“Is lying to her ‘doing the right thing,’ too? Odd,” Konstantin mused, his voice sardonic.

Ambrose frowned out the window, but said nothing. He didn’t want to think about that.

To take his mind off things, he contemplated the details of the new contract he’d signed right before the guys had picked him up, and wondered if he should tell his HR rep to hire a few more drivers. Drivers for other companies checked in regularly, hoping to get their foot in the door with Langly. Thankfully, having a good reputation as an employer meant never being short-handed.

A million years later, Banner pulled into the driveway of a modest brick bungalow and put the car in PARK.

“Here?” Ambrose raised an eyebrow. “It looks so . . . normal.”

“And what? We don’t?” Konstantin leaned over the seat and looked Ambrose up and down. “Hey, Master Ambrose, who let you out of the house without your leather pants? And where’s your whip?”

“I’ll show it to you later.” Ambrose winked at him, and Kon rubbed the top of his head affectionately.

Banner shook his head. “I can’t take you two assholes anywhere. Now be polite.”

“Speaking of assholes, did Everly give hers up for you yet?”

Ambrose glared at Konstantin. He wasn’t about to share the intimate details of his relationship with her.

“Ow. Enough with the ‘fuck off and die’ eyes. I just wanted to know when you’re going to share her with me. You like DP, and you always share girls with me.”

An unfamiliar jealousy gnawed at him. It was true that he and Konstantin usually thought nothing of sharing girls, but Everly was a different story. “You touch her and I’ll kill you.”

“Calm the fuck down.” Kon grimaced at him. “Like I’d touch her without your permission, suka.”

They got out of the car and walked to the door, both of them in a sullen silence.

Banner was trying to swallow his amusement.

“What’s so funny?” Ambrose grumbled. “Other than that bitch calling me a bitch?”

“You. This must be serious, if you’re not willing to share.”

“Being in love makes you grumpy and selfish,” Kon said. “I won’t bring it up again, but if you change your mind, I’m more than willing. She’s got curves in all the best places.”

“Don’t look at her,” he snapped.

Now they both laughed at him. Banner gave him a playful shove, and he stepped partially onto the snow-covered lawn. His instinctual reaction was to grab a handful of the fluffy stuff and give Banner a face wash, but he wasn’t in the mood. Now there was snow melting in his shoe, and he was excited and irritated and overwhelmed.

“Like a dog with a bone.” Konstantin shook his head.

Banner rang the doorbell, since he’d been there before. A sixtyish-year-old woman answered the door. Her short-sleeved T-shirt revealed a multitude of faded tattoos on her arms.

“Hi, Della.”

She smiled and stepped back to let them in. “Heya, Banner. Come on in. Just toss your coats on the rack there.”

The house was warm and smelled of bleach, like they’d interrupted her cleaning the bathroom.

“So which one of you lucky gentlemen is Ambrose?”

Konstantin grabbed Ambrose’s shoulder and moved him forward, then slapped his back.

Della smiled kindly. “Do you know what you’re looking for? Depending on how complicated the design is, I might be able to finish it while you’re here. If it’s fussier, it might take a few days.”

His heart felt like it was thudding in his throat.

“Uh, I don’t know. She’s a brat. She’s fun and funky and drop-dead gorgeous.” And she deserved the best collar anyone could make.

Della snorted. “You let the girl you want to take as a slave be a brat?” She shook her head. “The beginning of the relationship sets the tone, Ambrose.”

A girl in her late twenties padded into the room, dressed in a 1950s-pinup-girl dress. She went directly to Della and curtsied, her gaze politely downcast.

“The leather swatches, please, Misty.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She curtsied again and left the room. Pretty little thing, but she didn’t hold a candle to Everly.

“See? Now, Misty would never give me sass. Maybe she had some fight in her when we met, but I fixed that quick.”

Misty was back in a moment and knelt at Della’s feet, offering up a stack of leather in different colors. Della ignored her.

“So is this collar for play or daily use?” She went to the sofa and arranged herself comfortably. Misty knee-walked to her and waited, the swatches still offered up to her mistress.

“Probably for play. I’ll get her to help me pick out something subtle for wearing in vanilla contexts.”

Again, Della looked nonplussed. “I’ll make something sturdy. If she needs a lot of training, the collar you put on her might need to take some abuse. Now, do you want something like lace or bells on it? Is she a baby girl or a kitten?”

A montage of Everly in costumes and situations they hadn’t explored together yet started playing in his head. So many perverted things he wanted to do to her.

“Something neutral is good for now.”

“Spikes? Decorative chain? Something hand-painted? Her slave name?”

Suddenly, the room felt too small and sweat sprung out on his forehead. Banner never said this would be like playing Twenty Questions. Of course, he could always buy her more collars later, but none of the others would ever be this important first one—the meaningful one—that spoke of his commitment to her.

Della took the swatches from Misty. “Go get drinks. This looks like it might take a while. What about a metal O-ring or a D-ring to attach a leash to? Do you want one? Two? Three?”

Finally, easier questions. How had Banner come here alone for Kate’s first custom collar? Ambrose might have fainted if the guys hadn’t volunteered to go with him.

“Just one.”

“How wide do you want the collar? As wide as a posture collar?”

“No. Wide enough to make her feel owned, but not wide enough to restrict movement.”

“How big is her neck?”

Shit. How was he supposed to measure for something like that?

He looked at his hands and thought about how her neck felt when he had them wrapped around it.

“Show me.”

A little creeped out about having this conversation with a strange woman, he made a circle with his hands, remembering instinctively how much his fingers overlapped.

Banner and Konstantin both chuckled, but Della waved a hand at them.

“Oh, like you were any better, Banner.” She rolled her eyes. “The first time you came, you had to bring me that ugly sex-store collar you were using on Kate to show me her size.”

Misty brought them coffee. Ambrose was coached through picking colors and embellishments, and hoped he’d chosen things Everly would like.

The design of the collar was important, but whether she’d accept it was still a mystery. Sure, they’d said the L word to each other, but that didn’t mean she was ready to accept him as her Master in a more permanent sense. Maybe it was “I love you for now,” or “I love you based on what you’ve told me about yourself.” Maybe having a collar made for her was premature, considering how much he was keeping from her.

Della focused on cutting things out and stitching them together, and the guys settled in to wait. Banner was getting a kick out of pointing out the subtle and not-so-subtle kink renos that had been done, just in the living room, even though Ambrose spotted most of them before he said anything. When you were into kink, you never assumed the O-rings in someone else’s ceiling were for missing swag lamps or plant holders. Almost every piece of furniture had been adapted so restraints could be easily attached. Della was hard-core, and Ambrose felt like he’d been invited into the home of a kink Jedi.

“So when are you going to come clean with her?” Banner asked, grimacing. “You shouldn’t offer her a collar until you two have that conversation.”