Page 30 of The Daredevil

A what? My core tightened as I waited for his reply.

Royce:A wild woman dressed in sophistication. You give off the proper image, but in private, you’re improper.

I dropped my phone onto my lap at his accuracy. How could he read me like that? I never considered myself an open book. Julian didn’t even know this about me. Sex with him was . . . just sex, nothing wild or unexpected. I never dared to explore with him because he was too . . . “proper.”

A part of me wanted to know how “improper” Royce could be, but the logical part of my brain told me to stay put.Don’t go into unknown territory. There could be traps.

Michelle:I neither confirm nor deny, Viking.

Royce:Oh, so you like Vikings.

Michelle:Not sure if a Viking is a gentleman, though.

Royce:You’re an angel with horns when they suit you.

I laughed again. If only he knew I’d dressed up as an angel with horns on Halloween.

I didn’t know how much longer I could continue chatting with him and not have to run to the bedroom for a change of panties. I should have done it earlier, but I didn’t want to leave the conversation for one second. What did that say about me?

Hooked and crazy.

I enjoyed flirting with Royce. He possessed an adventurous side whereas Julian was all business.

At one point, I was attracted to business executives, thinking they had something I lacked—knowledge. Someone who ran a successful business had to have vision, and a person with a vision knew where he was going. That had been my assumption. Since I hadn’t known where I wanted to go, I had hoped my significant other could help me.

I was wrong. No one could help me but me. A man dressed in an expensive suit didn’t mean his character was as spotless as his wardrobe.

Did anyone know what they wanted in life? Some people seemed to know, or they made it appear like they did. Talking to Royce reminded me of moments when I felt limitless, where nothing could trap me, where I could do anything I wanted. Even back during my pageant years, there had been a few days when I felt that hopeful. Those precious moments didn’t appear often, though. Maybe that was why I enjoyed Royce’s company, even though it was just over text messages. With him, I didn’t feel the need to be perfect.

Glancing at the nickname he’d given me, I smiled. What would my friends think if I told them about this conversation?

Michelle:An angel and a Viking have the most interesting conversation.

Royce:They do. I think we should do this more often. What do you think, angel?

Michelle:I concur, Viking. (smile emoji) (shield emoji) (sword emoji)

Royce:Need to take a call. I’ll call you after.

Michelle:It’s okay. You don’t have to. Go do what you have to do. We can chat another time.

Royce:No, I want to chat again. I’ll call you back.

A sunburst of joy warmed my tummy. Did he mean “call,” as in a phone call, or did he mean text? I wouldn’t mind hearing his voice, but that could send my body to uncharted territory. I should probably take this opportunity to get a new pair of underwear.

What would he think if he knew his effect on me? He wouldneverknow. That would give him too much power. Besides, that wasn’t something you shared with your . . . umm . . . friend? No. I didn’t flirt with my friends like this. Royce was in between a friend and something else—a friend and a sexy Viking.

A smile touched my lips as I entered my bedroom and changed into clean lacey black underwear and tossed the wet ones into the hamper.

Sitting on the couch, I turned on my laptop and concentrated on my blog posts. Reviewing my notes and images, I applauded myself for taking this job. Their mission to help women and men stay beautiful with cutting-edge methods fascinated me. The world was changing at an alarming rate, and beauty products could help people adjust to the fast pace. There were so many products that promised all kinds of things out there, and I’d tried a lot of them, only to be disappointed. Not to mention they cost a fortune. But NewYou Beauty was affordable, and that philosophy sold me because it reached the masses rather than the few.

The writing flowed effortlessly. I’d wait to visit the NewYou Beauty Resort before I finalized the images. Feeling accomplished after finishing the first blog post and saving it to my folder, I stretched out my arms. A yoga session would be wonderful tonight. My body needed a break from the excruciating exercise from the last few days.

Something smashed into the front window, and a rock landed in the middle of my living room floor, inches from the coffee table where I worked. My body jerked, and my heart hammered. I rushed to the window but stood close to the wall in case something else flew in. When nothing did, I peered out the broken window and saw no one.

It was seven in the evening, and the streets had a few cars passing by. Who would throw a rock into my window? Was it an accident? I lived on the fourth floor, not the first floor. Was it intended for me? It couldn’t be. I didn’t know anyone here. Maybe it was meant for the previous tenant?

Maneuvering around the glass shards, I picked up the rock and removed the folded note taped to it.Unfolding the note, I read the message, and my heart lurched in fear.

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