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FIFTY-FOUR.

I emerge from my en suite, towel drying my hair after I took a long hot shower, to wash away the sinful thoughts I had of Wicked when he first appeared in the living room.

I can’t believe I was almost drooling over him as my eyes shamelessly feasted upon him. It’s because he is a spitting image of Ace.

It has to be.

I toss the damp towel on the back of my chair for my vanity mirror and I slip between the bedsheets naked, switching the lamp off. Yawning, I turn to my side, waiting for sleep to claim me.

The sound of my phone vibrating on my bedside table has me rolling back over to retrieve it, and I slide my finger across the screen.

The green light flashes in the top right corner of my phone and I see that I have one unread message. It's strange because I haven't shared my new number with anyone since there is nobody to share it with.

I tap on the message icon, open it, and the name unknown number appears in bold writing.

Unknown Number: I find it odd that Wicked would call me and te
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