Page 39 of Pretty Plaything

Chapter 19

IDON’T KNOW AT WHATpoint I fell asleep, but when I wake up, I’m disoriented for a few moments until memories come flooding back.

My wrists are still tied to the headboard above my head, and as I shift, I feel the plug move inside me. Oh hell.

Alessandro.

I hate him so damn much.

Why is he doing this to me?

But heat is again pooling between my legs.

Hot and bothered. That’s how I feel.

I don’t know why I like it.

I just do.

But that’s not the point.

Alessandro has me trapped in his little dungeon, and I want out. But how do I get him to let me go?

Maybe I’m a fool.

Instead of defying him, I should’ve just obeyed his every word, even though I’d hate every second of it. Maybe then he would’ve left me alone.

It may still not be too late for me to try that. I could pretend that I learned whatever lesson he wanted me to learn, and that I’m just another boringly, mind-numbingly obedient wife.

A wife whose only job is to look pretty and smile, and nod my head from time to time when my husband says something.

Ugh!

But I don’t want to do any of that. Not that anyone ever seems to care about what I want. Being who I am and who I want to be has gotten me in trouble more than once.

My mind slips to my childhood.

I was maybe seven years old when I saw my brothers playing football outside. They were running around and laughing, and it looked like they were having so much fun.

I wanted to be a part of it, especially because I’d been stuck inside for way too long. All I could do was take a walk.

When I peeked through the window again, I realized my parents were nowhere in sight. Maybe if they didn’t find out that I went outside, they wouldn’t be mad.

I carefully and quietly slipped outside. When Santiago saw me, his brow furrowed, and he caught the ball, stopping the game.

“Can I play with you?” I asked.

“No, Sienna. Go back inside,” Santiago said.

“Come on,” my brother, Rico, said. “Let her play with us. Just for a bit.”

I flashed Rico a smile. He’s the youngest of my five brothers, and I like him the most, maybe because he’s only a year and a half older than me.

My other brothers—Santiago, Fabio, Ciro, and Leo—are okay, but we’ve never really been as close as Rico and I.

“Yeah, why not?” Fabio said.