Page 2 of Ryker

“I do.” My gaze sails across the four monitors until it lands on a particular room with a small group of voyeurs. There’s a blonde standing in the corner, closest to the door, watching a tied-up woman get fucked by two men on a bench in the middle of the room.

I’ve seen her here before—the watcher, I mean, not the threesome. She never takes part in the activities—because trust me, I’ve waited for it to happen. She reminds me of a Luna moth—graceful, ethereal, eye-catching, and doesn’t stay long. Whenever she’s here, she’s a distraction to me. I follow her from room to room on my surveillance feed, but she only ever seems to observe. I’ve never caught her talking to anyone, fucking anyone, and she’s never come to one of our BDSM classes.

“This woman…” I tap the screen. “You know anything about her other than what’s on her file?”

Dmitri casually leans over for a better look. Bracing his hands on my desk, his lips press in a tight line and his jaw ticks. After a few tense heartbeats, he stands straight again. “No.”

“Call Vault in here.”

Dmitri quietly talks in his discreet headset and Vault walks through my door a minute later.

That’s another thing I demand in my club—promptness and efficiency. Time is money.

“Do you know anything about her?” I tap the figure on the security monitor again.

Vault squints as he sifts through his mental filing cabinet. This man is a goddamn genius with a photographic memory. He sees it once, and it’s locked in his mind’s vault forever. Hence the nickname. He’s also the one who does all the monitoring of our members when they’re outside the club.

“Tara Reed. Age twenty-nine, Berkeley graduate, no known food allergies, enjoys baking shows and has both a praise and degradation kink.”

My guys are worth their weight in gold around here, but Vault isn’t telling me anything I haven’t already memorized from her membership application.

I study her posture. Tara stands stick straight in the back of the exhibition room, as if holding herself back from joining in. Or maybe she’s shocked by what she sees. Hard to say.

She looks like a little tart—sweet, decadent, and delicate.

Devour-able.

Leaning back in my chair, I steeple my fingers and continue staring at her. “Where does she work?”

“Not listed. And no socials either.”

She could be a socialite of some kind. It wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest.

“She’s pretty quiet and reserved when she’s here, which could suggest inexperience.” Vault walks back around to the other side of my desk. “Or maybe she just loves to watch and takes the ideas home and puts them to use there. Hard to say. I can run more checks online and see what I can dig up.”

For some disturbing reason, I don’t want Vault getting the privilege of hunting down the details of this woman’s life. “Don’t bother.” She’s not doing anything wrong. No need to waste time on her.

I’ve done enough of that already.

Switching topics, I tap my mouse and open another program. “Are we all set for the Butterfly Ceremony tomorrow night?”

Vault nods. “For sure.”

“How many are in the net?”

“Ten.”

I cock my brow. Ten is good. Not the most I’ve had, but more than last year’s selection. “Is her room ready?”

“Of course.” Vault’s grin makes him look like a wolf. “I’ve made sure all brackets, hooks, straps, and bolts are secure. Closets are filled, and the bath is stocked as well.”

“How many are on the bidding sheet?” I look at the spreadsheet I’ve pulled up, but Dmitri answers before I can scroll down for the number.

“One-hundred and two.”

I school my expression, hiding my shock. There are only two hundred members in my club, and most don’t visit my establishment more than a handful of times a year. Tomorrow night will be packed. “Are we prepared to entertain that many at once?”

“Absolutely.” Vault unwraps a lollipop and shoves it in his mouth. “I’m betting most of them will leave once the auction’s over with, though.”

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