I’m warm, and a heavy blanket wraps around me. I shift, but the blanket tightens. My eyes open when I realize that it isn’t a blanket, but an arm. I hear Whitaker’s unmistakable grunt behind me, and I freeze.

“I know you’re awake. You’ve been a bad little girl,” he murmurs behind me. I start to attempt to wiggle out of his grasp, when his hand moves and wraps around my naked breast.

“I’m naked,” I announce.

He chuckles, his teeth nipping my shoulder. “You are. Tell me why you ran,” I order. I press my lips together, but he doesn’t allow me to move, not even a centimeter. “Answer me,” he barks.

I’ve never seen him angry, not really. I blink at his words, my head jerking as if he’s physically slapped me. Pressing my lips together, I shake my head. When I do, I realize that I am not in my room. I’m not in the turret. I’m surrounded by black sheets, and dark furniture.

It’s the dark room to my light.

“The press took those pictures. They’re going to find out, and your reputation is going to be ruined. I can’t be your downfall Whitaker, not when I love you so much,” I say in a rush, tears filling my eyes and quickly falling.

An expression I’ve never seen before crosses over his face. “You love me?” he asks.

I nod, shifting my hands to cup his cheeks. His scruff scrapes my palms and I sigh. “I do. I don’t know how it happened or when, but I fell in love with you. I fell in love with the man who bought me,” I breathe.

He lowers his head, his lips brush mine, his tongue tastes my mouth quickly before he lifts his head, his gaze finding mine.

“I trust you, Stassia. I love you. Be mine, me purchasing you aside. Be mine. Willfully be my wife,” he breathes.

I don’t answer him, I’m not able to. His mouth crashes against mine and he fills me with his tongue. Then, without saying another word he slowly makes love to me. It’s the most beautiful moment of my entire life. When he comes, he whispers his love for me, his lips hovering above my own.

I never thought this would be my life. That I could find a woman who loves me, who wants me for me. A woman who could walk next to me on the red carpet, then sleep beside me in my bed. Pulling her against my body, I run my fingers through her strawberry blonde hair.

“Fuck, Stassi,” I groan.

She shifts her leg between my thighs, dropping her head back to look up at me. “Do you love me, Whitaker?”

I smirk, shaking my head once, then twice. Disappointment etches in her features at my moves. “I love you with all that I am, Stassi. I wanted a companion who could not leave me, who would not want me for what I can do for her. I wanted someone who needed me, for me, not for some kind of career jumping off point. I didn’t know that I would fall in love with you. I definitely did not anticipate doing so, so quickly,” I admit.

Lowering my head, I kiss her. My soon to be wife, the hopefully soon to be mother of my children.

My dancer.

Mine.

My Stassi.