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“I think you should pick the one that catches your eye,” I tell her. “It's going to be around your neck after all.”
She studies the chokers for a few minutes before pointing at the one in the middle. Of course it has the most diamonds. “I like this one. It's bold but still elegant.”
“Excellent choice,” Daniel agrees, reappearing just in time to see what Margo has chosen. “That beauty is an astonishing ten carats.”
He hands me the choker so I can secure it on her neck. I'm quite sure the price tag will be monstrous.
“It's beautiful,” Margo admits as she admires its brilliance in the handheld mirror Daniel passed to her.
“It will have a beautiful price tag too,” I grumble as I remove the collar from her neck to be boxed up. Daniel leads us back out front.
The woman whose name I didn't bother getting when we arrived stands behind the register to finalize my purchase. She runs my platinum card for sixty-nine thousand dollars. How fitting.
“Lucky girl,” the saleswoman says as she winks in Margo’s direction.
“You have no idea” Margo laughs.
“Thank you for your business,” Daniel says, bowing slightly. I give him a slight chin lift.
“Let's go,” I say, taking Margo’s arm and leading her out of the store and back into the warm sunlight outside.
She looks up at me, her expression more serious now. “What exactly does this collar mean? You keep saying it shows ownership, but what does that entail?”
“The simplicity of it is as I've said before. It means you belong to me,” I say. “It's your version of a wedding ring.”
“Will you wear one too?”
“Fuck, no!” This ownership is not reciprocal.
“Well, without a collar, how will women know who you belong to?”
“Get in the car, Margo,” I instruct as I open the passenger car door for her. For fuck's sake, I liked it better before our truce. Not really, but she is way more enthusiastic about this whole ordeal than I am. I don’t need all the formalities of it all. “Your vanilla is showing.”
She visibly tenses up at the word vanilla. Her head drops, and she gets into the car without another word.
I take a few deep breaths and make my way to the driver's side door. I have never claimed anyone in an official capacity before. I like to fuck, explore kinks, and avoid anything resembling commitment. Persephone was the closest I've gotten to feeling anything for a woman outside of fucking.
“This is all fucking new for me too, and I'm not ready to dwell on it,” I finally say. “I don't do commitment.”
“You don't do a lot of things,” she mumbles.
As we drive through the city, she doesn't say much. She glances out the window, but I can only assume she is mulling over what exactly she is getting herself into. She’s already expressed that she loved me, and that’s weighing heavily on me too because I’ve yet to dissect my own feelings.
“Who is Margo?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“What?” She startles. “What do you mean?” Her gaze snaps to mine.
“Who are you at your core? You’ve been living in your sister’s shadow for a while now, but what do you value ... what defines you?”
She visibly relaxes, and her shoulders drop. “I don't know.”
“What do you mean that you don't know?”
“It means that my entire life, I was told what to value. I've never been allowed to just be.”
Her answer is disturbing. While I expect her to be submissive and obey, I'm not interested in being with a robot. “Okay, let me ask this a different way. What do you enjoy doing? If you had endless freedom and were not bound to me by duty, what would you be doing?”
“I've always been groomed to marry and serve my husband, so any personal ambitions were never an option, but if I could have studied anything, it would have been law.”
