Page 58 of Devil’s Azalea (Nightshades #3)

EMILIA

Today, I’m not Agent Tomassi. I’m Mrs. Moretti, and I’m here to collect what’s mine.

Where I used to glide past the front desk without a glance, now I march straight for it with a pounding heart. The officer behind it watches me like a hawk. This is my first time seeing him here, so he must be new. My gaze flicks to the ID tag hanging from his neck as I deliver my opening line.

“Name, please,” he says in a bored tone.

“Emilia Moretti for Rafael Moretti.”

His fingers freeze over the keyboard. He looks up from his computer screen, and I watch recognition dawn in his eyes as he does a double take.

He might not know me personally, but he’s definitely heard of me.

My marriage to Rafael wasn’t exactly a quiet one.

I raise a cool brow at his obvious staring, and he goes back to typing on his computer .

“An officer will be right out to escort you to the holding cell where your husband is being detained, ma'am. When did you get the call from his lawyer?”

My heart stutters. His lawyer. Of course Rafael has a lawyer—no, a whole team of them. And apparently not a single one of those overpaid suits thought to pick up a phone and inform me that my husband got arrested?

I fish my phone from my pocket, checking just in case I missed a call. Nope, nothing.

What if he told them not to call me? The thought slams into me with the force of a sledgehammer, but I shove it down deep. No way. Absolutely not. Rafael knows I wouldn’t betray him that way. Not a second time. Not after everything we’ve gone through to reach this point.

“Mrs Moretti? Come with me.” A woman steps out from the back office. It’s Riley, one of the agents. I haven’t interacted with her, but I’ve seen her around. Her expression stays carefully blank, and I mirror that same mask as I follow her towards the elevator.

I try to shove my doubts to the back of my mind, but it’s impossible. My pulse hammers, and I barely resist the urge to tap the pointed end of my stiletto against the elevator floor.

What if he says he doesn’t want to see me?

Stop it. If Rafael didn’t want to see me, the front desk officer would have turned me away at the door. That logic helps settle my nerves, but my fingers still unconsciously twist my wedding rings around and around.

We get off on the fifth floor and walk through a long hallway leading to the holding cells. After taking a right turn, I spot them immediately—a cluster of expensive suits huddled outside one particular door, heads bent together in hushed, urgent conversation.

Riley clears her throat, and they turn towards us. One man separates from the pack, recognition flickering across his face when he sees me. He looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite place him. “Mrs. Moretti, we were just about to call you.”

That voice. Arrogant. Condescending. He’s one of Rafael’s lawyers. I remember this pompous jackass now—I had a brief altercation with him a few months ago, back when Rafael was first arrested.

God, that feels like ages ago.

“My husband was arrested almost three hours ago, and you were just about to call me?” I pitch my voice in a tone just as condescending as his. “What’s your name?”

His brows fly up. “Luis Miller.”

“Well, Luis Miller—” I look down my nose at him with the kind of withering stare that could wilt flowers, “—you’re fired. You can pack up your overpriced briefcase and get off the premises.”

While he splutters, I walk with Riley to the door that separates me from my husband. My heart stutters as I step into the holding cell. There are three men inside, but my eyes laser straight to the one facing the other two. My husband.

His dark hair remains as smooth and unruffled as his expression. Not a single wrinkle in his suit. And those chrome eyes—they settle on me with the warmth of arctic ice.

Instantly, I know my doubts weren’t just paranoia. He thinks I betrayed him. The air rushes out of my lungs, but I make sure to keep my face blank.

“Mrs. Moretti.” The two men across from my husband get to their feet as the door closes behind Riley. Even though she’s gone, I know someone is watching us from the camera in the corner of the cell.

“I just fired one of the lawyers on our team. A Luis Miller,” I tell Rafael, daring him to say I had no right to do that.

“He was still debating whether to call me three hours after you were detained.” I flick my gaze to the two other men I assume are also his lawyers, probably the bosses. “Quite distasteful. ”

They gape like fish, looking to Rafael for guidance, but my husband doesn’t utter a single syllable. Just maintains that sub-zero stare fixed on me.

“Leave us.” I wave a dismissive hand at them. They hesitate, clearly uncomfortable.

“Do as she says,” Rafael finally speaks up, and only then do they gather their folders from the table and make their exit.

The tension in this tiny room becomes suffocating the moment that door closes behind them. I’m hyper-aware of Rafael’s penetrating gaze on me while I walk over and take a seat across from him. I notice his wrists immediately—no handcuffs. At least the lawyers accomplished something useful.

“You think I’m involved in this, don’t you?”

He watches me steadily. “Are you not?”

“Answer my fucking question, Rafael,” I snap, losing a bit of my patience. I suck in a sharp breath, trying to regain control, but it’s too late. He has already seen behind the mask.

He shrugs with infuriating nonchalance. “What am I supposed to think? You vanish into thin air, and suddenly federal agents come swarming through our home. And you’ve done something similar before.”

“That was ten years ago!” I squeeze my eyes shut and drag in several more deep breaths, trying to contain the fury and hurt threatening to consume me. It doesn’t work. And I'm so fucking tired of holding back all the time. Tired of everybody doing this to me.

I slap my hands on the desk as I get to my feet.

“I explained the circumstances of what happened in the past, and I thought you understood. I’m not that foolish child anymore, Rafael. I’m a grown woman with grown woman brains and feelings. Be very careful how you handle me.”

“Emilia—”

“No.” I raise a hand, stopping him cold.

“I’m not just going to throw our marriage—throw us away.

When I promised to protect and shield you, when I vowed to be with you through thick and thin without betraying our sacred bond, I meant it.

..” I wave my left hand inches from his face, almost catching his eye with my rock, but he jerks his head back in time. “I took my vows seriously, Rafael!”

I start to leave, but something roots me to the spot.

My throat constricts as I force myself to face him one more time.

The words come out barely above a whisper, but they carry the weight of my entire soul.

“I love you. And I don’t give a damn if you believe me or not.

I’m going to get you and the others out of here and prove to you that I’m on your side this time.

That I’ll always be on your side. Not just because I’m your wife and that’s what a wife should do, but because I genuinely, truly love you, Rafael.

And because you’ve always been on my side. ”

“Emilia, I–”

“Don’t say anything until you’re out of here,” I cut him off again and bolt for the door.

Partly because I’m terrified of what might come out of his mouth—I can’t handle another blow right now.

And partly because I need my entire focus on the mission of getting them out and not divided with thoughts of him.

The lawyers are clustered together again when I emerge. I scan the group quickly—Luis is nowhere to be seen. Good. They all straighten to attention when they see me, finally recognizing that I hold some measure of power. Very good, I think savagely as I walk up to them.

“Do you have a strategy to get them out?” I ask without preamble.

They exchange a round of looks before one of the two men who was in the detaining room with Rafael steps forward.

I assume he’s their leader. “Mrs. Moretti, I assure you we’re working tirelessly to secure your husband’s freedom and have already developed a preliminary plan.

In fact, one of Mr. Lombardi’s lawyers just left here with promising news regarding his client. ”

Romero.

“Apparently, his client is just waiting for the approval of his release papers and has already sent one of his other lawyers to speak with Mr. Hart’s defense team as well. He gave us some valuable intel.”

“Tell me.” I wave an impatient hand.

“Violation of Miranda rights and insufficient evidence with no witnesses,” he says, and I can’t suppress my smile. Romero is a hotshot lawyer for a reason.

I noticed in the video I watched with Pierre that their Miranda rights weren’t read during the arrest. It’s shaky—probably not enough on its own to get them released—but when the evidence isn’t solid, it’s more than enough.

The suspects are usually let go until a witness is found.

That’s why Stacey lured me to that restaurant.

She thought she could convince me to act as a witness for the prosecution.

Too bad for her that plan exploded in her face.

“That’s exactly what I had in mind. Along with unlawful arrest, prosecutorial misconduct, and multiple violations of constitutional rights. I have video evidence to back every claim.” I extract one of the flash drives from my pants pocket and hold it up triumphantly.

The lead lawyer stares at me in awe for a moment. “Mrs. Moretti, you’re a star.”

I chuckle as I hand over the flash drive. But something draws my attention to the other side of the hallway—and my smile freezes, fading completely when I see who’s standing there watching us. Katie .

I rub a hand over my suddenly tight chest as I walk towards her. “Haven’t you already done enough? What do you want?” I snap, the rudeness covering up the dull ache she left in me.

“I’m sorry,” she blurts out. “For everything I’ve done to you when you treated me with so much sincerity, Em.

I never felt right about it, but I didn’t have much of a choice.

” She hesitates, frowning. “I’m not here to make excuses for my behavior.

I want to make things right. I have information that will be very useful to you and answer the rest of your unanswered questions. ”

Every instinct screams trap, but God, I want those answers. I want to believe that everything we had wasn’t a lie. But I scowl instead. “And how do I know this isn’t just another trap? Why would you suddenly want to help me now after stabbing me in the back all this time?”

“I–I guess you don’t.” She swallows. “Can you just trust me this one last time? I’ve always had your back, even when I was reporting to Stacey. Please , Emily.”

I glance at the lead lawyer, and he waves me off with confidence. “We’ve got this handled, Mrs. Moretti.”

I look at Katie—really look at her. The guilt is eating her alive, I can see it in every line of her body. And despite everything, part of me still wants to believe in the friendship we had.

Maybe she can give me the truth Stacey never would.

“Fine.” I take a deep breath and follow her down the hallway. “But if you’re lying to me again, Katie—if this is another game—I’ll make sure you regret it.”

She nods, tears threatening to spill. “I know. And I’ll deserve it.”

Yes. You will.