Page 110 of Devil's Tulip

“That must’ve been really nice,” I murmur, imagining the reunion.

“It was.” He gives me a small smile. “Not too long after that, Emilia came back to the city as well, and for a little while, she and Rafael dated. The man was obsessed with her and called a meeting to announce he was going to marry her.”

I arch a brow. “And?”

He exhales sharply, his jaw tightening. “Then a lot of shit went down. It turned out Emilia’s dead father wasn’t so dead after all—and worse, he was trafficking little girls. It was a whole lot. The man ended up getting killed by some law enforcers—FBI, if I’m not mistaken—and after that, Emilia disappeared again. We lost touch with her.” His face closes off, his whole energy shifting, and I recognize the emotion instantly—anger.

I want to press him for more details about Emilia’s dad. How could someone who was previously dead miraculously be alive? Did he fake his death? And how the hell did a man go from being a detective fighting for justice totrafficking kids?

But when I glance out the window, I realize it’s getting really late. Pete must be getting so angsty waiting for us. “You guys never saw Emilia again after that?” I ask Michael as I slowly get up from his lap, wincing as his cock slips out of me. My core clenches wantonly at the loss, and little aftershocks of pleasure send tingles down my spine.

He licks his lips, eyeing my body lasciviously. “Not until last year when she suddenly showed up again—tried to kill Maximo and kidnapped Elira.”

“What?” I frown at him, sure I must have misheard, as I step into my panties and shrug on my bra.

“Yeah…” He stands up as well and tugs his pants up over his hips. “Thankfully, no one got hurt. She disappeared again, and I’ve been looking for her ever since. This time, I’m determined she won’t remain hidden for as long as she did the last time.”

I shake my head as I pull my dress on, giving Michael my back so he can zip me up. Could the trauma she went through have messed with her head? I can’t even imagine suddenly discovering my parents weren’t dead after all—only to find out on the same day that they weren’t the heroes I believed them to be. And then to lose them again all over again?

Like Michael said, it’s a whole lot.

“Don’t look so gloomy. We didn’t turn out so bad, did we?” Michael frowns slightly when I turn to face him. “And if you’re worried about Emilia, don’t. She’s fine.”

“How can you know that?”

“I just do. Trust me,” he insists and presses a deep, distracting kiss to my lips. I barely have time to process before I’m melting into him, and when he finally pulls back, I’m panting for air, my brain foggy. It takes a second to remember what we were even talking about.

Michael picks his shirt up from the floor, the muscles in his arms and chest flexing with the movement, his tattoos shifting like they’re alive.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo. Something to remember my family by. But I’ve always been scared to get one.” My hand goes to my necklace, glad I at least have that.

It wasn’t just the pain that kept me from getting inked, though that was part of it. It was also Aldo—how he would have reacted to me ‘tainting’ my skin. He was always very vocal about how much he hated tattoos and even flat-out forbade his men from ever getting one.

“You’d look very pretty with ink on you.” Michael’s eyes darken as his gaze sweeps over me, like he’s already imagining it. “What do you think you’d want to get?”

I frown, trying to think. It’s been so long since I considered the idea that nothing comes to mind. My eyes flick to the ink on his skin, then I say slowly, “I think for my first tattoo—to thank you for my new job—I’d get anything you want, wherever you want it.”

But it’s not only to thank him but because I also trust his judgment.

His gaze turns predatory, and he leans into me until I think he might kiss me again. “Anything I want? Wherever I want? You sure you want to make that offer to a man like me?”

We literally just had sex, but my heart starts pounding like I’m brand new to his touch, my tongue gluing to the roof of my mouth so all I can do is nod wordlessly.

“Look forward to it, baby.” He smirks, then presses a slow, lingering kiss to the corner of my lips.

32

GIANNA

I take a deep sip of my hot chocolate, savoring the rich sweetness as I flip the page of my prep book. My eyes jump over the text, but I’ve been at it for so long the words are starting to blur together, my head throbbing with each attempted paragraph.

With a sigh, I set my half-empty mug down on my brand new desk and push myself up from my brand new chair. As I stretch my back—hearing the satisfying pop of my spine—I admire the study area, taking a much-needed break to walk around my old bedroom.

When we got home from my hospital last week, I asked Michael for a laptop and immediately registered for the NCLEX-RN test. My ATT (authorization to test) finally came in last night, and I scheduled my exam for three months from now.

It’s been a year since I graduated from school, and I haven’t touched a textbook since, so I need all the time I can get to prepare properly. And beneath that practical concern lies something deeper—an intense, almost desperate need to impress Michael with my test scores and subsequent work ethics. The thought of disappointing him makes my stomach knot.

I’m heading back to my desk when there’s a soft knock on my bedroom door. Before I can answer, it swings open, and in walks my husband, carrying a tray.

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