Page 104 of Rage
I can’t help but laugh. “You planned that.”
“A little.”
I shake my head. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
Azriel grins. “That’s probably true, but you might come to like me more.”
“What makes you so sure?”
He immediately lifts both hands. “I’m kidding.” The smile slips from his face. “I promise this isn’t some elaborate game.” His voice grows quieter. “You’ve had a rough few weeks finding out about everything. I figured maybe you deserve one normal evening.”
“Just food.”
“Just food,” he agrees.
“When?”
“Tonight.”
I hesitate. Saint is gone, and what's surprising is that no one seems worried. Maybe I shouldn’t be either. Maybe whatever he’s doing has nothing to do with me. I hate how much that thought disappoints me.
Azriel waits patiently. After a few more seconds of me contemplating if this is a good idea, I agree. “Okay.”
He gives me a genuine smile. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
As he starts walking away, he stops and turns back. “Oh...”
“What?”
“Don’t tell Saint.”
I blink. “Why?”
He laughs. “Because he’ll probably want to kick my ass.” Then he disappears into the crowd before I can decide whether he was joking.
**
As promised, Azriel picks me up at seven. I didn’t know what to wear, so I played it safe with a simple long-sleeve black dress, tights, and black heels. Azriel’s wearing a light-colored sweater and designer denim.
The drive out of Kenyan is quiet. Azriel doesn’t seem like the kind of person who feels the need to fill every silence.
He lets the music play softly between us. “Two Weeks” by FKA twigs. His car is just as flashy as the Saints’s, but Azriel’s is not as loud.
The city slowly replaces the campus. Brick buildings give way to glass, and traffic grows heavier as we make our way pass the different storefronts and restaurants.
Finally, Azriel turns beneath a valet awning in front of a narrow building tucked between two high-rises. There is no massive sign, which I have learned is the type of place that doesn’t need to advertise
There are no flashing neon lights. Just polished black doors beneath warm lanterns.
A valet immediately walks toward the Range Rover. “Good evening, Mr. Vikiar.”
Azriel tosses him the keys. “Thanks, Ben.”
The man smiles at me. “Good evening, miss.”
Inside, an elevator waits with no buttons. Azriel places his thumb against a scanner, and the doors open.
“Fingerprint?”
