona, don't start with that phone again.” My mother's voice is a distant echo as I shoot off a text, biting my nails as I wait for Raziel’s reply. When it comes, it’s impossible to hide the joy. His messages always leave me feeling giddy. Heck, we could be talking about running a Metasploit module or discussing what he had for lunch, and my heart would race the same.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake!”
The words come before the phone is snatched from my busy fingers. My head whips up in surprise to find my mother’s sharp eyes on mine. “Mom, c’mon,” I whine, reaching for my phone, but she moves it beyond my reach. “You can’t just ban me from using my phone. I’m not a kid anymore.”
“Oh really, you could have fooled me,” she says, and I watch sorrowfully as she slides the phone into her purse. “We’re at a party, Fiona. It’s rude to have your head buried in your phone the entire time. Can’t have these people thinking my daughter is antisocial.”
I bite back the urge to say that antisocial wouldn’t be the worst thing to be in here, especially when we’re surrounded by the literal mafia. I turn to my father and brothers for support, but they all seem to have developed a sudden interest in the pastries on our table.
“Cowards,” I mutter under my breath, falling back against my seat with a sigh. It never seems to matter to my mother that I am twenty-two and not twelve.
“Don’t pout, dear, it's unattractive.”
I turn away from our table and glance at the Rossis’ table, noting for the first time that Lorenzo's seat is empty. He must have left while I was texting Raziel.
Raziel.
Just thinking of the name makes my heart race and a flush creep up my neck. And now, I can’t stop thinking about that first message he sent me.
Wanna play a game with me?
Chapter One
Two weeks later
Lorenzo
Matteo's office is flooded with chaos when I arrive. I stop outside the door and don’t immediately let myself in. I can hear my brothers' voices trying to talk over each other, and Matteo's cold voice cutting through like a sharp knife. I lean against the cool wood of the door, letting the noise wash over me. It's all familiar chaos, a kind of energy that I know intimately. I'm the one the family calls when there is a mess they can't fix with blows or cold hard cash, and this feels like one of those cases.
I close my eyes for a moment, breathing in the air that carries a mix of coffee gone stale, anger, and irritation. I can feel the tension radiating from the other side of the door, a palpable weight, but it's nothing I'm not used to.
“Where the hell is Lorenzo?”
I hear my brother, Antonio, call out. He is the underboss and second in command to Matteo. He’s also the least patient of my brothers, so I figure it’s time for my grand entrance.
