Page 44 of Devil’s Azalea (Nightshades #3)

EMILIA

What did Rafael stop himself from saying? I feel like I was on the verge of finally uncovering the goddamn mystery surrounding my father’s death, and he just… stopped. Slammed the door shut right in my face.

I try to groan in frustration, but I’m too tired to even make the sound.

I’ve been fighting off the drugging wave of sleepiness for the past few minutes. It’s honestly a miracle I was able to follow any of that conversation with Rafael. Did I even follow it properly? My thoughts feel sluggish, disconnected.

Think. What just happened?

I tried not to, but I’m pretty sure I might have agreed to something I never would have if I were in my right mind. I should have insisted on having the conversation in the morning when my brain wasn’t swimming in whatever cocktail Jamie pumped into my veins, I should have?—

My mouth stretches into a huge yawn, eyes squeezing shut involuntarily. The medication is winning this battle.

I turn to my side, careful not to move my left hand where the IV line is. What was Rafael going to say? Did he witness what actually happened to my dad? And more importantly—would I believe him if he told me the truth?

The truth. What a concept.

Back then, Stacey didn’t give me the details about how my dad died, and I figured it didn’t matter. All I cared about was who did it—Rafael. But now… I realize how wrong I was. I should have asked Stacey to tell me everything she saw.

Another yawn takes over, and suddenly I’m drowning in exhaustion.

Maybe I should…

Maybe I should… what?

I should…

I must have passed out, because when I open my eyes, sunlight filters in beneath the curtains, softening the brightness of the morning.

Someone, Rafael , has removed the IV from my vein and?—

I gasp softly, my gaze immediately drawn to a seated figure lurking in the dark corner of the room, watching me.

My heart gives a hard thud, but not from fear. I know that silhouette better than my own reflection.

“I was impressed to see how big our azalea has grown. You must have thought of me every time you watered and nurtured it.”

I don’t need to see Rafael to hear the smirk in his voice. I frown, not quite catching his meaning through the haze of sleep and medication. Moving carefully, I try to sit up, expecting the same excruciating pain from last night. Instead, there’s only a dull twinge of discomfort.

What kind of sorcery did Jamie pump into my veins?

As I shift position, my hand snags the sheet, and I feel an unfamiliar weight on my finger. I push the dark-colored fabric away and?—

Oh my God .

My gasp catches in my throat as I stare at the rock on my ring finger.

“What is this?” The words barely make it past my lips, which suddenly feel numb. I didn’t explicitly say yes to his proposal… did I ?

He doesn’t answer, and I can’t tear my gaze away from my finger to glare at him. I recognize the ring instantly. It isn’t my first time seeing it. Not my second. Not even my tenth. I’ve stared at this engagement ring countless times over the past decade, so of course I recognize it.

The moment he gave me this ring at the peak restaurant ten years ago marked the beginning of our relationship. And although I fell in love with it at first sight, although I would choose it over and over again if given a choice, I’ve never once tried it on.

I don’t know how I had that kind of self-control.

Maybe at first, it was because I was too angry at his perceived murder of my father. And then later, when I finally started to soften towards him, I knew that putting it on would be crossing a line I could never uncross.

But now…

I’m mesmerized as I slowly turn my wrist this way and that, watching how the rose gold band pops against my pale skin. The star-shaped design, the pink diamond centerpiece, the tiny diamonds scattered around it—it’s perfect .

“If you don’t like it—” Rafael’s voice is so startingly close I jerk my gaze up, heart tripping to see him right in front of me. Fuck, he always moves so quietly. “—we can get you something else.”

He’s talking about my ring. Get me something else?

Instinctively, my fingers curl into my palm.

Over my dead body. I’m never taking this off again.

The fact that he had to go all the way to my apartment, navigate through my personal space, find the hidden compartment in my fake book just to retrieve the ring—and then slipped it onto my finger when I was asleep?

The audacity. The romance. The absolute bastard.

I never technically said yes to his proposal, but they’ll have to pry this ring off my cold, dead hands. Besides, I was eventually going to say yes anyway.

My heart stutters when I remember my conversation with Maximo yesterday, the realizations I’d come to before the attack in the mall’s lot. There’s no going back to the bureau for me. It’s time I start putting myself first for once in my life.

“You went to my apartment. My room.” I keep my voice steady, curious rather than accusatory. “How did you find the ring?”

“You forget that I know you well,” he says simply. “We might have been separated for a decade, but you and I… we’re birds of the same feather.”

The words please me more than they should, sending warmth curling through my chest down to my toes. He steps even closer, forcing me to tilt my head back so I can keep looking into his eyes, and something shifts in my hair. As I lift my hand, I already know what I’ll find—and I’m not disappointed.

It’s a crown. The crown. “Rafael…” I start as I pull it free to examine the dazzling diamond crown.

He clicks his tongue. “I was rather enjoying watching you wear that.” Before I can protest, he takes it out of my hand and places it back on my head, his brow furrowing slightly as he adjusts the fit.

“We’re getting married in three days. You need to start getting used to the ring and the crown. You’re going to be my queen.”

“Three days!” My heart doesn’t just pound—it explodes in my chest. I swallow compulsively, trying to process what he just said.

That’s… that’s incredibly fast. I’m still grappling with the fa ct that we’re getting married at all. Why does the wedding have to happen so quickly?

Rafael raises a brow. “You have a problem with that timeline?”

My hands flutter in my lap, and I try not to get distracted by the way the light catches my ring. “That’s too fast. There’s really no reason to rush, is there?”

Is there? Panic starts to creep in around the edges of my consciousness. I still have to go into the office to officially drop my resignation letter. Face my colleagues. Explain why I’m throwing away everything I’ve worked for…

My heart sinks to my stomach like lead, and second thoughts crowd my brain. What the hell am I thinking? What the hell am I doing? Marrying Rafael? Trading the career I’ve busted my ass for all my life, just like that?

“Oh? How long did you think this engagement would last? Three months? Six?”

“That’s not an unreasonable amount of time,” I object, but even I can hear how weak it sounds.

How the hell did we even get to this point?

Just a month ago, we were still enemies!

Nemesis… or whatever the hell we were. I don’t know anymore…

But I literally led a team of agents into his club, for crying out loud.

“We’re not like the typical couple. You need protection. I’m not going to let you die the way Tomassi did. That organization you work for—” He stops abruptly, shaking his head. “Anyways, I’m glad you decided to leave on your own.”

My heart sinks even further. He’s right. Someone is after my life, and we still don’t know who.

What would it be—your life or your career?

When framed that way, the choice becomes clearer, quieting the worst of my doubts. But my heart still feels heavy. This isn’t how I imagined my life would go.

But then a darker thought creeps in. What if he’s lying? What if yesterday’s attack was orchestrated? What if he manipulated this entire situation just to get me to marry him? Is he that obsessed with me?

I narrow my eyes at him. No . Rafael is a manipulative bastard, sure, but I can’t deny one fundamental truth—he would never truly hurt me. Not physically. If he’d orchestrated that attack, those men wouldn’t have laid a single finger on me at all. Which reminds me…

“What happened to my attackers?”

His eyes darken with satisfaction, and his smile turns predatory. “Let’s just say that they met their waterloo.”

Waterloo? Could he be any more vague? I refuse to be deterred. “Were they really FBI agents? Did you find out who sent them?”

“When I was at your apartment, I took the opportunity to have some professional packers collect your things. Don’t worry—I supervised the entire process personally. Made sure nothing went missing.”

“What?! Rafael .” I inhale sharply, fighting to rein in my temper. That son of a—he’s trying to piss me off on purpose to distract me. He knows exactly what buttons to push, most likely knows how much I hate people pawing through my things.

I’m annoyed as hell, but I force myself to stay focused. Keeping my glare trained on him, I slowly breathe in and out. If I let him get away again with dodging this question, I might never find out what happened. Just like with my father’s death.

It takes the will of a saint to push past my anger over violated privacy, but somehow I manage. I take another deep inhale. “What. Did. You. Find. Out. About. My. Attackers?”

He does a double take, like he’s genuinely surprised I saw through his deflection.

Then his lips curl up the slightest bit, and I catch a glint of what looks like pride in his chrome eyes.

“I couldn’t find any identification on them,” he says finally.

“And their mouths remained stubbornly shut throughout their… ordeal . However, I did confirm they were highly trained and possessed government-issued weapons.”

My blood runs cold. “So they were federal agents.”

He shrugs. “They’re dead now, and whoever sent them probably knows it already, and knows not to fuck with you again or face my wrath. That's all that matters.”

Dead. Part of me should be horrified. The other part—the part that remembers the fear, the pain, the helplessness—feels a savage satisfaction.

My heart softens slightly, lessening some of my anger about the packing situation. “You still shouldn’t have packed my things without asking,” I can’t resist saying.

“I’m sorry, amorina, but you’re not leaving this house again, and I figured you’d be more comfortable with your things around you. I even brought our first child with me.”

Our first child. I narrow my eyes on him but don’t bother arguing. What would be the point? He did get me the darned azalea plant, and I did nurture it like it was our baby—just like he wrote in that note when he first gave it to me.

He adjusts his cufflinks, and for the first time, it sinks in that he’s fully dressed in an expensive suit.

“An important meeting came up after the announcement of our engagement last night, so I have to go. Some people will come to help you choose your wedding dress and everything else you might need for the big day.”

It was announced already? My stomach gurgles nervously. “Rafael.” I wait until he meets my gaze before saying, “I’d like to see Katie.”

The change in his expression is immediate and dramatic. His eyes darken ominously, his lips pressing into a thin line. I know his answer before he even utters it.

“No. You’re not leaving this house until after our wedding—for your own safety. And that’s final.”