8. Seth

SETH

I haven't paidattention during this meeting for one single second. In fact, haven't paid attention at work all week.

I sit back in my rolling chair at the head of the conference table, my feet propped up on the table edge, squeezing a stress ball in my hand. Being the owner of a tech company, I've always kept things rather relaxed. Casual dress, comfortable furniture, etiquette be damned. I save all the strait-laced behaviors for the Underground.

Today, though, I could use some of that discipline here at work to at least look like I'm engaged. No one wants a CEO off in la la land.

I can't help it, though. Can't control my own thoughts, can't whip them into submission.

My brain has been all Bridget all the time since our encounter at the wedding.

I almost kissed her. I almost fucked her.

She felt me.

And now that I know she wants me, every part of my body wants to be near her.

I'm dying inside. Betraying myself by keeping my distance.

Not a second goes by I'm not thinking of her.

I barely sleep. I can't eat. I'm in full body mourning for what I shouldn't have. Because no longer is there a wrought iron gate of "can't" in front of Bridget.

She moaned my name. She obeyed me.

I can have her. If I'm ready to break everything.

Someone's voice cuts through my aching thoughts. "What do you think, Seth?"

I raise my gaze to the presenter at the front of the room, one of the new recruits fresh out of MIT. Rodney.

He's helming the development of one of our new algorithmic products, trying to make it both marketable and user friendly.

I stare at him.

God, he's so young. Still splotchy with acne and hasn't quite nailed down his hygiene routine. The glare of the grease in his dark hair is nearly blinding.

"It's good."

Rodney smiles, eyes bright. "Really?"

Is he really asking me to double down? Fine. "Really."

Yeah, I haven't been listening, but I'm not about to admit that. And I'm also not going to dash his hopes in front of all these people. I'll take a look at the proposals later and make sure everything is above board.

I push myself up out of my seat before anyone can comment. "Let's table the rest of this to tomorrow's stand up. There's some things I have to get done before end of day."

"You got it," my assistant, Camilla, says. She's quick to type a memo to herself in the calendar, her wild curls falling over her face.

I can't manage a thank you, though my team deserves it, before I hurry out of the room to my corner office, shutting the door behind me and triple checking it's locked.

I lumber over to my lounge chair in the corner and sit with the heaviest sigh, as if I'm Atlas deciding to no longer hold up the sky.

Through the floor to ceiling windows, I get a fantastic view of Manhattan across the East River. As high up as we are, it's impossible to have any peeping tom neighbors.

Which is great for me. That way, no one can see the CEO of Firmament Industries unzip his pants and release himself into his hand to jack off for the umpteenth time this week. It's unceremonious and unfulfilling every time, but since the night of Sonia and Edwin's wedding, my cock has been half-hard. All the time.

Each time I jerk off to thoughts of Bridget, I think and pray it will be the last time. That I just have to get it out of my system.

And each time I'm disappointed when my cock deflates only to harden not half an hour later because I can't turn my thoughts away from her.

I shut my eyes tight. It doesn't feel good anymore. It's painful to touch myself to thoughts of her when I know I could have the real thing if our circumstances weren't so fucked.

I stroke myself to completion, coming sadly onto myself as usual. What a fucking waste of my virility.

Leaning back, I catch my breath which isn't nearly as labored as it would be if I was able to release the way I wanted to. Fucking Bridget. Dominating Bridget. Making Bridget come and using her for my purposes.

I shut my eyes, and I'm greeted with the image of her under me. The memory of her up against the door, pinned by my hips and my hands. Her heart pounding against my chest, want so clear I could smell it.

She was such a good girl for me. Just that minute against the door.

Tears sting at the back of my eyes. I don't cry and know I won't. It's been years.

Not since the day I lost my dad.

But to be threatened with tears is enough to show me that my want for Bridget might break me if I'm not careful.

Unless I completely abandoned my life…which I don't want to do.

I like my life. My work, my family, my friends.

Bridget.

I make a fist and smash it against my forehead. Breath growls in and out of me.

If something doesn't change, I'm going to break.

Which means I either break my world or it breaks me.

And for Bridget, I'm willing to burn it all down.

Jack holdsout the controller in my direction. "You want a turn?"

I shake my head. "I'm good, man."

He snorts. "Suit yourself."

It's guys night. A usual great distraction from any racing thoughts. But no dice. Bridget is still first and foremost on the brain.

But I'm okay with that now.

Because I have a plan. I just need to get Nate alone.

"Okay, another round?" Mason navigates the Call of Duty menu with his own controller.

"I'm down," Jack says.

Nate shakes his head. "I need a break."

My heart lurches in my chest.

Perfect.

Maybe I can lure him out of Jack's living room and into the kitchen for a chat.

Jack looks to Mason. "Tag team?"

Covering his mouth with his hand, Mason starts to laugh. "That doesn't mean what you think it does?"

Nate laughs too, causing Jack to roll his eyes.

"Oh, my god," Jack says. "You guys only have one thing on your mind, don't you?"

Nate shrugs. "Kind of."

Mason lifts his hand for a high five, which Nate reciprocates.

With an annoyed look in my direction, Jack sighs. "Do they annoy you like they annoy me?"

"No comment," I say. I'm not going to rain on Nate and Mason's parade. Their proposal went exactly to plan. Laney said yes and now they're engaged, date of the commitment ceremony to be determined.

Anyway, I don't care about whatever innuendos Nate and Mason make or really anything about anyone at all. I've got a one-track mind.

I get onto my feet. "Anyone want anything? I'm gonna grab another beer." I shake my empty bottle.

"Yes, please. Beer." Jack gets into a ready position as Mason starts the game.

"I second that," Mason adds.

I give Nate a look. You wouldn't know from the way he is snuggled up in the couch under a blanket that he's actually a buff surfer dude who most of the time can't be made to sit down. This is going to be harder than I thought. "Nate?" I prod.

"I'm good, man." His eyes stay glued to the screen.

I stand there and gnaw on my lip.

Fuck.

"Could you…"

Nate looks at me, obvious confusion on his face.

I groan to myself. "Could you come help me?"

Mason smirks, eyes on the game, fingers clicking on the controller. "You can't carry three beer bottles?"

I grunt. "Yes, I can carry three beer bottles."

"Okay, good. Because I'm super cozy." Nate buries himself under the big blanket.

I continue to stand there. I've never been good at asking for help.

Nate blinks. "You good?"

"Can you…" I gesture over my shoulder, at a loss. There's no getting around just asking the question. "Can you just come with me? I want to talk to you. In private."

Jack laughs. "You gonna talk shit about us?"

"Yeah, that's what I need to do," I say in a dry tone.

Nate groans and pushes the blanket off of himself. "Fiiiiiinnnne."

"Thank you." I jet out of the living room and into the hall. Thank god the kitchen is at the other end of Jack's Financial District apartment, so we won't be overheard.

Not that Mason and Jack seem to care since they're pinned on their tag team round of Call of Duty.

Nate's padding feet follow me, and I can't resist a small smile. Just a year ago, he was still learning to walk after his surfing accident. Now, he's the same old Nate.

Once I enter the darkened kitchen, I head right to the fridge for the beers.

"What's going on, man?" Nate prompts.

I throw him a fleeting glance, unable to hold eye contact. "Um. Well." I grab three beers, place them on the counter beside the fridge. "I have a question for you."

His eyebrows twist. "Okay."

I grab a bottle opener off the counter and pop the caps of the beers off.

Nate juts his head forward. "And your question is…?"

"Give me a second, I'm trying to get the nerve to ask." I huff.

"You're scaring me, Seth."

Yeah, I'm scaring myself too.

I take a swig from one of the open beer bottles. Wish it was something like whisky or tequila, the real liquid courage. "I need a favor."

Nate shakes his head, still confused. "I mean, anything. If I can. Anything."

I press my lips together, attempt to smile. I've got great friends. Great family. I'm not sure I deserve them when I'm willing to go so far to push the boundaries of my relationship with Bridget. "I need to rent out the Underground."

Nate's confusion breaks, and he smiles. "Oh! That's nothing. Of course. I mean, it'd be better to talk to Sonia about that, but–"

"She's on her honeymoon," I interrupt.

And she's Bridget's best friend. Don't want to cross the streams.

"Right, right…well, I'm sure we can make that happen for you. You want to throw a party or something?"

"No! Nothing–nothing like that," I say with more urgency than I mean to.

Nate's eyes widen. "Oh, okay."

Shit, this isn't going well. "I just…need it for myself."

"Kinky, but respect."

"And…" This is the big ask. "I need it in the next couple days."

Nate's eyebrows leap up. "You want to rent out the whole Underground in the next couple days?"

"Yep."

He shakes his head, searching for words. "That's not possible."

"That's why I'm asking you."

"But that would require disappointing a lot of the members and I mean, a turn around like that–"

I walk closer to my friend. "I'll pay double. Triple."

Nate backs away. "You're scaring me, Seth."

Am I? Is it the crazed look in my eye? The way I'm stalking toward him like an animal who hasn't eaten in days? Weeks?

"I'm desperate, Nate," I say, my voice higher-pitched than usual.

"What–why do you need it?"

I shake my head. "I can't tell you."

My friend runs a hand through his blond waves and squeezes his eyes shut. "Um…"

I need to make the deal as sweet as possible. "I don't need any of the subs. I don't need a mistress at the desk. I just need the Underground. All to myself. No distractions."

Nate scrubs a hand over his face. "That's a huge ask, Seth."

"I know it is. And I'll owe you. I promise, I'll–"

"Fine. I'll get it done."

I blink at him. "You will?"

He slides his hands into the pockets of his joggers, glancing over his shoulder down the hall. "If it wasn't for you, we probably wouldn't have worked things out with Laney."

I smile. I remember the phone call Mason made to me all those months ago when the three of them were vacationing together at the cabin upstate. How confused he was over his feelings for Laney and the lack of jealousy he had over her relationship with Nate. "I didn't do anything, Nate. Not really."

"Don't sell yourself short."

If it gets me what I want, fine, I won't. "You're right. I am the reason you three are together."

He laughs, head thrown back.

"And I helped with that amazing proposal."

"True, true."

"At this point, you should name your first-born son after me," I egg him on with humor.

Nate lifts a finger. "Now you're pushing it."

I laugh, then lock eyes with my friend. "So, we have a deal?"

Nate holds out his hand.

I take it and we shake.

"Deal," Nate replies.

Step one of my plan to burn down the world, complete.