Captive Princess
"Vincent, I—"
"Principessa," he murmured, stroking my cheek. "This will be our secret."
Principessa. Little princess.
That was the word that made me fall completely.
For the next two years, we maintained this strange, clandestine relationship. By day, he was the same composed, rational Vincent. But at night, he'd whisper "Principessa" in my ear and fuck me until my legs gave out.
I thought he loved me.
Until my birthday.
I'd spent the entire day preparing, put on my most beautiful dress, and booked a table at the restaurant where we first met. I was going to tell him I loved him, that I wanted to be with him, no matter the cost.