Page 177 of Mr. Wicked

My brows rose. “No?”

He pressed our noses together. “The best answer you could have ever given me.”

EPILOGUE

Grayson

“Are you going to get in?” I asked Jovana as I swam up to where she sat on the edge of our rooftop pool, her legs dangling in the water. Every time she lifted her foot out, a set of droplets fell from her toes, making circular ribbons across the pool’s surface.

“Maybe.”

I placed my hands on her thighs and threatened to pull her in. “Maybe, huh?”

She laughed, ending the giggle with her teeth on her lip, dragging them across the bottom, my favorite of the two. “I don’t know if I want to get wet.”

Our new penthouse in the Seaport had just been completed last week, and it came with our own private pool. One of the many benefits of being this high up with dark glass surrounding each side of the massive balcony was that clothes weren’t required.

Which was why I didn’t have any on and why I intended to get Jovana naked in the next few seconds.

“If I reached between your legs, I guarantee you’d be wet, baby.”

The warmth from the sunset glowed across her face, enhancing her smile. “That’s a different kind of wet.”

“How about we experience both kinds tonight?” I pushed myself out of the water, taking her lips.

“Mmm.” She moaned. “You’re relentless.”

“Only when it comes to you.”

She ran her fingers through my soaked hair. “How about I go grab us some drinks and check on our food, and if I see that dinner has another twenty or so minutes in the oven, then I’ll negotiate with you ...” She gave me her profile and the biggest grin. “You can get me wet if that means the hot tub instead of the pool.”

“Deal.”

She laughed. “I thought so. Be right back.”

I watched her walk through the sliding glass doors of our condo, a place we had designed together. We’d agreed on every detail, ones as small as the fixtures in the bathrooms and as big as the interior layout and the furniture and decor our designer had chosen.

The first condo we’d lived in had been mine.

This place was ours.

A week in and we were already in love with it.

I swam to the side where I’d stored my phone and checked the screen for the notifications I’d missed. I’d learned months ago to turn off my social media, especially since Jovana was including me in so many of her posts, like the goddamn TikTok she’d had me film with her last week. The only time I was alerted was when she posted a new picture on Instagram or a video on TikTok.

I couldn’t compete with her following. They saw her shit long before I did, but I still wanted to check out her posts as fast as I could.

To show my girl support.

She was fucking killing it online, creating a career that was everything she’d ever dreamed of. By her next birthday, she’d be a millionaire. Not many people as young as her could say that.

What was on the screen of my phone wasn’t anything from social media or one of Jovana’s posts.

It was a text from Laura.

Laura: Call me when you can.

The last time we’d spoken was the night before our wedding. She hadn’t been a guest. The three of us had decided it would be best if she wasn’t seen as an attendee. But she had called to talk about the details of the event and how she planned to give the photos to the media.

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