The luxury cruise was a world apart from reality. The ocean stretched endlessly, reflecting the fading sunlight, while the grand ship sliced through the water with precision. Grant Collins, the ship's conductor, was as in control of this vessel as he was of everything else. At forty, with his commanding presence, he was a man who had always gotten what he wanted. And tonight, I was no exception.

I sat on his lap in the captain's quarters, the soft hum of the ship beneath us. His hands were firm on my waist, his gaze never leaving me, but tonight something felt off. The silence in the room weighed heavier than usual.

"Why are you crying?" His voice was low, controlled, but there was an edge to it.

I didn’t answer right away. I couldn’t. The tears had come too fast, too unexpectedly. Maybe it was the pressure of everything—the isolation, the constant tension between us, the way he controlled every single moment of my life. I couldn’t breathe under it anymore.

His fingers gripped my chin, forcing me to look up at him. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of something dark behind them.

"Stop crying." His voice was a command, cold and demanding.

I bit my lip, trying to stifle the sobs, but the more I tried, the worse it got. The tears fell harder, until his hand slammed against my cheek, the sharp sting shocking my body into stillness.

"Do you think this is how you’re supposed to act?" he snapped, his grip on my hair tightening, pulling my head back to expose my throat.

I gasped, trembling in his hold, my chest tight from the mixture of pain and frustration. But Grant didn’t let go. He never did.

His other hand traced the side of my face, his touch deceptively soft as he tilted my chin upward again. "I told you," he said slowly, as if explaining to a child, "you belong to me. You obey me."

He pulled my hair tighter, forcing my head back even further, making it impossible to escape his gaze. His lips hovered over mine, a mockery of affection. “Stop the tears, sweetheart. You don’t want to make me hurt you more.”