Page 17 of Ryker

Dmitri’s cocky smile vanishes. “What made you bid on her?”

I’ve never bid on a Butterfly before. Part of my reputation stems from the fact that I’m unavailable and untouchable. Why does it feel like everything I’ve built over the past five years is about to crumble like a house of cards?

“I have no fucking clue.” My chest hurts. It’s hard to breathe.

“Relax,” Dmitri says. “I’m sure we can fix all this.”

“I’m gonna need you to shut your fucking face.” I stand up and start pacing. “You made it so much worse pointing out that she could pick any Dom in the room.”

“I’m just adhering to the rules, boss.” I don’t appreciate the amusement in his tone.

Someone else clears their throat. Another shuffles their feet.

I feel like the butt end of a joke, and my anger comes to a rolling boil. “Everyone out!”

They leave without being told twice. Except for Dmitri. Stretching his massive arms across the back of the couch, he makes it clear he’s not going anywhere yet. “You pay me to keep my eyes on everyone in the club.”

I keep pacing.

“As part of my job, I also keep my eyes on you.”

I flick my gaze to him, then drop it back to the floor while I act like a caged tiger.

“The look on your face when you saw her spoke volumes, Ryker.”

“My expression was the same for every woman who came on the stage.”

“I’m not talking about the stage. I’m talking about when you’re in your office watching her from the security cameras. I’m talking about when you were in the changing room where they were doing hair and makeup.”

I stop short. Dmitri was watching us? It shouldn’t surprise me. “I didn’t look at her any differently than I do the others.”

“Yes, you fucking did.” He stands up and storms over to me, jabbing me in the chest with his finger. “You always have the same expression, Ryker. All business, all flirt, all bullshit. But with Tara?” He huffs a laugh and I want to punch him. “You looked at her like she was yours to play with.”

“Because I was playing with her.” Dmitri knew the plan. I was to go into the dressing room and make her jealous, make her feel insecure amidst her competition so she’d either walk out and forfeit her chance to be the Butterfly, or be bold enough to do something that would ultimately win her the title on her own. He and I worked all night on that strategy, damnit. “That was the plan!”

“The plan was to make her feel some kind of way.” He licks his lips and that smirk of his comes back. “Instead, it was you who felt something, Ryker. I saw it.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m your oldest friend. I know you better than anyone else here.”

“That doesn’t mean shit.”

“You want her,” he presses. “And so does the rest of the club.”

I know.

“You didn’t have to bid on her. She’d already won, man.”

I know.

“Swooping in at the last minute and upping the bid wasn’t necessary for her to become the Butterfly. It was only necessary for you to assert dominance.”

He’s right and I hate that he knows me this well. “Fuck.”

“You also did it because the thought of someone else not paying her worth wasn’t something you would tolerate.”

Double fuck.

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