“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.