When she woke the next morning, the space beside her was still warm, but the man was gone. She didn't know when he had left.
Evelyn Grant rubbed her eyes and sat up in bed. Tilting her head slightly, she noticed a bouquet of pink roses on the nightstand.
There were still glistening dewdrops on the petals, so they must have been delivered recently. A faint, fresh scent of roses drifted to her.
'Then Preston Keaton probably hasn't been gone for long.'
She got out of bed and sat on the edge, a wide smile on her face. It was then she noticed the card tucked into the roses.
The handwriting was beautiful, fluid and graceful.
"Miss me."
Evelyn Grant's eyes curved into crescents as she smiled. She picked up her phone, took a picture, and sent him a message—a slightly rebellious one.
"Not even a little."
Her phone buzzed twice.
"Baby, I only took off an hour ago. I can turn right back around and punish you."
