Castro leaves me on the bed, rubbing a towel over my hair, as he disappears into the walk-in wardrobe. He reappears minutes later, holding a long, dark blue gown. He places it over the chair, then ventures back in again. This time, he reemerges holding a pair of shoes that match the dress perfectly. I watch in confusion as he repeats this process several times, each time returning with something new.

“Right, baby, I'm going to take a shower. Please don't go anywhere,” he stresses. His hands cup my face, and his lips touch my forehead. “I won't be long.” I watch in awe as he saunters back into the...