by Tara Wyatt
Sebastian nodded slowly. If Lane saw him not as someone to be pitied, but as a peer who’d faced similar challenges, maybe he was okay with that. Maybe. “So what did you do?”
She shrugged again as though what she was saying were no big deal. “Got help. Went to some NA meetings. Went to therapy. Worked the steps in my own way. And I can’t say I remember revenge in there at all.”
“I’m not working the twelve steps because I’m not an addict.” And it was true. He wasn’t an alcoholic or dependent on drugs in the classic sense. If anything, his addiction was to risk and bad decisions. To things that made him feel alive until they made him feel like absolute shit. Things like gambling. He wasn’t addicted to a substance, but he was addicted to a behavior. A behavior he was a lot more likely to engage in with a few drinks in him.
She cocked her head, studying him. “Maybe not. But there’s something there. Sometimes, I get this sense that you’re walking on eggshells, man. Like all it would take is a good breeze to blow you over.”
Her words hit home, and he returned his attention to the computer. “Kayla wrecked my life, Lane. I was barely keeping it together, and yeah, that’s my shit, but at least I had a job. And then I didn’t. I had nothing. And now I’m here.”
“And is here such a bad place to be? I mean, it seems like you’re doing really well. You look healthier than when you first got here, and as far as I can tell, you’re sober. You’re on a good path.”
He stared down at the papers, his mind swimming, and he didn’t know what to say. Sometimes, he had this sense that he didn’t know who he was anymore, or what he wanted, or where he was going. That he didn’t know what he wanted his life to be. A long time ago, before the injury, it had been so simple. So straightforward. Train like hell and go to the Olympics, maybe more than once. Hell, maybe win a medal. When that had vanished, he’d picked a new path, getting his MBA, just like his brother Max, getting a good job, setting up a life for himself.
But it hadn’t been enough. There’d always been something missing. And so he’d chased different things, looking for that missing puzzle piece. But he’d never found it. He’d only spiraled deeper and deeper into something he couldn’t seem to pull himself out of. Drinking too much. Gambling. Fighting. Risk after risk, trying to feel something. Then feeling like shit when that risk didn’t pan out and chasing another just to try to fix it all.
“I’m sober,” he finally said. “And I’m in therapy.” It was the first time he’d admitted it to anyone, but he felt safe saying the words out loud to Lane. When she just stared at him, he forced himself to meet her eyes. “You have no idea what she did to me, Lane. She threw me under the bus when my world was crumbling, and now that she’s here, she’s trying to do it again. I can’t let her get away with it.”
“But dude, you know Patrick’s not gonna fire you because some random chick complains about you. That’s not how things work here. He’s got your back, and if he didn’t, you know that Bodhi and I would raise hell about it because we’ve got your back.”
He pushed a hand through his hair. “I know. I know. But I still can’t let her get away with it.”
“Why? What happens if you do nothing? What happens if she gets away with it?”
He opened and closed his mouth, waiting for the answer to that question to pop into his brain. Waiting for the perfect justification for the shit he was about to pull. When he couldn’t come up with anything, Lane smirked.
“I think this has a lot more do to with the woman herself than anything she’s done to you. Is this that blond chick? The one with the amazing ass and the…” She held her hands in front of her chest, squeezing the air.
“Yeah. The one in my group lesson yesterday. Kayla.” The two syllables of her name were bittersweet on his tongue.
Lane smiled as though she’d just figured out the meaning of life. “Sounds to me like she’s under your skin and that drives you insane. You love it and hate it at the same time, and you want more, so you’re going to fuck with her the way she fucked with you in your twisted little version of foreplay. Because really, deep down, you don’t want to get her fired. You just want to fuck her.”
He scoffed. “This is not foreplay. This is me giving her a taste of her own medicine.”
“This is you pulling pigtails on the playground because you want her to pay attention to you.”
He closed his eyes for a second, wondering if Lane was right. If all of this was driven by his need to have Kayla see him. To know what he’d felt when she’d humiliated him not once but twice. The way she’d sneered at him earlier replayed through his mind, her sexy voice telling him that she cared more about dust than she did about what he did with his life. Was that what this was really about?
He didn’t know. All he knew with any kind of clarity was that he needed to do this. He needed her to feel the way he’d felt. He needed to show her that he wasn’t someone she could toy with and survive unscathed.
“You don’t have to help me with this,” he finally said with a shrug, returning his attention to the computer screen. “I appreciate the advice, but I’m good.”
Lane rolled her eyes. “Okay, well. When this all blows up in your face, you know where to find me.”
She turned to go, but before she could leave, he called out. “Hey, wait.” Something on the original itinerary had caught his attention.
“Yeah?”
“Is there a sex shop in town?”
She stared at him with one eyebrow arched. “Is this for you or part of your plan? Not that I’m judging, I just…” She shook her head. “You know what? I don’t wanna know. And yeah, there’s one in town. Hanky Spanky.” Her cheeks turned pink and she shook her head. “And on that note, I’m out of here.”
She closed the door behind her with a quiet click, leaving Sebastian alone, surrounded by fresh itineraries. He skimmed through his handiwork, a satisfied grin on his face. He collected them all into a pile and slipped them into a large white envelope emblazoned with the Blizzard Ridge logo. Then he stole a Post-It from Patrick’s desk and stuck it to the front of the envelope, writing “New Silver Stream Itineraries – Distribute ASAP.”
He closed out of the file, not saving any of his changes, and then logged out of Patrick’s computer, his mind whirring. Once he’d dropped the itineraries off at the front desk to be distributed as everyone came in for lunch, he’d duck into town to do his errand. The prizes for tomorrow’s team building scavenger hunt were going to be very interesting. He wondered what the biggest dildo they had in stock was…
As he walked from Patrick’s office to the lobby, his stomach gave a little jolt, a small wave of anxiety cresting through him. Lane’s words from earlier echoed back through his mind. Which one of the twelve steps is revenge? Not that he was an addict working the program. Not that he wasn’t completely justified in what he was doing.
And yet, as he approached the front desk, his steps slowed, his limbs tingling, almost as if in warning. Once he did this, he couldn’t undo it. Did he really want to go through with it? Would it really make him feel better?
I don’t give a flying fuck what you do with your life, Sebastian. I don’t care where you work or how you spend your time. I could fit the amount I care about what you do onto a speck of dust.
Fuck it. She was going down.
He slid the envelope behind the front desk and walked away.
Kayla double checked that she’d saved her notes from the meeting and then closed her laptop, her stomach growling. She was ready to grab something to eat and then hopefully get some fresh air with the free time they’d all been allocated this afternoon. Her mind drifted back to yesterday and she found herself wondering if Sebastian was teaching another class this afternoon. Or if maybe he was putting on another demonstration. She couldn’t fathom how he got six feet of muscle to twist so gracefully in the air like that, but she wouldn’t mind seeing it again.
No. Scratch that. Maybe she’d try skiing instead.
&nb
sp; The others around the table—the marketing think tank she’d spent the past two hours with—started to gather up their things as well, chatting amongst each other, talking about lunch, about hitting the slopes, about how beautiful the resort was. A trickle of pride worked its way through her. The hiccup with Sebastian aside, the retreat was going well so far and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Well, except for Stammler. But hopefully Sebastian would at least stay out of his way for the next couple of days and everything would be fine. And then she could get back to New York, to her regular routine and her friends and far, far away from Sebastian and the confusing swirl of emotions he seemed to trigger in her every time she laid eyes on him.
She pushed open the meeting room door, her laptop bag slung over her shoulder, and was startled at the cacophony of voices coming from the lobby. She frowned, hurrying in that direction, then came to a screeching halt when she took in the scene before her. Dozens and dozens of Silver Stream employees milled about, comparing itineraries, talking loudly, looking confused. Looking stressed and frustrated. Looking very, very irritated.
What the hell was going on?
She fished her phone out of her bag and saw the dozens of messages waiting for her. She’d had it on silent during the meeting and hadn’t been aware of whatever the heck was going on. She scrolled through text after text with questions about room locations, presentation times, and more, and her heart picked up speed, thumping sickly against her ribs. Everyone had a copy of the itinerary and nothing had changed, so why was everyone so confused all of a sudden?
What had gone wrong?
As she moved further into the lobby, several heads swung in her direction and people began making a beeline for her.
“Kayla, I’m supposed to have a meeting with HR in room 224, but there is no room 224.”
“I thought I was giving a financial update this afternoon, but it seems my presentation’s been replaced with something called ‘Cannibalism and You.’ What the hell?”
“Kayla, why did you shift everything around? Now the main conference room is triple booked!”
“Are we really eating vegan hot dogs and cabbage stew for dinner?”
“What’s this note here about naked skiing? I didn’t sign up for that!”
She threw her hands up in the hair, sweat pricking along her hairline. “Everyone! Everyone, please, calm down. Could someone explain to me what this is all about?” Her legs felt weak as she struggled against the feeling of sheer overwhelm with everyone clamoring for answers.
Davis thrust the paper in his hands towards her. “This. The new itinerary you had waiting for everyone at the front desk.” He said it with a barely disguised sneer that was wholly inappropriate given that she was his boss. But she didn’t have time to deal with Davis and his quasi-insubordination right now.
She frowned, taking the paper with shaking fingers, her eyes scanning frantically down the page as she tried to figure out what was going on. “What the hell is this? Where did you get this?” she asked, confusion starting to give way to something else. Something that was creeping hotly down her spine, making the tips of her ears burn and her stomach twist. Suspicion.
Davis gestured behind him. “The front desk. We were told that you dropped off updated itineraries and were given one as we came in. But these…”
“Are not real.” She finished for him. “Excuse me.” She stepped away and then climbed onto a nearby chair, her fingers curling tightly around the paper in her hand. “Everyone! Please, there’s been some kind of mistake. Ignore these,” she called out, holding up the paper she’d gotten from Davis. “This is some kind of mistake or joke. Please disregard this information. Any changes to the planned events will be sent directly to your Silver Stream email account, not distributed via the front desk of the resort.”
But her announcement didn’t seem to be helping everyone to calm down as more people filtered in, clutching the itineraries, confusion and frustration written on their faces. With a sigh, she stepped down from the chair and almost stumbled as she did when she caught sight of Stammler glaring at her.
Great. Fucking great.
With a huff, she sat down in the chair, pulled out her phone again and quickly sent out a Microsoft Teams update to everyone to stick to the original schedule and to disregard anything they’d picked up from the front desk. She allowed herself a small smile as she heard everyone’s phones start to go off, a cascade of beeps and buzzes, and the lobby quieted as everyone read the message.
“What is the meaning of this, Kayla?” asked Stammler, moving toward her with one of the damn papers clutched in his meaty hand. “Is this some kind of joke?”
She took the paper from him and forced her face into a professional smile, fighting back the panic and the anger warring for space inside her. “I can assure you, I had nothing to do with this. The original schedule remains unchanged, and I’ve let everyone know that. Everything’s fine.”
“Fine? Just look at this!” He jabbed at the paper in her hand and she looked at it again. Stammler’s was different than the one Davis had received. This one included a time slot for a seminar on pretending you have a big dick when you don’t, the art of ass kissing, and for dinner, the information simply said “EAT ME.”
“I’m so sorry about this, Mr. Stammler. I’ll meet with the resort management to ensure nothing like this happens again.”
“Who’s responsible for this?”
She opened her mouth to blame her number one suspect, Sebastian freaking Prescott, but then promptly snapped it shut. He’d asked her to make sure Sebastian stayed far away from this retreat. If Stammler found out she’d let this happen, he’d probably fire her on the spot.
“I don’t know. Maybe a disgruntled resort employee? But I can assure you, there will be no more problems with this event.”
“There better not be. I’m disappointed in you, Kayla. I expected much better than this juvenile shit. Even if you didn’t do this, this happened on your watch.” He shook his head and walked away, and she sank back into the chair, emotions churning through her. Panic faded into relief, embarrassment, suspicion over who’d done this, and worry that he wasn’t done yet.
Just then, she caught sight of the man she’d bet her left boob was responsible for this on the other side of the lobby, smirking at her. God, why did he have to look so goddamn sexy all the time? It made hating him a little bit harder. Not a lot, but a little bit. It was like trying to hate a puppy. A really sexy puppy. A sexy evil asshole puppy.
Grinding her teeth together, she pushed out of the chair and marched over to him as people started to filter out of the lobby, the crisis solved. Mostly.
“Nice,” she said, holding up the paper in her hand. “Very mature.” When he just grinned at her, she shook her head. “I hope you got it all out of your system.”
He arched an eyebrow and leaned in closer. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“So I assume you’re going to be teaching the seminar on pretending you have a big dick when you don’t?” Oh God, why was she talking about his dick? Why?
His smile broadened, his eyes going molten. “I’d be the wrong man to teach that seminar.”
Heat flashed through her. “Right. Because you can’t even bother to pretend.” But then her eyes, no longer under her control, flicked down, glancing between his legs.
And sure enough, there was the hint of an outline pressing against the front of his pants. An outline that made her think he wasn’t just bragging.
He bit his lip, drawing her gaze back to his stupidly sexy face. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself, honey.” And then he brushed by her, his shoulder glancing against hers and sending a little frisson of heat through her. He smelled good, like the outdoors with a hint of something warm and subtly spicy that she had a feeling was all him. “Good luck, Kayla,” he said over his shoulder. “You’re going to need it.”
7
When Sebastian had been up before dawn in the pa
st, it was usually because he’d never gone to sleep the night before. He used to stay up all night gambling, or fighting, or looking for something—anything—to take him out of his head, his decisions often fueled by too much Grey Goose and too little sleep. These days, when Sebastian was up before dawn, it was to do something peaceful yet rewarding, like snowboarding down the mountain as the sun came up. Or maybe going for a dawn hike through the pines, spotting squirrels and rabbits and birds as he crunched his way through the snow. He hoped that if he kept doing different things, making different choices that eventually, one day, he’d be different. Feel different. He wasn’t there yet, but he’d made some progress. Amazing what not binge drinking and getting proper sleep, food, and regular exercise could do for a man. Go figure.
This morning, though, was different. Yesterday’s little prank with the itinerary had gone well, but he wasn’t done yet. No, he was just getting started. The entire point of yesterday’s scheme had been to sow doubt in Stammler’s mind that Kayla was capable of doing the job he’d assigned to her, even though the more he thought about it, the more surprised he was that someone in Kayla’s position had been tasked with planning the event. He’d certainly never been asked to do anything like that, and if he had, he would’ve kicked it down to a team of underlings to handle.
Okay, so maybe he was the tiniest bit pissed at Stammler on Kayla’s behalf, but only the smallest possible amount. Like a speck of dust amount. Like the same amount she cared about what he did with his life. But he could see that she’d been put in an unfair situation and still be pissed at her. He could still want to take her down. That didn’t make him the world’s biggest asshole, did it?
Reply hazy, ask again later.
As he entered the resort’s conference center, he couldn’t help but replay how perfectly yesterday afternoon had gone. How perfectly pissed off and indignant Kayla had looked. And okay, maybe a little freaked out. But that was all part of the plan. This was what he wanted to do. This was what he needed. Getting Kayla fired in a little tit for tat action would bring him some closure. Somehow. Maybe.
