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Alessio doesn’t walk like a normal person, he stalks like the killer he is. And right now, I’m the idiot mouse standing in the middle of hisverykinky snake pit.

I look around the room frantically for a place to hide, still clutching this stupid rope like it’s some kind of invisibility cloak from Hogwarts. I hold my breath because not breathing will magically erase the fact that I just barged into his private… whatever the hell this is.

My heart hammers against my ribs, my eyes darting from the bed—nope—to the floor—useless—to thedoor—too far. The sound of metal sliding into place makes my stomach drop. That’s not just the floor creaking. That’s the clickity-clack of him cocking his gun back. Oh, God. He’s going to shoot me.

My brain scrambles into overdrive, running calculations I havezerobusiness running. How fast can I reach the door? Can I dodge a bullet? Does he have a good aim?Of course, he does.Can I…

“Lose something, Stalker?”

His voice slides down my spine like warm honey, and my soul yeets itself right out of my body. I spin around so fast I nearly trip, still clutching the silk rope like a damn fool.

My first thought is to run right past him and out the door. But that plan crashes and burns the second I seehim.

Alessio stands in the doorway, all six-plus feet of pure sin wrapped in an expensive suit, blocking any chance I have to run. His arms are crossed with a wicked grin on his face. But it’s his eyes, the way they rake over me, so damn slow and knowing, it makes my stomach twist. Oh, he’s enjoying every second of my mortification.

“Uh… I was just…” My usually sharp wit decides now is a great time to peace out. There’s no explaining this. No way to justify why I’m standing here, holding his rope, in a room I should’ve never known existed.

Alessio steps inside, shutting the door with a soft click. The sound makes my pulse trip over itself, and my stomach knots when the lock turns.

His gun is still in his hand, cocked back.

Oh, great. Love this day for me.

I force my lips into a smirk, injecting every ounce of sass into my voice to cover the panic bubbling inside me. “Oh, please. Don’t tell me this is yourspecialroom.” I throw up air quotes and wave the rope like it’s a piece of evidence. “Because, uh… wow.”

His lips curve into a slow, sinister smile. “And yet, here you are. Snooping and touching my things.” His eyes go to the rope still wrapped in my white-knuckled grip. “Maybe even imagining?”

Crap.

Heat floods my cheeks. “Are you serious? You think this is my idea of fun?” The words tumble out before I can stop them, and I cross my arms, glaring at him like I’m not seconds away from losing my mind.

He closes the distance between us in two long strides, plucking the rope from my hand. “That’s what everyone says…” he says, taunting me even more. “Until they’ve tried it.”

Alessio practically hovers over me, his presence is both suffocating and overwhelming, pressing in on all sides. It’s like he’s sucking all the oxygen from the room, leaving me lightheaded. And damn it, why does hehaveto smell good? That rich, spicy cinnamon mixed with bergamot, laced with his cologne. It sneaks under my skin, into my lungs, like a drug I never fucking signed up for. I take a step back to put distance between us, but the second my thighs hit the edge of the bed, I know I’m screwed.

“You’re ridiculous,” I snap, lifting my chin. “You lock people in here and… what? Expect them to play along?”

Alessio’s smile sharpens. “Not people. Just you.”

My breath hitches. “That’s not creepy at all,” I mutter.Crap. Did I say that out loud?

His brow lifts. “And you snooping throughmythings isn’t creepy?”

I hate that he has a point.

I huff. “Fine. I’ll leave,” I say, pushing past him, but his hand catches my wrist. His grip isn’t painful, just firm. Alessio’s not-so-subtle way of telling me I’m not going anywhere unless the Warden allows it.

“What the hell are you doing?” I hiss, trying to yank my arm away.

Alessio tilts his head, his eyes darkening. “The rules were clear, Liv,” he tuts, pulling me forward. “And you broke them.” He lets go of my wrist, taking a step behind me. “Now, you need to be punished.”

Punished?My stomach flips, and my eyes dart to the gun still in his hand. Before I can take a breath, and before my brain catches up, the cold metal grazes my arm, and I freeze.

The barrel slides along the curve of my neck, brushing my hair aside. My skin prickles as he drags it lower, tracing a path from my neck to my arm.

“P-punished?” I spit out, my voice cracking because my lungs forget to work. “Just let me go, Alessio.”

“No.” A simple word that grates on every last nerve I have left. It’s not a threat. It’s a fact.