A few weeks later, back in Vermont, Dexter entered their master bedroom suite.

Wearing only one of his shirts, Natalie rose and met her fiancé at the door.

Dexter kissed her hair. “What have you been doing this evening?”

She looked at him through veiled eyes. “Reading.”

Reading didn't require a submissive gaze. Something wasn't as it appeared. His eyes went to the sofa where she'd been seated. His neck tensed, the muscles becoming rigid as his gaze landed upon the book she'd been reading. “Where did you get that?”

“My mother.”

“Your mother?”

Natalie went to the sofa and lifted the old book. The pages were yellow and the spine was marred with the scars of multiple readings. On the cover was the title: My Life as It Didn't Appear.

“Your mother gave you that?”

Natalie nodded.

“Why?”

She shrugged. “I guess she decided I wasn't a baby who needed to be protected anymore. She thought it was time I knew the truth.”

The book, My Life as It Didn't Appear, dictated by Claire Nichols Rawlings and penned by Meredith Banks, detailed Claire Nichols's meeting and first marriage to Anthony Rawlings. Upon its publication, it had been an instant bestseller. Through years of legal wrangling, which concluded over fifteen years ago, the Rawlings attorneys successfully had it removed from sale and circulation. The world forgot, ceasing to obsess over old news. There were more important stories. And through it all, somehow, Nat's parents had managed to keep its existence, as well as its contents, hidden from their baby girl.

“And how does it make you feel about your father?” Dexter asked.

“You know what it's about?”

“Bug.”

Her entire body stiffened. He'd asked her a question. Instead of answering, she'd replied with her own question. Natalie quickly re-spoke, “No different.”

“How can you say that?”

“How can I not?” Natalie replied. “And before you reprimand me, that is an answer. I don't feel differently. Why would I?”

Dexter led her to the sofa and they sat. “What do you mean?”

“How could I think less of him when I love you?”

It took Dexter a minute, but then he let go of her hand and went to the bookcase. Behind a false panel—one that she didn't know existed—Dexter brought out a copy of the same book.

Natalie shook her head as she reached for it. “How?”

“I found it among my father's things after he died.” Dexter opened the cover and pulled out a yellowed piece of paper. “And this.”

Natalie silently read. It wasn't legal, no binding contract. It was simply an agreement between college friends. They'd begun a company: CSR-Company Smithers Rawlings. Together they vowed to make it great, uniting their families and lives forever.

“What happened?” Nat asked.

“After a few years your father bought mine out. It was very amicable. Mr. Rawlings paid my father a generous sum. They both went on to do very well. You know about your father. Mine took the money and started investing in real estate. It wasn’t the buyout. It was the part about keeping the two families united that got me thinking. My mother was also gone, so I didn’t have a family. I wanted one. Then I read the book and looked into the Rawlings family. That was when I knew...”

Natalie laid the book on the sofa and fell to her knees. Her bare core clenched as she scooted between his spread legs. Looking up, she spoke. “It was when you knew I belonged to you...that we were meant to be a family?”

“Yes, bug. That we belonged together. I knew what I wanted, what I needed. And after watching you for a while, I knew in my heart that you were born to be my queen.”

“But my dad...” It wasn't easy for her to read the things her father had done to her mother. It was even more difficult to say them. “...she awoke to luxury?”

“Is that a question?”

“I think it is.”

“I didn't use your mother's story as a guide. It simply gave me an idea of how you'd respond. Think about it. Your mother came from a simple life. Your father gave her what she'd never experienced.”

Natalie nodded. “A detour. I came from wealth—from everything.”

“And did you appreciate it?”

“No, not really. It just was. I didn't question it. I appreciate it more now.”

Dexter kissed her hair. “I love you, Nat. Do you think that one day you'd want to write down our story for our daughter to read?”

Her cheeks warmed. “No, I'd rather keep it in my heart. But if one day I think she needs to hear it, I'll share.”

“You will?”

“I will. It helps to know that there isn't anything wrong with me. I'm not the only one to experience these feelings.”

“What feelings?”

“Love so overpowering it consumes me. An irrational yet intoxicating need to both please you and make you happy that supersedes all else, even my own safety.”

“No. Your safety was never and will never be in question. I told you that safety is a matter of trust. Do you trust me?”

“I do.” After all of the things he'd done and all that she willingly accepted, how could she not?

“Danger,” Dexter went on, “is something else. However, eliciting your tears doesn't put you in danger. It's never to harm you. It's to hurt you. There's a difference. What we do is controlled pain, learning how much you can handle, how much you're willing to sacrifice for me. It's seeing my marks on your skin and hearing your cries. That doesn't make me want to harm you, but to worship you.”

Nat nodded. “I understand. After a few weeks in that room, I found myself anxious for your arrival while at the same time scared. I feared I was going crazy. I mean, I shouldn't have wanted what I knew you'd do.” She looked at the book. “Now I know that I'm not crazy. Like my mom has said: it is what it is. Don't fight what you can't change. Now it makes more sense.

“It's what we enjoy behind closed doors. And that's okay.” She smiled. “You asked what I'd sacrifice. For you, my king, anything.” She knew in her heart there were no limits. “I'd move naked into the room in our basement if you desired.”

Dexter's eyes shone as he reached for the buttons lining the front of her shirt-dress. “I think I like having you here in our room, naked and on your knees.”

Relief washed through her as she leaned back on her bent toes, shifting to his desired position. “I love you.”

After he’d opened her shirt-dress, he looked down to her spread legs. “Are you wet, my queen?”

“Yes.”

“What will you do to earn the right to come?”

Her heart hammered within her chest as her thighs glistened. “Like everything else, that decision is yours. I willingly give you control. As always, my answer is anything.”