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At this point, the list is so damn long I’ve lost track. But the biggest crime was forgetting out of the car to surrender myself to Girard, like some self-sacrificing idiot. That was the one that sealed my fate. But to save Alessio, I’d do it again. Not that it stopped Alessio from stacking on more offenses every time I so much as looked at him wrong.

Every time I pissed him off, every eye roll, every challenge, every time I pushed just to see how far he’d let me go, he’d mutter the same thingI’m adding this to your punishment,like some strict, brooding Warden keeping a tally of my crimes. Well, Warden Gualtiero, it's time to show me exactly how long that list really is.

I probably shouldn’t provoke him so much. He’s just too fun to annoy. The man has zero patience, and testing him is my favorite pastime. But the punishments… yeah, I like those the most. The only problem was I had to wait until I was healed, Alessio’s rule.

So, naturally, he put Nurse Randy on his payroll, and the poor guy has been stuck with daily house calls ever since, checking my incision from Ezra’s handy work after Alonzo tackled me like a human wrecking ball, to save my life. I swear, Randy has seen me more than his actual patients at this point.

Today, he finally gave me clearance. I am good to go. The only thing left is a scar. Alessio has a smaller scar that matches mine. And here I thought couples usually get matching tattoos, or maybe a cute photo from a trip toframe for a fun memory. Not us. We havehisandhersscars from sin. But I guess all scars tell a story, and this is part of ours.

Alessio left for a meeting and thinks I’m upstairs, obediently naked and waiting for him in bed, like a good girl. But I’m not. I’m smack dab in the middle of his den of sin, surrounded by shelves of goodies that should probably make me nervous, but don’t, at least not anymore.

Since I officially moved into Alessio’s room, we relocated the mound of sex goodies that Paola owned up to ordering for me, in here. I need to sneak in, find fun things to play with, and sneak out before he gets home.

Instead of wearing just my birthday suit per his request, I’ve opted to squeeze myself into a black leather corset with lace sides that cinches my waist and pushes my tits up so high, they’re practically begging for his face.

Matching thong? Check. Fishnets that hug every curve and disappear into thigh-high boots that click with every step? Double-check.

And I can’t forget the leather gloves that stretch past my elbows, completing my full-on dominatrix, I-run-this-shit vibe I’m going for. I hope Alessio likes it.

My fingers glide over the cabinet, brushing over floggers, cuffs, and paddles. An entire arsenal, meticulously organized like he has a methodical system for his kinks. Excitement curls in my belly, scanning my options. The whips vary—some long and sharp, some meant for teasing, others capable of making a manbeg.

Not that I can picture Alessio begging. But it’ll be fun to try. Even though I’ll bet anything thatI’mthe one who’ll end up begging tonight.

A black leather collar with a cute heart pendant catches my eye, perfectly matching my outfit. It’s not what I expected. It’s more of a drawstring, ideal for an easy choke. I’m trying it on. I slide it over my head, toying with the heart, pulling it tighter, then loosening it as I make my choice.

The thin flogger seems like a perfect choice. It’s enough bite without being overkill. I grab it, along with a pair of handcuffs, sliding them into my boot so the chain dangles over my thigh.

I tap the whip against my gloved hand, tilting my head. “Hmm,” I murmur to myself, my lips curling into a devious smirk. I’m into this version of dress-up, I can’t wait to see Alessio’s reaction. He’ll be home any minute, so I need to hurry. Sliding over to the mirror, I check my makeup. The red matte lipstick hasn’t budged, and mycurls still look perfect. Not that it matters; he’s going to mess up my hair anyway.

A throat clears behind me, and I whip around so fast my boot slips, and I nearly bust my ass on the floor. But I catch myself and straighten up, tossing my hair over my shoulder, like I meant to do that.

“Well, well,” Alessio leans against the doorway with his arms crossed, just like the first time he caught me in here. “Are you lost, Stalker?”

“I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, Warden,” I smirk, twirling the flogger between my fingers. “I’m just picking out your punishment.”

His jaw twitches, his eyes drag over me, and then he kicks the door shut with his foot and moves toward me like he’s going to devour me. And I’ll gladly let him. “And what exactly do you plan to do with that?” he murmurs, nodding to the whip in my hand.

I trail the end of the flogger down his chest, circling it around his wrist before giving a light snap. “Depends on how good you are for me.”

Alessio chuckles, shaking his head like I’m the most ridiculous and irresistible thing he’s ever seen. “You have no fucking idea what you just started.”

He grabs the heart at the bottom of the choker, barely squeezing my neck before releasing it. His hands drop to my thighs, gripping tight, and he lifts me.

My arms wrap around his neck and my legs circle his waist, and because I’m a fucking menace, I swat his ass with the flogger. My smirk widens. “Oh, but I do.”

His body tenses, and for half a second, I swear I see amusement flash in his expression. Then it’s gone.

“Wrong move,Sirena,” he says, walking until my back hits the wall. “Wrong fucking move.”

I smirk, shifting my hips against him, feeling the bulge in his pants. “I know.”

“You’re going to regret saying that.”

A sharp crack lands across my ass, and I gasp, my body arching into him from the sting of his hand. Then another on my other cheek.

“Is that all you got, Warden?”

He narrows his eyes, like he wasn’t expecting me to say that. I press in, my breath teasing against his ear. His grip tightens around my thighs, but I don’t miss the way his fingers flex like he’s trying to keep himself in check.