Page 62 of Devil’s Azalea (Nightshades #3)

EMILIA

The horrible smell of disinfectant hits me first, making me scrunch my nose in disgust. Seriously, who the hell is going overboard with the cleaning chemicals? Then the steady beeping sounds register, and the distant murmur of voices.

I blink my eyes open and immediately regret it.

White ceiling. Blinding lights. Everything screams hospital, and suddenly the pieces start clicking back together in my memory.

Rafael’s voice, desperate and raw, telling me he loved me.

The way he begged me to stay with him—not just asked, but actually begged with this wild urgency I’d never heard from him before.

My toes curl just thinking about it. God, I need to sit up, but the second I try, this vicious pain tears through my side and I can’t stop the groan that escapes.

The hushed voices stop dead. Footsteps—light, quick ones—rush towards me. And then Rafael’s beloved face appears above me, blocking out those brutal lights, and I swear my heart does this weird little flip.

He looks like he’s been through hell and dragged himself back.

His usually perfect hair is a disaster, sticking up at odd angles like he’s been running his fingers through it obsessively.

His eyes—those silver eyes that usually look like polished steel—are bloodshot, the whites so red they make the silver almost ethereal.

This is not the Rafael I know. The man who’s always immaculate, always in control, always perfectly put together. His expensive suit is wrinkled beyond salvation, the top buttons of his shirt undone like he couldn’t be bothered with appearances.

When our eyes meet, his widen like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. “You’re awake.” The words come out as a whisper, like he’s afraid speaking too loud might make me disappear. Then his face transforms into this massive smile that makes my chest tight.

I try to speak, but my mouth moves without a sound coming out. What the hell?

His warm hand covers mine, and he lifts our joined hands to his face as if he’s been starving for my touch. The scrape of his stubble against my palm sends shivers up my arm, and my hand instinctively curves against his jaw. His eyes absolutely light up when I do that.

And the heart monitor next to me loses its damn mind.

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

Traitor machine , I think, but Rafael’s grip on my hand tightens as he watches me with this deep intensity that makes me feel like I’m the only thing in his universe. I try again to speak. “Ra–Rafael.”

He spins around and barks at someone to get the doctor before turning back to me. “Hello, sleeping beauty.”

“You–you look like hell.”

He chuckles, and he presses my hand harder against his jaw. “Thank you.” His eyes glisten— Rafael’s eyes are glistening . “I haven’t left this hospital room in four days, so forgive me for not looking like a bouquet of roses.” The lightness in his voice doesn’t match the rawness in his eyes .

Four days? I’ve been out for that long? “What happened?”

“The bullet missed your vital organs, but you lost a lot of blood… way too much blood.” His tone turns sharp, almost accusatory. “You went into shock, and even after the surgery was successful, you just refused to wake up.”

Surgery? I glance down at myself, suddenly aware of the tubes and wires connecting me to various machines.

The door opens behind Rafael, and he reluctantly steps back, dropping my hand. The loss of his warmth is immediate and painful, and I want to grab him back, to keep him close. “They need to check you.”

Three doctors walk in, and they look like they’ve been through their own personal hell. Rumpled clothes, exhausted eyes, the kind of weariness that comes from dealing with difficult patients—or in this case, difficult patient’s husbands.

They give Rafael a wide berth, but I don’t miss the wary glances they keep tossing his way as they approach my bed. Yeah, he’s definitely been making their lives miserable. The thought sends a wave of fierce affection through me. My protective, impossible man .

The doctors poke and prod and make concerned doctor noises while I resist the urge to tell them to hurry the hell up so I can have Rafael back.

“Her vitals are good. She might slip into a deep sleep again, but otherwise she seems to be on the right track for recovery,” one of the doctors says.

The second doctor gives me a small smile. “You’re a very lucky woman, Mrs. Moretti. If that bullet had hit you just a little more to the left, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

Never to see Rafael again? I swallow hard, the possibility scaring the hell out of me. They fuss over me for a few more minutes—probably putting on a show for Rafael’s benefit—then finally escape .

Once we’re alone again, Rafael steps closer, lowering himself gingerly onto the edge of my bed.

I smile at him, unable to help myself. “Have you been terrorizing my doctors while I was unconscious?”

“Perhaps,” he answers softly with a smile of his own, then leans down to press kisses on my cheek, my temple, my nose. When his lips brush against my lashes, my eyes flutter closed. “You gave me quite the scare, amorina . Shaved a decade off my life.”

His declaration of love rings in my head as I open my eyes again. “I love you.”

“And I love you, more than I can ever describe with words. But I’ll show you every chance I get.” He presses this sweet, chaste kiss to my lips.

“Katie?” The memory of her getting shot hits me suddenly.

“She’s fine—I think.”

My heart stutters. “You think ?”

Rafael sighs, and for the first time, he looks genuinely tired.

“I’ve had my hands completely full with you.

I thought my heart had been ripped straight out of my chest, and I was losing my mind.

There was this unbearable pressure in my nose and chest and lungs, and water actually even pooled in my eyes and just…

oozed out. I had zero control over it.” He shakes his head like he’s still amazed by his own humanity.

I stare at him, my mouth probably hanging open like an idiot. “You mean you— cried ?”

“That has never happened to me before. Not even when I was still under my father’s thumb. I don’t want it to ever happen again.” He shudders, like the memory physically hurts him. “So you need to stay safe.”

I just keep staring, completely speechless. He cried. Because of me. The great Rafael Moretti, the man who faces down enemies without blinking, who controls everything and everyone around him with ruthless efficiency—he cried for me .

“Anyways, to answer your question.” He changes the subject smoothly, clearly uncomfortable with this vulnerability. “Stacey and the others were arrested. Katie was declared wanted and…” He trails off.

“And what? Was she arrested? Did she get hurt?”

“She was hurt during the shootout and brought to this hospital just minutes after you were. She woke up after a few hours and was already doing well. The doctors were amazed at how quickly she bounced back. But two days ago, she disappeared.”

Disappeared? I gape at him. “What? What do you mean she disappeared? Did she get arrested? Kidnapped?” A person can’t just disappear from a hospital filled with doctors and patients and security. Was nobody protecting her ward?

“When her nurse came to check on her, Katie attacked the woman, asked about your condition, then took her clothes. She tied the nurse to her bed and walked out of the hospital pretending to be staff. So no, she wasn’t taken against her will or arrested. She left on her own.”

She left on her own. Why? Now that I think about it, I realize I don’t actually know much about the woman who’s been my close friend for years. I didn’t even know she had a sister that Stacey was using against her until a few days ago. What sort of horrible friend have I been?

What if someone else is threatening her? If there’s one thing I do know about Katie, it’s that she cares deeply, and she wouldn’t have left without making sure I was okay first. If she did leave—something serious must have happened.

Worry niggles at the back of my head. “We need to find her, Rafael.”

“I thought you might say that, and already have my men searching for her. Romero and the others are on her trail as well as we speak. We’ll find her. I promise.”

But something heavy lodges in my gut. Katie is a very resourceful and smart woman. She was one of the agency’s best agents for a reason. If she doesn’t want to be found, she won’t be.

My shoulders tense with worry, but then the door flies open and my family walks in. Romero, Michael and Gianna, Maximo and Elira. I sink back into the bed, a warm fuzzy feeling washing over me when I see they’re all holding some type of gift for me.

“You really are awake,” Maximo says dryly as he steps in with a bouquet of flowers.

“You sound disappointed about that,” I tease, and he rolls his eyes.

“Glad to see you still have your wits about you at least. What the hell were you thinking, exposing yourself to danger like that? You think you have nine lives or something.”

“Maximo,” Elira warns, giving me a sympathetic smile, but I just chuckle, waving away her concern. It feels good to be scolded by family again.

They crowd around my bed, making sure I’m really okay. Someone mentions my tattoo, and I realize this is their first time seeing it up close. Lifting my arm, I show it off proudly.

They stay for hours, talking and laughing until my lids start drooping despite my best efforts to stay awake.

“Okay, that’s it. Everyone out.” Rafael’s authoritative voice cuts through the chatter. “She needs to rest, and she can’t do that while you buffoons are here.”

“Did you know Rafael cried when you were wheeled into surgery?” Michael comments mildly, making absolutely no move to leave my ward.

“Wept like a baby,” Romero chuckles.

I laugh as I look at my husband, who looks ready to commit murder. “He did mention something about water oozing out of his eyes. ”

“Out. Now,” he growls, physically pushing Romero towards the door.

“Bring the girls next time!” I call out to Gianna, who gives me a grin and a nod.

When they’re finally gone, Rafael crosses his arms and smiles at me. “Now, where were we?”

He looks so strong and composed, even though he still physically looks like hell. I can’t even imagine him crying. My heart clenches thinking about how hurt he must have been for that to happen.

“I’m sorry I made you cry, but it’s only fair. Do you know how many times I’ve cried because of you?”

“Neither of us is going to have any reason to cry again if I have anything to say about it,” he vows. “And I do.”

I chuckle sleepily. “Rafael?” I ask around a yawn. “Go home and change. You really do look like hell. Maybe take a nap while you’re at it.”

“I won’t take it personally, even though this is the second time you’ve said that,” he grumbles. “I’ll have Enzo bring me clean clothes. I can change here.”

He doesn’t want to leave me . My insides get all warm and fuzzy as my eyes slide shut, heavy and content. Truth is… I don’t want him to leave either.