Andy leaned on the doorframe, watching her with open amusement and growing warmth as she padded barefoot across his living room again, fingers trailing lightly along the back of the couch, then over the bookshelves. She didn't ask questions, just tilted her head this way and that, absorbing.

  Then she turned and wandered back toward his bedroom. Specifically — his closet.

  Andy followed, curious. "You're casing the joint?"

  "I'm getting a feel for your ecosystem," Summer said, peering in at his hanging garments, her voice a little shy but teasing.

  Andy chuckled. "You say that like I'm a rare, fancy bird."

  "You are a fancy bird," she replied, tugging gently at a black silk shirt. "Do you wear this for, er, patrons or for fun?"

  "Both," he said. "Depends on who needs dazzling."

  She looked over her shoulder at him, eyes bright. "Do I count as needing dazzling?"

  He stepped closer. "Always. Though I think you like me best in nothing."

  Summer turned back to the closet to hide the blush, but he saw the smile she tried to suppress. "You have a lot of black," she said, half teasing, tugging at another shirt sleeve.

  "I'm a man of consistent taste."

  "And impeccable tailoring," she added, brushing a hand over a velvet blazer. "This looks expensive."

  "It was a gift from a patron who thought I should try jewel tones."

  Summer tilted her head, smiling. "You wore it, didn't you?"

  Andy smirked. "Of course. They were paying attention. I like being seen."

  She turned to look at him more fully, quiet now. "I see you," she said softly.

  His breath caught. He didn't speak. He just crossed the room and kissed her.

  After the kiss broke — reluctantly, slowly — Summer turned back to the closet. There was a low rod almost concealed behind long shirt-tails, and she crouched to look more closely. "Are these... corsets?" she asked, half in awe, half in disbelief.

  Andy leaned against the closet frame, watching her expression with a slow smile. "They are. Worn for patrons, events... and sometimes just because I like how they feel."

  She ran her hands over a matte black underbust style that looked wickedly severe, then a deep wine-coloured one with black lace detail. "They're beautiful," she said. She glanced back at him, colour rising in her cheeks. "You had one on the night we met. You wear these for... patrons?"

  "That one's for patrons. Sometimes I'm the dashing rogue, sometimes I'm the one helping someone feel like a dangerous fantasy." He took it from her gently, then ran his fingers along the boning. "I know how to lace them."

  Summer raised her eyebrows. "Do you?"

  "Mm-hmm." His tone dipped. "And how to get them off. Slowly. Carefully."

  She flushed, biting her lip. "That... is extremely unfair." She looked back at the row of them, fingers running lightly over silk and satin, leather and lace, boning and ribbon. "But you wear them too."

  "Some of them. Some I wear just for myself, or... to make an impression." He hesitated. "I like transformation. I like shape, posture. Control."

  Summer blinked at him, curious. "Does it hurt?"

  "No. It reminds me I have a body. That I can use it deliberately."

  She trailed a finger down the busk of a steel-boned corset. "Will you show me?" she asked, voice low.

  Andy's smile deepened. "Only if I get to lace you into one too. Fair's fair."

  Summer made a soft, surprised noise and looked back at the row of corsets, her cheeks still pink. "Me? I — I've never worn one. Not a real one, anyway."

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  Andy knelt beside her. "Then it's time. You'll love it. They're not just for show. They make you stand different. Feel different. Like every step is deliberate."

  She laughed nervously. "You say that like it's seductive."

  He leaned close, murmuring near her ear, "It is. There's power in choosing how to carry yourself. And you already have that quiet power, Summer. A corset just... sharpens the edge."

  She shivered. "Which one would you choose for me?"

  Andy brushed his fingers along the row of fabrics, then pulled out a pale silvery-blue satin overbust with floral embroidery and a delicate scalloped trim. "This one," he said. "Soft but precise. Strong stitching. It's not too flashy. But it holds."

  She looked at it like he'd handed her something sacred. "That's... beautiful."

  "I think you will be, in it."

  Summer touched the fabric again, then gave him a sidelong look. "Okay. Only if you wear one too. I want to see you... transformed."

  Andy's grin turned playful. "You're going to get spoiled, asking for things like that."

  "I think I already am," she said, quiet and warm. She traced the embroidery with a dreamy sort of attention. She wasn't looking at it anymore — her eyes had gone a little distant.

  He tilted his head. "What're you thinking, sweetheart?"

  She blinked, caught. "Just... I was picturing you in it."

  "Me?" His eyebrows rose, amused and intrigued. "That one? But it's so gentle. Soft. Are you trying to tame me already?"

  She gave a small, bashful shrug. "Not tame. You're always so... so striking. Dark and dramatic and glittering. I was imagining all that... all that sharp darkness hidden under something soft. You're all sharp lines and black ink, but this would make you look like a ghost prince. Pale and lovely and — elegant. Untouchable. Too pretty to be real."

  He tiled his head. "That's how you see me?"

  "I think you're already beautiful. But in this? You'd look... almost unearthly."

  "You're dangerous when you talk like that. You make me want to put it on just to see your face."

  Her flush deepened, but she didn't look away. "Would you wear it?"

  Andy laughed low in his throat. "You've got the poetry in you, Summer," he murmured. "But this one's for you. I can model later. Right now, I want to see how you feel in it."

  She bit her lip, unsure. "I don't know how to put it on?"

  "I'll help you," he said, helping her up. He turned her gently toward the mirror. "Lift your arms, take off your top."

  Summer obeyed, trying to slow her heartbeat. Andy slid the corset around her with the reverence of someone handling something precious — not the garment, her. He fastened the front busk with skilled fingers, then stepped behind her, starting on the laces. His voice dropped to a near whisper as he worked. "Tell me if it gets too tight."

  Each pull brought the corset snugger, lifting her posture. She stared at her reflection as it took shape — cinched waist, softly cradled bust, strands of hair falling loose around her face. When he finished, he placed his hands on her waist, admiring the new shape — the way she stood, the way the garment seemed to ask the world to take notice.

  Summer's breath caught as she saw their reflection — his dark figure behind her, his hands resting reverently on her waist, her body wrapped in satin and laces. The way the fabric hugged her, the curve of her waist, the line of her neck — she looked like someone from a dream. "Andy," she breathed. "That's... me?"

  "It is," Andy whispered, dipping his head. His lips found the line of her shoulder, soft and reverent. "It's you when you're wanted." A kiss on the slope of her throat. "When you're treasured." Another just beneath her ear. "When you let me see how beautiful you are. Look at you," he murmured. "Look at what you do to me."

  Her skin tingled where his mouth touched. She shivered and leaned back into him. "You shouldn't say things like that," she whispered. "You'll make me believe them."

  "I want you to," Andy said against her skin. "Every last word."

  She raised her eyes to his face in the mirror, watching as he kissed the hollow beneath her ear, his expression gone reverent and hungry at once. "This feels unreal," she murmured. "Like a dream I'd never let myself have."

  Andy met her gaze in the mirror, blue eyes soft but sure. "Then let's stay in it a while longer."

  His arms slid around her, one hand rising to rest just beneath her corseted ribs, the other curling over her collarbone. She could feel the steady beat of his heart against her spine, and the way his breath caught as he looked at her.

  "You're everything I wanted," he said softly, "before I knew what to want."

  Summer studied their reflection a little longer. "We look like Persephone and Hades," she murmured.

  Andy chuckled low in his throat, still kissing along her shoulder. "Persephone and Hades, huh? You think I'm the dark and brooding lord of the underworld?"

  She smiled. "Dark. Dramatic. Seductive. A little dangerous."

  He grinned against her neck. "Guilty. But then, does that make you the spring goddess who tames me?"

  She shook her head slowly. "No taming. I always believed Persephone chose Hades. Everyone talks like she was stolen, tricked. But... what if she went because she wanted to? What if she saw someone lonely and strange and powerful, and decided to love him? Not because he tricked her or trapped her. Because she saw him — really saw him — and stepped into the dark willingly, because it was him."

  He exhaled softly. "That's... a kinder version of the story than most."

  "It always made more sense to me that way," she said. "That it was her choice. That she made the darkness bloom."

  Andy kissed the side of her throat again, slower this time. "Then I hope I'm worthy of that kind of choosing."

  Summer turned in his arms, resting her hands on his chest. "You are," she said quietly. "I'm not some lost maiden being dragged away. I know where I'm going. I'm choosing you."

  Andy's heart beat louder in his ears. "Then I'll build you a kingdom worth ruling," he whispered, "and plant a garden that blooms even in shadow."

  Summer flushed. "That's not fair. You're too good with words."

  "I mean every one," he said, pulling her close. "So don't run back to the light just yet, my Persephone."

  "I wasn't planning to." She leaned up, brushing her lips to his. "I like this darkness. It's warm."