“Hey!” Connor said. “What’s up?”

Sean could hear the surprise in his brother’s voice, but ignored it. “I’ve been thinking, and I’m going to take you up on that offer. To join your company.”

“That’s … great, man,” Connor said. “I mean, I’m really excited about it. What convinced you? It was that girl, wasn’t it? Harper.”

Sean stiffened. “No,” he said. “Actually, her and I haven’t talked about it at all since we had dinner.”

“Oh, well regardless it’s good to have you on board. I actually met with some investors earlier this week and things are moving right along. I could use you right now.”

“I have to give notice at the shop,” Sean said. “But … I’ll do it this week. Give me ‘til the end of the month. Does that work?”

“Sure,” Connor said. “Can you just shoot me over a bio when you get a chance? I need to add it to the business plans, website, all that.”

“Yeah, I’ll send it over,” Sean said.

He was filled with uncertainty when he hung up, but there was an edge of excitement, too. Sean looked around the tiny apartment. He’d never fully unpacked, and as much as he tried to lie to himself, this place had never felt like home. Maybe he should move. Hell, there was no way Connor would set up shop in L.A. proper. He’d probably scouted out some place in the suburbs. I could do the suburbs. Maybe, Sean thought.

Sean could almost feel the wheels of change turning, and in the middle of it all was Harper. No matter what happened, where he worked or where he lived, he knew he wanted her with him. Change can be good, right?

Soon enough, she’d surely ask about their relationship. He couldn’t blame her. Organically, he’d been sexually exclusive with her since the start. It was partly just circumstance—he just happened to not have a regular sex partner at the time. But Sean had to admit that it was mostly by choice. It was about time to put the official “monogamous” title on what they were. He’d known that for awhile, but all of these transitions sealed it.

“Dinner tonight?” he texted her.

“Sure.”

“Go all out,” he said. “I’m taking you somewhere nice.”

When Harper opened the door, he almost couldn’t speak. She was poured into a perfectly tailored red dress with a sweetheart neckline and gladiator gold heeled sandals.

“Sweetheart neckline for my sweetheart,” he said. “I approve.”

She blushed and took his arm.

The white-shirted waitstaff whipped out her chair. “How did you get a table at Repubique?” she asked. “And on a Friday?”

Sean shrugged. “You let me worry about that, sweetheart.”

She smiled at him. When the waiter asked about drinks, she looked at him, brow raised.

“You can have one,” he said. The waiter didn’t even blink.

“Gin martini, very dry with a twist,” she said.

“Very good. And you, sir?”

“A bottle of sparkling water,” Sean said.

As Harper pored over the menu, he tried to guess at what she’d order. The oysters, the grilled octopus salad—or maybe the diver scallops. “What sounds good?” he asked.

“You want to share oysters?” she asked.

“Maybe. What about entrees?”

“Uhm … I think the scallops. No grapes, though.”

He knew it. Her face looked thinner than usual, almost gaunt. When she smiled, there were more lines in her cheeks. Not enough fat to plump them.

“I’ll be ordering for both of us tonight,” he said.

She swallowed. “What … what do you have in mind?”

“For you, potato and leek beignet to start. Steak and fries for dinner.” He took a gamble on the steak. It was low-carb and all protein, but also high calorie. If she was doing what he suspected, it being paired with fries would put her over the edge.

He watched her eyes flutter, full of calculations and misgivings. “Okay,” she finally said.

Don’t push it too far, he thought to himself. One issue at a time.

“So,” he said as the beignets arrived. He’d ordered the oysters for himself. He watched as she stared at the oysters and picked at her beignets. Harper began to spread the starter around her plate. “Eat it, don’t play with it,” he said.

She took the smallest piece possible and slid it between her lips.

As she swallowed, he said, “I accepted the job with Connor today.”

“Really?” she said. Her eyes lit up and she speared another portion of beignet.

“Yeah. I figured it would be good. Besides, if it doesn’t work out, it’s not like it’s that tough to get another job in a shop.”

“Well. Good for you,” she said. The light in her eyes had faded. Why isn’t she more excited? She’d been the one to initially push after dinner.

Harper put down the fork. “You need to eat more than that,” he said. “You barely touched it.”

“I’m full,” she said sharply. “I don’t normally eat carbs.”

He was taken aback by the sharpness in her voice. “Okay, calm down,” he said.

She widened her eyes but didn’t say anything. Instead, she sipped on the martini with tiny slivers of ice that floated at the top.

The waiter arrived and whisked away the appetizers before Sean could protest. When their steaks arrived, pulled out the black box that had been tucked inside his jacket and held it on his lap. “Harper, I didn’t bring you here just because,” he said. “There’s a reason.”

“I knew it,” she said. She’d just scraped the butter from the steak and pushed it to the far side of the plate.

“You know?” he asked. Maybe they were more on the same page than he thought.

“You … you want to stop, right?” she asked. Harper rolled her eyes. “Break up, or whatever you want to call it.”

“What? No,” he said.

“No?” He saw the real Harper, the one that had been vacant from dinner simmer below the surface.

“No, I … I think we need to talk about where this is going, though. You’re beautiful, and intelligent—”

“This sounds like a breakup talk,” she said.

“Don’t interrupt me,” he said.

“Sorry, sir,” she said. Harper put down the knife.

“What I’m trying to say is … well, I think this says it better,” he said.

Sean put the box on the table and moved it towards her. Harper glanced from the box to his eyes, suspicious.

The thick black ribbon fell off with a single pull. He watched her mouth open as she lifted the delicate rose gold choker. “It’s … it’s beautiful,” she said. “But I don’t understand …”

“For you, I didn’t think a regular sub collar would be right.”

“A sub collar?”

“You know. Like the couple at Miss Mary’s, or at the rooftop viewing.”

“You mean, like with a leash?”

Sean laughed. “Traditionally, yes, a lot of people use a leash. It’s not really my thing, at least not in public.”

“Oh. So does this mean—”

“It’s my way of asking you to be my sub, exclusively. Monogamously.”

“Just I would be monogamous?” she asked. Harper ran a finger along the thin gold. “I mean, I am, already. But …”

“Both of us,” he said. “And, just for the record? I am, too. I have been since we met.”

She looked down at the collar, her brow furrowed.

“So, do you accept?”

“I … I don’t—I have to go.” She stood up suddenly, the largely untouched plate before her.

“Harper, what the hell? Where are you—”

“I have to go,” she repeated, and started briskly towards the door, collar in hand.

“Harper!” Sean started to get up, but instantly three waiters surrounded him.

“I’m sorry sir, but you can’t leave. Not until the check is paid.”

“Fuck off—”

“Are we going to have a problem?” One of the waiters was massive, at least six-foot-five. He looked more like a wrestler than a waiter

Sean sized them up and could see Harper had already exited out the front. There was no way he could take them all on. Rage boiled inside him, but there was a logical overlay that kept him in check. The last thing you need is to get arrested. Not now, not with everything else. Not with the new D.A. on the case …

“No,” Sean said coolly. “Just take the goddamned card.” He shoved a credit card into the waiter’s chest.

“Do you want me to box this to go—”

“Fucking run the card!” Sean said.

He paced back and forth while the fellow diners either stared agape at him or snuck glances between hushed conversations. Harper would be long gone by now, swept away in a taxi. If he knew her, and he thought he did, she wouldn’t go straight home either. She knew he’d follow her.

That’s the problem. I thought I knew her.

Sean looked towards the exit as the waiter slowly approached with the receipt in hand.

How in the hell had that conversation gone so off-course? He thought she would have been pleased.

He shook his head. Maybe I don’t know her after all.

“Sir, your box?” the waiter asked.

“I said I didn’t want—”

But when he turned around, the waiter held out the black box to him. The collar. If she was so upset about his proposal, why did she take the collar?

What the hell was she up to?