Page 7 of Ryker

A deal’s a deal, and this man better not back out of it, or I’ll take his ass to the cleaner and damn the consequences.

Chapter 3

Ryker

I’m fucked.

Storming back into my club, I weave through the tightly packed bodies and shove myself through the staff only doors to get to my office.

Tara. Fucking. Reed. Her name grinds my last nerve. I’m going to annihilate this woman by any means necessary for what she’s done. Not only did that woman screw me with that deal, she’s fucked my club out of making a lot of goddamn money tomorrow night.

And she’s pissed all over my integrity.

Okay, that last accusation may be more my fault than hers. I let my pride talk for my bank account tonight. I didn’t have to take the deal and could have walked away, refused to give her what she wanted. Instead, I shut my mouth and let her think she’s won.

And while her sweet ass glided down the stairwell and back to her car, I imagined everything I’ll make sure happens to her as the Butterfly. By the end of the month, she won’t be able to sit, walk, or crawl.

Which leads me to my biggest problem.

The Butterfly gets to choose who they want as their Dom. That means not only do I have to rig this auction for her to win, but I’ll have to coach whoever she chooses.

Or become her master myself. I shake the thought away before it turns into a full-blown temptation.

Too bad I’m not on the roster of available Doms.

She might have looked at me with those victorious Fuck Me blue eyes tonight, but the way she scuttled away from me suggests she’s terrified of our little deal.

As she should be.

Grabbing Dmitri by the shoulder, I guide him down the hall. “Change of plans.”

His stride matches mine effortlessly. “What’s the problem?”

“The ceremony needs to be rigged.”

He stops short. “That’s…”

“Against my rules. Yeah, I fucking know.” And I hate myself for doing it. “I need Tara Reed to be the Butterfly.”

Dmitri’s dark brow furrows. “You’re not serious.”

“It’s important.” My word is gold, and we made a deal. Tara’s right. My pockets are nowhere near as deep as Brisbane Realty and they’ve bought up so much property already, I’ll be damned if I lose this building to them.

The fuck are they going to do with it, anyway? Level it?

Jesus, what the hell am I going to do with it?

That’s a problem for another day, I remind myself.

“Do I even want to know what you did in the past…” Dmitri glances at his watch, then back to me. “Two fucking hours that’s turned you into a cheat?”

Getting called out by my best friend cuts deep.

“Tara Reed works for Brisbane Realty, and she tried to go after something I want.” It sounds pathetically childish even to my own ears. But my reasons for wanting that building are no one else’s business. “There’s got to be a way to manipulate this.” Because I don’t want to cheat.

My entire life, I’ve hustled, swindled, and done things most men wouldn’t want to do. I didn’t climb the ladder of success. I scraped, clawed, and fought my way to get where I am now.

Tara Reed just knocked me down a few notches, but it’s nothing I can’t come back from.

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