“You’re the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.”

Deimos’ sweet murmurings and gentle touches had lured you in, seduced you before you had any hope of resisting. He came from fabulous wealth and no small amount of power, but with you, he’d always been so caring and loving that you never saw the cutthroat businessman.

His proposal came sooner than you expected, but who could say no to eight carats and that flawless smile? It wasn’t long before you were dressed up in a gorgeous white gown of billowing silk, walking down a lavishly decorated aisle to your groom.

The honeymoon was spent at one of his family’s summer homes, this particular villa in the Maldives, and you found yourself blissfully happy and at peace.

When you got home, Deimos made it clear he had certain expectations of you. His words were sweet, honeyed, yet carried a weight and command that you couldn’t ignore. He gave you gifts, insisting you need not choose your own wardrobe when he could buy you all the clothes and jewelry you need. He’d conveniently planned a date night any evening you’d planned on going out with friends, so you’d cancel to spend time with him. Little things individually, but it was hard to deny how they added up. Still, to bring it up to him felt so ungrateful. How could you possibly complain about him buying you expensive things and taking you out for fancy dinners without sounding like a total brat?

So you didn’t complain. You just listened to his comments and tried to adjust. Never neglect your appearance, don’t talk when you don’t really have something to say, accept help with grace, surrender yourself to the process, allow yourself to be led, be aware of your body language, don’t be too independent, and above all, stay in touch with your “feminine energy”. After all, he loves you like no one else ever has or ever could.

You’re currently standing in the huge kitchen, cooking dinner despite the private chef Deimos has on payroll, when you hear the door open, followed by a warm voice.

“I’m home, dearest.”