Ambrose sighed and leaned his head back against the chair, which was one of the least comfortable versions of a chair he’d ever encountered. “Yes. I just left her place a little while ago.”

“It’s early. Why didn’t you stay? Did she kick you out?”

“No. We had amazing sex twice, then fell asleep, but then when we woke up I panicked and bolted.”

Konstantin snorted. “Smooth.”

“Fuck off,” Ambrose grumbled. “It’s not funny.”

“You’re damn right it’s funny. You knew I was going to laugh before you even walked in the door, so don’t be a whiny bitch. What happened?”

Ambrose groaned and tried not to think about the way Everly whimpered when he was deep inside her. “It’s complicated. The girls are all dressed up, so I assume you’re going out. Just never mind me, I’m going to go home and think.”

His friend twirled a pen between the fingers of one hand like he belonged in a circus act. Knowing he could do similar things with a knife made it sinister, but no less amazing. He’d tried to teach Ambrose, but he’d never gotten the knack.

“Do you seriously think I’m going to take my girls out to a club while you’ve got that look on your face? They can wait days, for all I care. They’ll take care of each other if I take too long with you.”

“It’s weird that they’ll sleep together even though they hate each other.”

“It’s not so much that they hate each other, they just both want to be my favorite.” He shrugged. “Even though they know I don’t pick favorites. When I’m not around they seem to like each other fine. But enough about my bits of fluff. Why did you run away? I thought you liked her.”

Fucked if he knew.

“I’m not sure. Something went wrong. We were in bed, goofing around, and the next thing I knew I was . . . I don’t know. I was looking at her and she was so hot and perfect and a complete goofball. I flipped out.”

Konstantin grunted. “Now I get it.” He put the pen down and steepled his fingers in front of his face.

“Do you? Well, I wish you’d explain it to me.”

“You like her too much. I think you’re over Shae, finally, but now you’re shutting people down before they get too close.” He cocked his head to the side, narrowing his dark eyes. “You know that’s why you used to fuck Banner’s exes, right? You thought they were safe because they were on the rebound, and you’d never get serious with a girl one of us had first.”

A pained noise escaped Ambrose, and he banged his forehead on Konstantin’s desk repeatedly. “You do realize I hate you?”

“You hate me most when you know I can see through your bullshit. You, my friend, spend a lot of time in denial.”

“Maybe. So what do I do now?”

“Well, you can either avoid her until she hates you, which is the safe and cowardly thing to do, or you can go apologize and see if you can turn it into a real relationship.” Kon smiled sympathetically, then got up and poured Ambrose a tumbler of something that was probably scotch. It smelled like paint thinner.

Ambrose took a sip. Tasted like paint thinner.

“You seem happy enough in your . . . relationships.” What did he call what Kon had anyway? “You keep them a few months and then give them the boot. You never have time to get attached.” He took another drink, wishing the fumes from it weren’t making his eyes water.

“Ah, but soon things will change. You and Banner need to throw me a party.”

“Why?”

“I’m getting engaged.”

“What?” Ambrose swung his head in the direction the girls had gone but they weren’t in view. “To which one?”

Konstantin smiled grimly. “Neither of those two.” He flicked a dismissive finger at the door. “They’re fun, but I don’t want to marry them. I don’t know who I’m marrying yet. You remember how my babushka has been sending me résumés for different girls, and making me visit there, that sort of thing?”

“Yes?”

“Banner’s wedding got me to thinking. We’re not getting any younger—if we don’t marry soon, many of the girls worth marrying will already be spoken for. I’ve decided to grant my grandmother’s dying wish and marry a girl from her village. I’ve told her to choose one for me.”

“What?” Ambrose realized his mouth was hanging open, and he closed it.

He shrugged. “One’s as good as another. It’s time I had a wife.”

Ambrose sat immobile, staring at his friend. This was crazy talk. The Konstantin he thought he knew would never settle down, let alone with some girl his grandmother chose. She didn’t know anything about his . . . proclivities, so how could she pick him a suitable wife?

“Most of the girls she favors are in school. I have about a year until I can send for one.”

“A year isn’t very long.” A thoughtful silence fell between them. Ambrose didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry to hear about your grandmother.”

“Oh, she’s not really dying. At least not anytime soon, I don’t think. She’s just melodramatic.” Konstantin drained the rest of his glass and set it aside. “So anyway, I need to make the most of my time until then.”

Ambrose ran a hand over his face. “You’re not going to keep a girl on the side or anything?”

Konstantin raised an eyebrow in disgust. “I would never disrespect my wife that way.”

“What if she’s vanilla?”

He shrugged. “Is anyone, really? I’ll lay my cards on the table with her when she arrives. If she can’t bring herself to like what I like, at least in part, I won’t marry her.”

Ambrose mulled over this turn of events. It was hard to picture any of them married—even Banner, but particularly Konstantin. Although Kon never stepped out on the women he was in a sexual relationship with, he got bored quickly and always wanted newer, shinier toys.

“Of course, you and Banner will have to stand up for me at the wedding, and promise not to frighten my new little wife.”

Ambrose was vaguely insulted. “I’m a gentleman.” Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true, but when it came to girls outside of a consensual D/s relationship he did his best to be the man his mother had raised him to be. Everly, though . . . Everly made it very hard to think like a gentleman.

The way she responded to him, the clever gleam in her eye, the curve of her hip—the way she sucked cock. Fuck. He shifted in his chair and realized Kon hadn’t missed a thing.

Konstantin’s smile was salacious. “So . . . when are you bringing Everly by for some fun?”

Territorial hackles rose, surprising even Ambrose. “If you ever so much as touch her, I’ll strangle you with your own intestines.”

His friend threw his head back and laughed. “A simple ‘never’ would have sufficed.” He got to his feet. “Interesting how you’ve only had her twice and you’re already acting like a jealous ass. Now get out. I have women to screw, and you need to make up your own mind.” He waved him away. “Talking to me isn’t going to fix what you did. Just make sure you don’t grovel. Masters who grovel give their power to their slaves. Not a good tone to set in a relationship.”

Sanctimonious ass.

Just because Konstantin liked his women completely submissive, didn’t mean every Master did.

Besides, he never groveled. Not even for someone like Everly.

“You need to give up on customizing cars and get a job writing an advice column.” Ambrose flipped him off grumpily and stomped down the hall and out the door.

He got into his car, then sat in Kon’s driveway until he was so cold he couldn’t feel his fingers.

Jackass. What the hell was he going to do?

It had only been a few hours, and he already ached to have her again.

*   *   *

It was cold out, but at least there was no wind. Floodlights cast a glare on the dark, mostly empty lot, but the Langly Shipping logo on the side of the new truck stood out even in the poor-quality light. He climbed up into the cab and looked around, pleased with how comfortable it was. The long-haul guys did better when their backs weren’t killing them.