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I shuffle into the bathroom and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair’s a mess, and I’ve got that look, the one that screams,yeah, I got wrecked last night.

My cheeks heat up as memories flood back, and I look away from the mirror, unable to look at myself. Iremember every position, every touch, every filthy thing he whispered. My body tingles at the thought of him. That stupid smirk, those hands.

Okay, calm down.

I roll my eyes at myself brushing my teeth, but then the memory of his stupid, perfect, double-pierced custard-slinger dripping down my throat flashes through my mind, just as it’s time to spit.

God, I’m hopeless. I rinse and spit, trying to shake him off, but the more I try, the more it feels like I’m chasing my own tail. I jump in the shower, letting the hot water relax my sore muscles. Soaping up, I can’t help thinking of Alessio’s hands all over me, gripping, teasing, owning every inch of me.

Ugh, I might need to blast the cold water if I’m going to survive this morning.

I wash my hair, rinse off, and grab a plush towel. Drying off quickly, I wrap my wet curls in another towel and glance at the foggy mirror. With a sigh, I toss the towel aside and head into the closet, fingers trailing over the clothes until I spot a simple dark green shirt dress. It’s soft, stretchy, and clings just right without feeling too tight. Perfect for a day of nothing.

I pull the dress over my head, then start drying my hair. Afterward, I apply a coat of mascara and finish mylook with pink Dior lip oil, something I never would’ve splurged on myself, but Paola talked me into it, and honestly, I’m not sorry.

Just as I’m about to mentally pat myself on the back for my efforts, there’s a knock on the door. Of course, it’s Paola. The beast only visits at night, and this is my prison. Well... if prison had cashmere sheets and a massively stacked Mafia Don who knew how to make your body do things you didn’t even think were humanly possible.

I swing the door open, and she’s standing there, looking as calm and composed as ever. “He’s waiting for you in his office,” she says, not even bothering with a “good morning.”

“Let me guess, he’s not the patient one today?” I raise an eyebrow, trying to gauge her expression.

Paola stares at me with a small smile. “I wouldn’t keep him waiting. He’s in a mood today.” Great. Why do I feel like this is my funeral? I sigh dramatically, leaning against the doorframe. “Fine, let’s get this over with,” I tell her, following her downstairs to his office, each step feeling heavier than the last.

When we reach the hallway to his office, she stops, not daring to be seen near the door. “When you’re done, come find me in the kitchen. I’m baking cookies and would love some help,” Paola offers.

“Chocolate peanut butter?” I ask, already imagining the sweet, gooey goodness. Paola made them two nights ago, and I nearly devoured the whole batch in one sitting. Her baking is the best, and although my thighs won’t approve, I’m not turning them down.

“Like there’s any other kind to make,” she says with a smile before walking toward the kitchen.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself as I head into Alessio’s office. I push the door open without bothering to knock. He summoned me, after all. I’m half-tempted to throw a smart-ass comment his way, but the second I see him leaning against his desk with that devilish look in his eyes, I know I’m in trouble.

“Don’t you knock?” His tone is harsh, like I’m some disobedient child he’s punishing.

Only then do I notice he’s not alone. Kota and Nathan sit across from him, shooting each other uncomfortable looks. I’m just glad the other asshole isn’t here. I haven’t seen much of him lately, not that I mind.

I keep my eyes on Alessio, heat curling low in my stomach. “Sorry, but you did beckon me, Warden,” I smirk, knowing full well it’ll set him off.

His jaw tightens before he flicks a look at both men, and they’re gone without him saying a single word. The soft click of the door shutting cages me in with him.

“I didn’t know you were busy,” I say, trying my best to sound sweet. “Why call me if you couldn’t handle me?”

“You need to learn respect,” he growls, stepping closer. “Especially in front of my men.”

His hand shoots out, thumb and forefinger clamping my lips shut. My heart slams against my ribs, but I roll my eyes, silently challenging him.

“Sounds like someone’s used to getting their way,” I mumble through his grip. His fingers tighten. That look in his eyes tells me I’m definitely getting punished for this sass.

“You’re not here to talk.”

I grin, pulling back just enough to say, “Well, I’ve got two sets of lips, Warden. Either shut me up or fill me up. Pick one.”

The flash in his eyes sends a thrill through me. His smirk is entirely way too dangerous. But I enjoy getting a rise out of him, the punishments are more fun. Alessio takes a few steps back, settling behind his desk. He leans back in his chair, watching me like a predator about to pounce.

“Take off your dress and crawl to me.” His voice is deadly calm, likehe’s daring me to disobey.

For a split second, I consider defying him, just to see what he’d do. But his ice-blue eyes staring into my soul make me think twice. My fingers tremble as I pull the dress over my head, letting it drop to the floor. Only my white lace bra and panties remain, and moments like this make me glad they were finally delivered, but I had to order more.

The mafia monster has a fetish.