“I can lend you mine.”
I look up in shock, but before I can stop him, he’s already shrugging it off. The heat in my cheeks deepens when his shirt rides up his stomach to reveal the hard ridges of his abs and a firm V-line that disappears into his jeans, and then…my heart stops.
A tattoo.
I see it for about a second or two before the sweater comes off and he pulls his shirt back down in place, but there is no mistaking the tattoo I just spotted over his ribs. It’s a geometric sigil—interlocking circles and lines forming a sacred pattern I know by heart. The sigil for the archangel Raziel. I know the tattoo so well because it's my screensaver. It serves as a reminder of the man I have fallen in love with. Christ, what are the chances that Lorenzo Rossi would have the same one?
Could this be… no way.
No freaking way.
When Lorenzo hands me the sweater, I lift my head and look up at that handsome face, my heart racing the longer I look at him. This time, it’s in a new light. Still, a part of me doesn’t believe it. All this could be a mere coincidence, but it’s unlikely. Raziel isn’t even the most popular angel.
“Fiona,” he says, a single dark brow going up. “Are you okay?”
I grab the sweater from his hand and turn away from him, heart pumping so hard in my chest it’s almost painful. I replay everything I know about Raziel, comparing it with Lorenzo. Both are in tech and have some kind of connection with Archangel Raziel. Total coincidence. But those are not the onlycoincidences. What are the chances that the two would be in their thirties and both live in New York City?
No…this is just a coincidence. It’s probably why I felt attracted to Lorenzo. He’s too similar to Raziel, and this is just wishful thinking. Hoping to attach a face and a body to the man I’ve spent three years falling for.
I shrug on the sweater and turn toward Lorenzo, intent on thanking him and casually bringing up the tattoo. But the second my eyes lock with his, I forget how to speak.
“It suits you,” he says, those dark eyes taking me in, and when he turns away to get back to cleaning, I stand frozen, staring at him. Wondering what I'm going to do if this man actually turns out to be Raziel.
There’s only one way to find out for sure.
Discreetly, I reach for my phone, and for the first time in forever, I'm nervous when I open the chat box and see Raziel's name. I'm nervous as I start typing a reply to his last text, and my palms are sweaty when I send it.
I jump in fright when Lorenzo's phone vibrates in his pocket. Eyes wide, I watch the man wipe his hands with a towel before reaching for his phone. He smiles as he stares at the screen, and I watch as he starts typing, which snaps me out of my stupor. I quickly shut down my phone before he can hit send.
It is him.
Raziel.
Lorenzo Rossi is Raziel.
My knees buckle, and I drop to a crouch on the floor. It makes sense. Suddenly, the little things I picked up about Lorenzo during the party click into place. Raziel rarely spoke of his personal life, but sometimes, in the dark of the night withthe hum of the computer as his background, he opened up about losing his mother in his teen years. He told me about his younger sister, whom he adores, and his older brothers he considers his best friends. And I told him about my older brothers and how I wished I had a sister too. Raziel would joke about sharing his sister with me if I needed one. But I never quite thought too deeply about those things.
Maybe if I had, I would have seen it sooner.
Lorenzo Rossi—with his three older brothers and younger sister. How they lost their mother twenty years ago, with their father remarrying only recently. It makes sense. The family, the tech skills, and the…way he spoke. The cadence. The speech patterns. I didn’t hear it at first, but now, it’s all I can hear.
“Fiona?”
I glance up at the man I love. At the stranger. At my best friend.
And I realize that I can’t tell him. I’m not ready for him to find out just yet that I am the girl he’s been chatting with all this time. What if I disappoint him? Like me, I imagine he already has an image in his head of what Var looks like, but what if I don’t meet those standards?
“S-sorry,” I stammer, getting back on my feet. “I…um, thank you for the sweater. I’ll just get back to work here.”
He offers me a smile, a charming one that makes my heart trip. “There’s not much left to do in here. Why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll finish up here?”
I nod, walking to the stool by the counter and watching him work, sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal yet another string of tattoos. He’s tall, too, so freaking tall and handsome. I wanted to find out what secret the golden retriever of the Rossifamily was hiding, and now I know. Granted, I didn't have to use any of my skills to do that—not that I didn't try.
A hacker.
Lorenzo Rossi is a hacker. And I’m in love with him.
***
