Page 70 of Ryker

Tara’s question comes out of left field. It takes me a minute for my brain to make my mouth function while I drive us back to the Monarch. “He’s an old friend.”

“Like Dmitri?”

She’s too nosy. I hate it. Ignoring her prying questions, I focus on the road ahead of me. Not just the asphalt and red lights, but my future. I don’t have endless money. It took me years to build the Monarch and the cash I’ve set aside has now been wiped clean—thanks to the apartment building going up for sale, and the bid I put on this woman who drives me insane.

“If you need permits pulled fast, I know someone,” she says.

I’m not taking her bait. It’s a lie to get me to open up so she can learn shit about me. There’s no reason for that level of bonding between us. I’m her Dom. She can bond with my dick and aftercare. Not my future, and sure as shit, not my past. “He’ll handle it.”

Turning right, I step on the gas and weave through traffic. The sooner I’m back in my own space, the better.

“I didn’t realize there was a speakeasy in that club,” she says. “It’s leaps and bounds better underground than it is above. Why didn’t he renovate that first, then work on the basement as a bonus?”

Gritting my teeth, I don’t answer her.

“You know, if you—”

“Since you like using your mouth so much, how about I give it something more to do besides spew bullshit no one wants to hear, Butterfly?” My heart pounds in my chest and I feel sick talking to her like this. But I need to think, and she needs to shut up. I unbuckle my seatbelt and pull out my dick. “Stuff my cock in your mouth.”

“You’re joking.”

The hell I am. Swerving in and out of traffic, I’m only a couple blocks away from the club and she’s yet to follow my orders. “Butterfly, your defiance in the club is already going to cost you. Want to keep racking up the penalties?”

“Racking up the penalties?” She has the nerve to laugh. And I do mean this woman tips her head back and cackles. “This isn’t a hockey game. And if we’re racking up punishments, you’ll be getting your own fair share when we get back to the suite, Sir.”

My dick turns hard as iron.

I slam on the brakes before accidentally running a red light. We both pitch forward, and she yelps in surprise. But not me. I’m speechless. How the hell can this woman turn me upside down all the time?

Glowering at her, I can’t decide if I want to kiss her or kick her out of my fucking car. It pisses me off. And even though she has every right to say what she’s saying—because I’ll also admit I’m being a grade A asshole here—it makes me see red.

She’s not at all intimidated by me.

God, this woman has a spine made of steel.

Unfazed, Tara maintains eye contact with me while I’m mentally locking down my fortress and putting my temper back on a short leash. I have no right to speak to her the way I have. No right to treat her the way I have either. The Dom/sub dynamic was never to be taken outside of the Monarch. In Knox’s club, I humiliated her and made her serve us like she was there for our bidding, which isn’t true at all.

The crazy part is, I think she fucking liked it.

And damn me straight to hell, because so did I.

Tara’s right. If anyone deserves to be punished, it’s me for my repulsive behavior. I have no excuse for my actions. I can’t explain to her why I act certain ways sometimes. I can’t tell her that I’m almost positive Knox will lose his business and that it terrifies me. I can’t tell her that Greene Street is my undoing. And I definitely can’t tell her how jealous and possessive I felt when she crawled away to get us drinks and Knox gawked at her ass like he wanted a bite.

I brought her there because for her to come with me today, means I’ll get to go with her to something later. But I didn’t think Knox would disrespect her like that. I hope she didn’t hear him talk about her ass. Fuck, if she did, she might have also heard my threat to him afterwards, and that will only give her leverage over me later.

She’ll read into this. She’ll think I care about her more than I really do.

BEEP!

The car behind us honks, jarring me out of my thoughts. “Shit.” I step on the gas and bring my focus back to the road, where it belongs. Tara doesn’t say another word for the rest of the ride. And when I park, she’s out before I can get the car door for her. In fact, she marches to the back entrance of the Monarch and yanks that door open, too. Or tries, at least. “You need a key or a code,” I grumble, ashamed of myself. I pull a key card from my wallet and hand it to her. “Keep it.”

What the fuck am I doing giving her the keys to my kingdom like this?

Doesn’t matter. I’d rather she have a way in and out than be a prisoner here. Besides, it’s not forever, it’s just for now. “Don’t lose it.”

She looks like she wants to slap me.

I kind of hope she does.

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