Page 23 of Devil's Azalea

But nothing stays locked when Emilia wants in. She’s an agent, after all.

I climb the stairs swiftly, my shoes barely making a sound against the concrete. The security camera in the corner doesn’t concern me—Emilia would have handled that detail already. She’s thorough, my little rogue.

Just before reaching the landing, I pause to peek up and make sure the coast is clear. The stairwell opens up into a small nook, so I press my back against the wall and ease forward just enough to see.

There she is—crouched in front of a door with some kind of electronic device pressed against the lock, her fingers flying over what looks like a keypad. There’s a soft beep, and the doorclicks open. Then she pockets the device before slipping inside.

I chuckle under my breath. Quick and efficient. She’s a goddamn weapon.

I tread quietly to the door and study the lock. Not a scratch or mark to indicate forced entry. “Very impressive,” I murmur, pushing the door open.

Emilia spins towards me, gun already drawn and pointed at my chest. Her expression morphs from alert to furious when she recognizes me. “What the fuck are you doing up here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,piccola,” I return, shutting the door behind me to give us warning if someone attempts to come in while we’re here. Then I stroll deeper into the pristine office, ignoring the muzzle tracking my every move. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Ugh,” she groans, rolling her eyes as she finally tucks her gun back underneath her dress.

How the hell did I miss that earlier? Was I so distracted by her in that fiery red dress that I overlooked a whole damn weapon?

What else did I miss?

Before I can dwell on it, Emilia rounds the desk in the corner of the office and flips open the laptop waiting there.

Amateur move, Jason.What kind of idiot leaves a device probably packed with incriminating info just sitting out for anyone to access?

I click my tongue in disappointment, shaking my head.Councilor’s about to have his ass handed to him.

“Shut up,” Emilia snaps.

“I didn’t breathe a word.”

She glances up from the screen, pausing just long enough to throw me a glare. “What’s your problem? Are you obsessed with me? Is that it? Why are you always hovering around me when I’m on the job?”

Yes, I’m fucking obsessed. Have been since the moment I saw you.

I raise both hands. “Now that’s not fair, baby—bringing up the past like that when I saved your ass more times than I can count.”

“You–”

“Ah ah ah,” I wave my index finger at her. “I saved you. Don’t even try to deny it. And for the record, I'm not stalking you. Imagine my shock seeing you at an event hosted in my city every year.”

“An event you haven’t attended in five years,” she mutters, refocusing back on the laptop. Looks like she gets access, because she sticks her hand into her bodice—Jesus Christ—and pulls out a flash drive that she inserts into the computer.

“Checking up on what I’ve been doing the past five years? Now who’s the stalker?”

She doesn’t dignify that with a response. Just clicks a few more times, all business. I chuckle and glance around the office, looking for the camera I have no doubt is in here somewhere.

“You handled the cameras, right?”

“Of course I did,” she rolls her eyes, not bothering to look up. “I’m not a fucking amateur.”

Pride swells in my chest again.That’s my girl.

She takes out the flash drive with obvious satisfaction, tucking it back into her bodice and shutting down the laptop—just as I hear footsteps approaching from the hallway.

I grab her arm as she’s adjusting her dress, earning an indignant, “Hey, what the hell do you think you’re–”

“Shhh.” I hush her, already scanning the office for a hiding spot. No way we’re getting out before they walk in. The voices are practically at the door by now.