On His Knees by Tabatha Kiss
Chapter 28
Seth
Cracking my knuckles. Scrolling social media. Taking pop shots at Jenna Abrams.
All bad habits that I can’t seem to break.
At least it’s over now. She made it clear that she doesn’t want me around anymore and that’s that. Not that I want to stick around — because I totally don’t — but it’s nice to be needed, and if Jenna doesn’t need me, then that’s that.
Now I’m just thinking in circles.
Besides, it’s not like I’m going back to the house tonight, anyway.
Tonight, I’m lodging in style.
I turn off the busy street and decrease my speed as I drive down the ramp into the employee parking garage beneath the Botsford Plaza Hotel. It’s faster than valet parking. And cheaper.
My fancy bitch will want room service.
A quick swipe of my employee keycard and I’m inside, driving straight toward the spots for interns nestled so far in the back it might as well be in a different zip code. I don’t mind it, though. It’s weird to think about, but every time I roll through this garage and I pass by the Rolls Royces and Maseratis of upper management, I feel giddy inside. Someday soon, that could be me.
No, that will be me.
I’m going to get my MBA in May and Drew and I are going to be one step closer to starting our business. Or… I hope we will.
No, think positive.
A year from now, two years from now, my life could be unrecognizable.
No, it will be unrecognizable.
I park my old truck with a smile, eagerly riding the high of it all the way up the lobby access elevator. My reflection gazes back at me from the walls, dressed to impress in a suit jacket and stunning scarlet tie. I give myself one last look over from head-to-toe.
Next stop, the bar.
I am Seth fucking Newbury.
I am Delta Xi elite.
I am a god amongst men.
I give myself a wink. Handsome son-of-a-bitch.
The elevator opens on a golden lobby. That’s the thing about Botsford Plazas. Everything is gold but for a guy like me with eyes like mine, that only plays to my advantage.
The black-haired girl in a blue blazer behind the front desk gives me a wave as I pass. Polly, another intern from my program at Chicago North. I bob my head in acknowledgment, prompting her to give me a friendly look up and down. She raises her hand, shifting it into a thumbs up as she nods her head with approval.
Ego... intensifying.
I continue forward through the lobby, taking a hard right turn near the entrance to enter the bar. It’s lively in here tonight, the tables packed to the brim with men and women dressed way nicer than I could ever afford to.
I pause in the entryway, my eyes tuned to a certain color frequency and nothing else.
Red. Red. Red.
Brunette, red dress. Back corner, but… she’s practically giving the guy in the booth beside her a lap dance.
Red-head by the billiards table. But she’s wearing navy blue. Couldn’t be my fancy girl.
Another flash of red tempts my peripheral vision as a group rises from a table near the bar. I grit my teeth, patiently waiting for them to gather their coats and piss off, each little shift of their bodies playing peek-a-boo with another piece of her.
Red dress. Bar stool.
Jackpot.
I beg to see more. Her back is to me. No visual on the face yet, but I like the rest of it. As I get closer, I make out a trim little waist and tight calves peeking out from beneath her cocktail dress. I ride her hips upward to a pair of tight, toned arms. Mid-length blonde hair. Make that reddish-blonde hair with... Wait. Wait.
Oh.
Oh, hell no.
Ego... slightlydiscouraged.
Nothing castrates a man quite like Jenna Abrams showing up where she doesn’t belong.
I grimace with annoyance as I step to the bar, scanning the crowd for another red dress and doing my best to ignore her. She is not ruining my night. No way.
What the hell is she doing here?
“What the hell are you doing here?”
I look at her a few feet away at the bar. She’s sneering in surprise, gawking at me with tepid rage twitching her forehead.
“Meeting my date,” I answer. “You?”
She eyes me like a detective mid-interrogation. “Same...”
I think to turn around and walk out of here. Maybe I can catch Ms. Fancy in the lobby before she hits the bar. Then again, it’s already nearly ten past nine now. Not late late, but still late thanks to Ms. Abrams here spending over an hour in the bathroom.
I exhale, my gaze drifting back to Jenna in her red dress. She’s still gawking at me, her little eyes squinting softly… at my red tie.
Her mouth opens, then quickly closes again.
I inhale sharply with some dumb comment primed and ready on my tongue, but I pause when Jenna snatches her cellphone off the bar and furiously taps with her thumbs.
My cellphone vibrates in my breast pocket.
My stomach twists.
My breath abandons me.
I slowly poke two fingers into my pocket and pull out my phone.
FanciB1tch69:Seth?
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.