Page 116 of Devil's Azalea

She sounds so confident that a little alarm bell goes off in my head. “And how exactly do you know that? The first attack was six against two, Stacey. And yesterday, I almost got shot. I stood no chance at all!” My voice rises with each word and I inhale deeply, trying to pull myself together.

The bedroom door opens, and Rafael pokes his head in, eyes narrowed in concern. I wave him off. He hesitates, studying me, but thankfully leaves, shutting the door again.

“Where are you right now, Emily? With Rafael? Can you come to Virginia? We need to talk.”

“Yes, we absolutely do need to talk. You need to tell me exactly what happened ten years ago, every single detail, and why you told me Rafael killed my dad when he didn't.”

She pauses for some moments, and when she speaks again, she sounds hurt. “So you’re going to believe him over me? You’ve been with him again for, what, a week? And you trust him already?”

“I do trust him. I trust him with my life. He’s been bluntly honest with me from the start. Why would he lie about that?”

“I don’t know, maybe because he wants you to stop hating him!” She sounds agitated now. “There’s no point talking to you when you’re like this. He’s obviously got you brainwashed—making you quit a career you worked so hard for and have been building for over a decade. This is insanity, Emily. Call me when you’re ready to wake up.”

“You want to know why I quit my job?” I snap, my angerflaring hot. “Because the people who beat me the fuck up and almost killed me were FBI agents. Mycolleagues!”

She inhales sharply, but I continue before she can interrupt.

“What sort of environment would that be if I continued working there? Would I begin to fear for my life and suspect my colleagues and superiors? That’stoxic.” I spit the word.

“How do you know they were agents? Did Rafael tell you that? He?—”

I scoff. “You really need to get over this hatred you have for Rafael and take the blinders off your eyes. He’s not lying to me.” I’m shaking as I draw in a ragged breath. “Don’t call me again unless you’re ready to actuallylistento me.”

And then I hang up.

40

EMILIA

Rafael’s eyes find mine the second I step into the living area. The concern in his gaze is obvious, but he doesn’t mention my call. Instead, he nods towards the small dining area in the corner of the room. “Breakfast is ready.”

My stomach chooses that moment to growl audibly, and a sudden, almost painful hunger wells up, reminding me I haven’t eaten since… God, when did I last eat? Time feels fluid when you’re married to a man who can make you forget your own name with just his mouth…

Rafael returns his attention to his laptop as I make my way to the dining area. I tighten the belt on my robe and sit down, stealing quick glances at him, unsure how to navigate myself around him this morning.

How is this whole marriage thing going to work, anyway?

I lift the cover from the plate, and my mouth waters instantly. Stacks of golden waffles generously drowned in syrup—exactly how I love them—with a small bowl of honey on the side. Scrambled eggs that look impossibly fluffy, crispy bacon strips, and fresh berries complete the spread. He remembers everything.

I pick up my fork and knife and dig in with genuine enthusiasm. For a while, the only sounds filling the space are the gentle scrape of my cutlery and the steady tap-tap-tap from Rafael’s laptop. When I finish every last bite, I get up from the chair and start to clear the table.

“Leave it. Room service will take care of it,” Rafael says, eyes still on his screen. “We’re heading out soon anyway. Something came up at work that I have to deal with.”

Something came up at work? My brain immediately spirals through a catalog of criminal activities that word could cover.

He must know where my mind goes because he chuckles. “One of the sous chefs at one of my restaurants slipped and got a vat of boiling oil all over himself. I want to go check on him at the hospital.”

I nod, relief easing my shoulders, even as I feel sorry for the poor sous chef. At least Rafael isn’t about to go off and do something illegal.

Not that I’m delusional. I know what Rafael does. Sooner or later, he’s going to have to deal with the criminal side of his empire, and I’ll have to decide what that means for us. For me. After spending years hunting people like him, I’m honestly not sure how to feel about it anymore.

Is this numbness I’m experiencing normal?

Maybe the world isn’t as black and white as I’ve always believed. Hell, I mean, I’ve done a few unsavory things myself over the years in the name of catching criminals. The lines get blurry when you’re in the thick of it.

“I should go get dressed,” I say, already moving towards the bedroom.

Rafael drops me at the penthouse and disappears withinminutes, but not before pressing a brand-new laptop into my hands.