Page 35 of Devil's Azalea

She hisses viciously, fighting me, but I wrench the weapon free and spin her like a ragdoll. In seconds, both her wrists are trapped in my left hand. Then I yank her against me until her back presses firmly to my chest.

My cock stirs, hardening instantly at her proximity.

I ignore the organ and press the muzzle of her own gun to her temple. “Checkmate. Now what,piccola? I could fucking kill you right now and nothing would happen.” She’s in my territory. My home. I could make her body vanish, and not even herprecious agency would find a trace. And I’d remain untouchable, invincible, no matter what they try.

“Fucking do it, then.” She spits the words, and the wretched woman leans into me, pressing her temple even harder against the muzzle. “It wouldn’t be the first time you killed a Rossi.”

Her angry accusation stuns me into momentary silence. “What the fuck did you just say to me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Before she can elaborate, the elevator chimes a new arrival. The doors slide open, revealing Romero, leaning casually against the iron railing, arms crossed over his chest.

He takes one look at us, and for a split second, disappointment flashes across his face. Then he smirks. “What is this? Some sort of twisted foreplay? I didn’t know that’s what you’re into,sorellina.”

At the sound of that word, Emilia sags against me. Like hearing him call her that drains every ounce of fight from her body. It's been what—ten years?—since any of the guys called her that to her face.

“Fuck you,” I snap at Romero, not even a little amused by his orchestration of this meeting. What demented logic led him to approve her entry and send her up to my sanctuary? What did he think would happen? That we’d kiss and make up? If it were that easy, we would have done it years ago.

“What the hell happened to you, Emily?” Romero continues like I didn’t speak. “You disappeared without a fucking word, and then you reappear trying to bring us down? Why are you doing this?”

“Me?” she asks indignantly, stiffening in my arms. “He’sthe one holding a gun to my head.”

Romero flicks a bored glance my way before returning his attention to the woman in my arms. “Yet, he’s the one bleeding.”

As if his words are some kind of trigger, the pain in my armsuddenly flares to life. Hot, throbbing, insistent. Blood is seeping from the wound, each drop making the sting sharper. In the heat of the moment, I’d forgotten about it.

With a grunt of disgust, I release Emilia’s wrists and shove her away. She immediately drops into a crouch, yanks a wickedly sharp knife from her boot, and points it at me—her gaze bouncing between Romero and me as if expecting either of us to pounce.

I should shoot her back in retaliation. Hell, I should’ve shot her the moment she stepped into my home,mysanctuary, tossing threats around. Men far more powerful than her have lost their lives from doing less.

But as I stare into those fierce honey eyes, watching the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the way her lower lip trembles almost imperceptibly with adrenaline and fury… my finger won’t fucking move.

No matter how much I try to convince myself—do it, teach her a lesson about fucking with me—I simply can’t follow through.

Because I’m fuckingsoftfor her.

“Get the hell out of here, Emilia,” I growl through clenched teeth, hating this damning realization. “Before I really shoot you.” I wave her own gun towards the elevator—a bluff, and a pathetic one at that. I’d cut off my own arm before hurting her.

With her, I’m a fucking toothless wolf. Or, as Enzo put it,a clawless tiger.

But instead of running, she juts her chin stubbornly. “I’m not going anywhere. Not without my property. I worked hard for the intel on that flash drive, and I won’t let you just steal it from me. So go ahead—kill me if you have to. But I’m not leaving without it.”

Stubborn, impossible, beautiful?—

And now I’m torn. Either stay locked in this ridiculousstandoff and risk exposing exactly how deep she’s under my skin, or shoot her somewhere non-lethal and end this shitshow.

A sickening fire settles in my gut as I ice over my gaze and cock the gun, decision made. Romero inhales sharply, but I ignore him.

I raise the gun and aim it right at Emilia’s skull. “Then it seems you’re going to die here tonight.”

Romero immediately steps in front of her, eyes wide with disbelief. “Rafael.”

Thank fuck.Crushing relief floods through me that I don’t have to follow through with my threat. Not that I would have actually shot her. Maybe fired past her ear to scare her. But hell, a lot could have gone wrong with that plan. She might have moved at the wrong moment. One twitch and I could have hit her somewhere fatal.

But following my weakening relief is a burst of anger.I have to go through all this right now because of him.“You helped her get in here, Romero.” Without his interference, she’d never have made it up here. “What makes you think I won’t shoot you too?”

Thinking about it infuriates me.Fucking meddler.

I lower the gun to his chest and pull the trigger.