Theodore thought an asset like Astori, or some other posh lass from a highfalutin Pure-blood family, would fit the bill. But he couldn't give a toss about all that purity and nobility baloney. He called off the wedding, spat in his father's face, and scarpered from the estate.

Theo chose you, for god's sake. He would've picked you over a thousand other girls. Always you⎯just you, you silly girl.

Oh, love, if only you knew he never regretted ditching all the posh stuff from his aristocratic family, and how he adores you for picking him. Ten years together must mean a fair bit, eh?

God, indeed, it does.

It means so much that his parents decide to reconcile with their son and accept the lady of his heart. It'll probably be a shock, but he still doesn't care. Why should he forbid his sweet girl anything just because his parents are grouchy? “Do you want 'em to kick the bucket? Right now?” His melodious voice floats up from below as you walk down the stairs. Theo leans against the front door, arms crossed over his chest, grinning from ear to ear, clearly admiring you.

Your makeup is on point, with hot-pink eyeshadow and sparkly gloss on your honey-plump lips. You rock black fishnet tights, a white low-cut top, a denim miniskirt, and a short jacket with a fur collar, all paired with killer high heels and a cute little handbag⎯that's all you need, and Theo loves it. To him, you are more than just a bimbo girl; you're his captivating princess, his irresistible temptress, his ultimate desire.

His warm hands hold your cute, pouty cheeks, his lips gently brushing the tip of your nose. Theo beams at the sound of your giggles. “You smell lovely and look gorgeous,” he remarks. Truly, you're like a delightful doll, so graceful. Do you know the effect you have on him when you pout? He wants to run his fingers through your curly locks and, with some carefully, lower you down between his knees for a very deep conversation.

Exactly. Dinner with the parents, but there's still a whole free hour. “D'you wanna play, dolly?”