NINETY-FIVE.

The sound of water running in the background pulls me out of my deep slumber.

I turn over onto my back, stretching my aching limbs, slowly prying my eyelids open, and I shoot upright when my eyes land on the white, pristine ceiling I know too well.

The moon illuminates the room as the sun has already set, and the rain has also stopped.

My eyes dart around the room, looking for Alessandro, and I quickly realise the water that's running in the background is the shower.

A feverish chill runs down my spine when I think about Alessandro being naked in the shower in the next room.

His bodywash wafts through the room as clouds of condensation escape under the ensuite doorway. I flip over the bedding and swing my legs over the side of the enormous bed.

I peer down at myself, and the clothes I once adorned have been stripped from my body, leaving me in my maroon lacy bralette and thong.

Alessandro would not have stripped me unless he had a solid reason, which I can only presume was becaus