Too Consumed (28 page)

Seth is jealous, commanding
, and a little too proud, but that’s okay with me. He’s only human, and being human means you’re vulnerable, that you have weaknesses and imperfections. That’s the beauty of it. Being human is about making mistakes and learning from them…or not, if you don’t want to. There’s too much pressure to be perfect these days, and guess what? People are imperfect. People are annoying, stupid, and rude at times, but it’s okay. It’s okay because ninety percent of the time it doesn’t affect you directly and it’s up to you to let it bother you and poison you
or
you can brush it off. I don’t know, maybe I’m just trying to defend Seth’s behavior—hell—maybe I’m trying to defend my own behavior. My decisions haven’t always been sound ones, but they are
my
decisions and I’m the only one that has to live with them, no one else.

Seth escorts me through some more double doors and into another function room. Huge round tables fill the room, decorated with red and white dressings topped with a gorgeous ice sculpture centered
in the middle. Forget the swan. These guys want boxing gloves and fists in the middle of their table to add elegance to their celebration.

We’re seated at
a table with people we don’t even know—well—people I don’t know. Seth seems to know everyone and has fought and beat at least three of the five fighters at our table. The coordinators of this event has split everyone up into their occupations—fighters with fighters, coaches with coaches—and so on. At our table, and directly across from us, sits wrestling world champion and Seth’s opponent, Junior Moset. Their relationship is a hell of a lot tamer than Seth and Don’s, and they even smile and throw jokes at each other when their conversations cross paths. No matter how friendly the conversation is, though, it’s clear both fighters think they’re going to win. Junior is a lot like Seth, size-wise, and it’s hard to believe someone his size can be so efficient on the floor. Regardless of his impressive background, Seth isn’t intimidated by him, and Junior isn’t intimidated by Seth’s outstanding undefeated history. It’ll make for an interesting fight, I’m sure.

Junior is handsome—light caramel skin and crazy-bright, golden honey eyes. He has a scruffy mop of chocolate hair
(two shades lighter than mine) that sticks up in an array of styled spikes. It suits him and his fun, confident personality.

“Seth, you do know Junior has defeated his last two opponents with a
standing
rear naked choke,” a guy I don’t know or recognize says, nudging Junior with his elbow.

I glance sideways at Seth, who shrugs and smiles. “I’m aware.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

Junior smirks, and rests his elbows on the table, chewing on a steamed bean. He enjoys tormenting Seth and I get it. He’s new, he hasn’t fought for his keep yet, but when they fight in two weeks, I know it’
s Seth who’ll come out on top. Seth knows it too, and that’s why he’s casually playing along with their games.

“Nothing bothers me.”

“There’s got to be something that bothers you,” Junior snickers. “Spiders bother me.”

Seth drops his fork
against his plate. “Okay, the anxious wait between fights bothers me. Not having sex for long periods of time bothers me, and knowing I’m going to knock you out in the first round and not give the spectators a good show bothers me.”

The table erupts with whistles and
‘burn’ remarks. I roll my eyes. I have no idea how I’ve put up with this for the last forty minutes and I don’t think I can take another second. The other girls that sit around the table with their fighters are enjoying the banter immensely, but I find it a pointless show of feathers. Every single man at this table thinks they are the ultimate ‘alpha male,’ which leads to some very loud, pointless conversations and challenges.

Seth l
eans into me, pulling me from my thoughts. “Lightning bothers me, too,” he whispers with a wink.

“Lightning? L
ike the stuff that comes from the clouds during a storm?”

He nods, pulling his glass of water to his lips and taking a sip. “I
t freaks me out,” he says when he lowers it again.

I watch him, my eyes as wide as saucers. How someone
his size is scared of anything, let alone lightning, is beyond me. I put my napkin to my mouth and conceal my laugh. Seth smiles back, pleased with himself for sharing this new piece of information with me.

“Spiders are pretty scary,” Seth tells Junior, returning
to the table conversation, “…to girls.”

I nudge Seth with my elbow and he laughs, picking at his fish with his fork. The table roars with laughter and Junior shrugs it off like it’s no big deal. He’s very humble, not caring what Seth says
to him, and I decide I like Junior, which will make watching Seth and Junior’s fight slightly more difficult.

“A girl?” Junior chuckles. “You shouldn’t have
labelled me as that, now it’s going to be a hell of a lot more embarrassing for you when I submit your ass.”

Seth opens his mouth to reply with another
undoubtedly rude, smart ass comment, but a male voice over the speakers stops him.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to our first offici
al MMAC dinner of this season.”

Applause erupts over the room and w
e twist in our chairs to the stage behind us. At the microphone is the CEO of the MMAC, Matthew Somers. Matthew seems like a good enough guy.

“This season will be a memorable one. In the break, we’
ve recruited a few new fighters—Darren Shane, Rashad Moens, Hayne Gains, and amateur champion, Seth Marc.”

The crowd goes for another round of applause and in the distance I hear whistling and whooping—a female voice that sounds an awful lot like Selena’s. I bite back a smile, assuming she
’s had a little too much wine.

“All of these new fighters will go up against our seasoned pros at one stage or another—the usual,
but
—”

The way he says it sets me on edg
e for some strange reason.

“This season, we’re going to do something we’ve never done before. We’re going to give an amateur a shot at joining the MMAC.” He raises a finger. “One shot. One fight. We’ve all seen the hype on the internet about Seth Marc. We all know what he’s capable of—wh
at he can bring to this sport.”

I look at Seth and h
is jaw clenches imperceptibly.

“In this room, we have
one
man capable of bringing the greatest rematch this sport has ever seen. You want to know how many views the amateur championship fight between Don Russell and Seth Marc got on the internet. Five hundred and fifty-seven
million.
”

Matt raises two fingers.
“Two weeks following his fight with Junior Moset, Mr. Seth Marc will be going up against a promising fighter at the Mandalay Bay Event Arena. One we pulled off the same streets as Seth—one who wants to be here just as badly as any of you.” Matt chuckles, smirking at Seth like the back-stabbing wolf he is. “One who hates Seth more than anyone else on the planet.”

My mouth drops, following the motions of my stomach. Surely he doesn’t mean—

“Don Russell.”

The room crackles with anticipation and enlivens wit
h chatter. I look sideways at Seth to gauge his reaction. His eyes are focused on Matt and his lips are held in a small smile. Watching him now, you’d think he isn’t the least bit phased by the announcement…but I know him and there’s no doubt that deep down he’s losing his mind.

“If Seth wins, Don Russell will never get a chance to join the MMAC. If Don wins, he gets a spot in the MMAC and a shot at the World Champion title like everyone else. Two weeks from now—Junior, try not to hurt him too bad. I need him.” Matthew laughs and puts the microphone back in its holder before
turning on his heel and strolling from the stage with a wide smile on his stupid face. What a snake. Matt made this announcement public, knowing Seth will never back down and risk humiliating himself. He knows Seth is stubborn and proud…he knows doing it this way Seth can’t say no. He manipulated Seth into the fight.

Seth turns back around
in his seat and pushes his plate of food to the side, resting his elbows on the table.

“Don Russell
,” Junior scoffs. “The guy is a joke. Why Matt wants him in the MMAC is beyond me. Fucking vermin.”

Half the
table mumbles their agreement.

“Can we go home?” I ask Seth, loud
enough for the table to hear.

I know he doesn’t want to be here, I can see it on his face—regardless of how hard he’s trying to hide it. Knowing him, he wouldn’t want to be seen as running from the dinner di
rectly after the announcement.

“Go home?”

I nod my head quickly, nudging him. He catches on, relief flooding his features.

“Beauty
sleep?” the strange guy next to me slurs. “You don’t need beauty sleep, baby.”

I laugh nervously, rising to my feet and pushing my chair back with my legs. I glance at Seth
, who’s watching the guy closely. I don’t need a drunk creep making Seth flip out right now. “Seth?”

He removes his attention from the guy who’s already shifted his interest back to his date. Seth nods his head, says his goodbyes to the rest of the table
, and I shoulder the blame for our sudden departure.

We stroll past table after table
, unable to avoid the congratulations on the rematch, and when the door is only a few feet away, Darryl and Jackson slip in front of us.

“Not now, Darryl
,” Seth growls through clenched teeth.

“I’ve called your lawyers
; they’re going to—”

Seth pushes past them, dragging me behind him. “Cancel them.”

“Cancel them?” Jackson questions. “Seth, you-”

Seth snaps around and I take a quick defensive step back—until my arm is straightened and straining at the elbow, but he doesn’t let me go. A few passersby move quickly away from the scene unfolding before them. “I can’t back out now. He announced it—in front of everyone. I will fucking destroy Don and everyone else the MMAC throws at me. Fuck them all.”

They exchange glances for a few seconds before Darryl retrieves his phone from his pocket and dials a number. Seth tugs me in close again, letting go of my hand and wrapping an arm around my waist. He pulls me away from Darryl and Jackson and we head outside.

We don’t say a word to each other, but he keeps me held firmly against his side up stairs,
through corridors and in elevators—all the way to the hotel room. He lets me go to unlock the door and he pushes it open. My heart hammers in my chest like a jackhammer to concrete and I’m scared to go inside and be alone with him. I don’t think I can handle another night like last night.

“Please go inside
,” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.

His voice
isn’t harsh or commanding—he seems sad—broken. I step inside and I don’t look back. I tap as fast as my heels will let me upstairs and into the shower. When I come out all fresh and revived, dressed in sweat pants and a tank top, I go back downstairs. The lights are dim and the bright neon of Vegas become obvious as they filter in through the large window. I hesitate on the last step when I see Seth sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. His back is to me—the depressions are darkened by shadows of absent light. Swallowing my uncertainty, I push off the last step and move to the couch Seth has dragged over to the window. As I draw nearer to him, my sight catches all of the droplets of water on the surface of his skin. He used the shower downstairs to avoid me and what I have to say about the rematch with Don. I’m not hurt. He needs space and I respect that.

Before I step around the arm of the couch, I hesitate
, and out of pure nervousness, I clear my throat. He lifts his head from his hands and looks over his shoulder at me.

“I can go
…” I mumble uneasily, shifting my weight.

Seth flicks his head, gesturing for me to join him and I can’t move
quick enough. He slides across the couch to make room and when I sit down, he grabs me, pulling me to him, and with a flick of his hips, he flips me, pressing my back firmly into the couch. He slides his body between my legs and my muscles tense as he drops a heavy portion of his weight on top of me. His full lips press against mine and they melt together in a slow rhythm. When he pulls back, I ask, “Are you mad?”

The bright pink
s and yellows outside reflect in his dark eyes. “Yes.”

“You can go to the
gym—you don’t have to stay with me.”

He shakes his head. “When I look back on the night I proposed to my wife, I don’t want to remember it like this. I want us to be happy and loving for now
…the rest can wait until tomorrow.”

I slide my fingers over his shoulders and down his arms, savoring the feel of his warm skin under my fingertips. As my hands come up his neck, I see my ring glisten in the light and my breath catches. How easy it is to forget how happy we were tonight before Matthew Somers and
the mention of Don Russell destroyed it. Seth asked me to marry him and I said yes…
I said yes
.