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Before becoming a courtesan, before leaving a life of one form of freedom to indulge in the freedom of another sordid and elicit type, there was one thing I loved beyond measure: Christmas.

I assume the love of the holiday is shared by many people, young and old. It's a time when the weather dips away from the languishing heat of the summer, a time when snow begins to fall gently over the ground.

It's a time for families to come together, for happiness to reign over the hearts of each person who embraces the magic of that time of year. Food was always plenty, and laughter and surprise teemed in the rooms as children and adults opened presents on Christmas morning.

I've been a courtesan to Aiden Oliver for three years now. And in those years, I've never been allowed to celebrate the holiday I loved so dearly. Every time I was brave enough to request something simple - a tree or a wreath - he'd balked, and was always quick to remind me that our relationship was not about the things I loved, it was only about his desires and needs.

Aiden hates Christmas. The mere mention of the holiday was so revolting to him that the sharp lines of his handsome face would twist up into a look of pure disgust. He took many issues with the holiday, but never bothered to explain them. The subject would be closed down just as quickly as it was brought up. That was that.

That was life with Aiden Oliver.

Never wavering in his absolute control of the world around him, Aiden was a cunning and shrewd man. He wore elegance and wealth as a second skin. He could easily and efficiently pick out the strengths and weaknesses of every person whose path he crossed.

What he lacked was empathy and humility. Because he had no need for either.

In all the years I'd been with Aiden, a Christmas never passed where I didn't attempt to seduce him into celebrating. I wasn't dumb enough to blatantly rebel. Aiden would only punish me if I attempted to force his hand. But that didn't mean I couldn't play.

Refusing to be his perfect submissive, I found my own ways of spreading holiday cheer. Sometimes, I'd whistle a holiday song or hum beneath my breath just loud enough for him to hear me. Every day of December I made sure to wear red or green. Even naked, I remembered to wear emerald or rubies, that minuscule rebellion always pulling a smirk from his full, sculpted lips.

A Christmas Eve hadn't passed that I didn't wear a red negligee to his bed. And not a Christmas had passed where he hadn't torn it from my body, crumpled it in his arrogant hands, and tossed it away. We never spoke of what I was doing. It had become our little game. So, as Christmas approached on the fourth year I've been with him, I set my sights on seducing him into celebrating once again. I thought nothing of it. It was just play. A simple game that he humored without threat of punishment.

At least, it used to be that game...until the year that Aiden stopped playing.