Page 24 of Sweet Venom

My foolish heart beat wildly in my chest.

And just like that, I had found myself in this devil’s lair—apparently the CEO of my publishing house. The person who had my dreams in his hands.

Shit.

Chapter

Seven

LITTLE FOX

Azariel

“You don’t know it yet but your heart always belonged to me.” — A

Leaning back in the absurdly expensive red office chair, the kind that had cost more than most of my employees’ monthly rent, I had one hand resting lazily on the armrest while the other held my phone in place. The sleek black desk in front of me was spotless, save for a single glass of vodka, untouched.

My secretary had brought it a while ago, and I had yet to taste it.

“Hellooooooo,” sounded from my phone, and I sighed, thinking that maybe now was a good time to down the glass of alcohol.

On the screen of my phone, Raiza’s face filled the frame, her jet-black hair styled to perfection and that mischievous smile she wore like a crown, as if daring anyone to deny her beauty. Mybaby sister had just turned 21, and she was effortlessly stunning, and a spoiled brat in every sense of the word. She wielded her charm like a weapon when it came to me and Dad. Mom was the only one who was immune—she and Raiza were too alike, both with an arrogance that was impossible to ignore. None of us had a humble bone in our bodies, though.

“Aza,” she purred, her tone sweet but laced with the kind of menace that made me inwardly groan. “You’re not even listening to me, are you?”

“I’m listening,” I replied dryly, though my bored expression clearly said, I’d rather be doing anything else. But the truth was, I always listened to whatever nonsense she had to say. There was never a dull moment with Raiza, and even if she suddenly became the most boring person alive, I’d still have listened to her. I wasn’t proud of it, but the little hellion had had my soul wrapped around her tiny finger since the day she made her dramatic entrance into the world. Honestly, she was like Mom and the blue-haired sin all rolled up into one—the three of them had taken my breath away the moment I first laid eyes on them. They still did to that day. Mom soothed the pain. Raiza made everything less dull. And my little fox added color to my black.

Raiza narrowed her honey-brown eyes, leaning closer to the camera. “You’re impossible sometimes. You know that, right?”

So, I had been told.

“And yet, here you are,” I countered, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth.

The brat huffed, crossing her arms over her designer black sweater as if she were preparing to lecture me. “You’re lucky I love you so much, big brother. Otherwise, I wouldn’t put up with this cold-hearted grumpy routine.”

Cold-hearted grumpy routine? That was something Aunt Mila or our cousin Ella would have said. Unfeeling bastard or cruel son of a bitch? Now that was more my sister’s style.

I snorted, my smirk growing. “And you’re lucky I let you get away with being an insufferable brat.”

Her pretty grin turned wicked, and she tilted her head, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Please. You’d let me get away with murder—and help me decompose the body. Don’t act tough, Aza. We both know I’ve got you wrapped around my little finger.” She lifted her tiny pinky, adorned with a gold ring—a gift from Dad last Christmas, given to all of us.

I didn’t respond immediately, just leaned back further in the chair, the light catching the tattoos on my forearm and fingers. Raiza wasn’t wrong, but I’d be damned if I let her see that she had won that absurd argument.

Instead, I finally took a slow sip of my vodka and muttered, “What do you want, Raiza?”

The last time she had called, she had spent three solid hours ranting—excuse me, bitching—because, and I quote, “Dad is being so judgmental and unreasonable. He burnt all my clothes.” Three hours. I still had a headache from it, and I was pretty sure I had lost a year of my life somewhere around hour two. In Dad’s defense, Raiza had a talent for pushing his buttons when she was bored, and nothing did the trick quite like boys and way too revealing clothes. Dad had been on the verge of a heart attack since Raiza entered puberty, and even then that she was a grown woman, he still treated her like his little princess. We all did. Hell, I was the one who had given Dad the idea of burning all her clothes.

My sister leaned back in her black love seat, throwing one arm over the cushion like she was auditioning for the lead role in some trashy reality show society seemed to adore. With an exaggerated sigh, she said, “Aunt Mila keeps sending me romance books and trying to set me up. She knows I can’t stand that parasite, some call love! I’m starting to think she’s doing it just to mess with me. She even brought that golden retriever ofhers, you know, the bodyguard slash undercover hitman. And besides, he’s a single dad with a brat.” She said with a frown, but there was a flicker in her eyes that made me wonder if she was telling herself more than she was willing to admit.

I rolled my eyes, already regretting picking up the call. “Aunt Mila is the best out of all of us,” I said flatly. “You know damn well everything she does comes from a place of love, so suck it up.”

Raiza narrowed her eyes at the screen, ready to fire back, but I had had enough of her theatrics, so I cut her off.

“And before you start whining, let me remind you—Aunt Mila is the sweetest person in our family. I’d do anything for you, Rai, but hurting Aunt Mila’s feelings?” I shook my head, my voice firm. “Not happening. Ever. So, take the damn books with a smile.”

Raiza groaned, smacking her lips in frustration. “Oh, shut it. I would never hurt aunty.” My sister whispered, her voice softening as a rare vulnerability slipped through, but just as quickly, she recovered, and the fire returned. “Even though she’s like a walking Hallmark movie.”

That she was.

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