Zeke hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering just above the handle of the bathroom door, as if he could feel the intensity of the moment on the other side. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. The air inside the bathroom was cool and sterile, a contrast to the heat radiating off his skin. His gaze swept the room until he found Eric standing by the sink, his shirt clinging to his chest as he tried to dab at the stain.
His movements were brisk, irritated, and his frustration was visible in the small space. The damp fabric clung to his torso, exposing more of his pale skin with each passing moment.
Zeke stood in the doorway. His eyes were locked onto Eric's back. His thoughts were dark and muddled, as he watched the way Eric's muscles tensed under the wet fabric.
Eric turned slightly, catching sight of Zeke in the mirror. His eyes narrowed and his irritation was clear on his face. "What?" he snapped, his voice sharp, but tinged with the discomfort of the situation.
Zeke's breath hitched. ''I'll get you a new shirt."
"I don't need a new shirt. Leave." Eric replied coldly.
But Zeke didn't move. Zeke's eyes traced the line of Eric's collarbone and then fixed on the damp shirt clinging to Eric's chest that was reflected in the mirror, on the pale skin that was so rarely exposed. There was something primal, something darkly compelling, in the sight that he couldn't tear himself away from. His palms itched with the urge to reach out, to touch the exposed skin, to feel the heat that radiated from Eric's body.
Eric turned back to attending the stain. The skin under his shirt was burning. The coffee left a lingering sting that made him wince with each touch. Eric felt a growing unease as Zeke's presence lingered. The cool detachment he tried to maintain was slipping, replaced by a subtle discomfort. Eric's patience was wearing thin.
Finally, he gave up, tossing the damp tissues into the trash with a muttered curse. He moved to leave, brushing past Zeke as he made his way to the door. Their bodies collided briefly and the contact sent a shock of electricity through Zeke's system. The warmth of Eric's body pressed against his own, just for a moment, but it was enough to leave Zeke's blood run cold. He felt a weird satisfaction at Eric's discomfort, and a strange, conflicting urge to touch the burn and feel it for himself.
Eric continued walking, not sparing Zeke a second glance as he exited the bathroom. Zeke remained in the doorway, his body tingling with the lingering sensation of Eric's touch.
He stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty doorway where Eric had disappeared. The sight of Eric's exposed skin, the way his face had flushed, the heat of their brief contact - it all left Zeke with a disturbing realization that he had enjoyed seeing Eric in pain in a way he hadn't expected even as he longed to experience that pain more intimately.
With a heavy sigh, Zeke ran a hand through his tousled black hair, his sharp blue eyes clouded with turmoil. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, noting the disheveled state of his appearance.
With one last look at his reflection, Zeke turned and left the bathroom.
Zeke's office was a space of calculated chaos. The warm afternoon sun filtered through the tinted windows, casting sharp shadows across the polished oak desk that dominated the room. Everything was in its place, an orderly façade that belied the restless mind of its occupant. Papers were stacked with precision, the sharp edges aligned perfectly, but Zeke couldn't focus. His thoughts were a tangled mess, all leading back to one person: Eric.
'Tomorrow is the beach party, and he's not going.' The idea echoed in Zeke's mind, a nagging thought that wouldn't let go. It wasn't the party that bothered him—it was the fact that Eric had found a way to escape. As usual, the infuriating bastard was too consumed by his work, hiding behind it like a shield to avoid anything remotely social. Zeke could see him now, tucked away in his office, probably drowning in files while the rest of them dealt with the mindless chatter of colleagues and the awkward small talk of old friends.
Zeke leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, frustration simmering beneath the surface. He knew Jade and Austin would be wrapped up in their own world, their newlywed bliss radiating off them like an obnoxious glow. Zeke had no interest in watching that, but the thought of Eric missing it—of him not being there, not being within reach—felt wrong. Unsettling, even.
'Why does it matter so much?' The question clawed at him, but he shoved it aside. What mattered was that Eric wasn't getting away with it. Not this time. Zeke wouldn't let him slip away so easily, wouldn't let him retreat into his work like he always did.
His gaze drifted to the phone on his desk. With a sudden surge of determination, he reached for it, dialing the reception. The phone rang twice before the familiar voice of the receptionist answered.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Ramirez. How can I assist you today?"
Zeke's voice was clipped, his words sharp with impatience. "I need details about the meeting of Mr. Yang that is scheduled for tomorrow. Who's it with?"
"One moment, sir," she replied, her tone professional, the faint sound of keys clicking in the background as she pulled up the schedule. "The meeting is with the Jonas Brothers, regarding their new residential project."
Zeke's lips curled into a slow, predatory smile. The Jonas Brothers were key players, and this meeting was crucial for securing the contract for their new venture's interior design. A contract Eric was banking on. It was exactly the leverage Zeke needed.
"Thank you," Zeke said, his tone laced with an edge of satisfaction. He didn't wait for a response before hanging up and dialing another number. His heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and something that thrilled him.
The phone barely rang twice before it was answered. "David speaking."
"David," Zeke leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I need you to do something for me."
There was a brief pause on the other end, the kind of pause that came from years of knowing exactly who Zeke was and what he was capable of. "What do you need, sir?"
"The meeting we have with the Jonas Brothers tomorrow," Zeke began, each word deliberate, "needs to be postponed until next week. There's been… a complication."
David didn't question the request, didn't ask for details. He simply responded with a calm, "Understood. I'll handle it and inform you once it's rescheduled."
"Good," Zeke said, his smile widening. "Let me know as soon as it's done."
He hung up the phone, a wave of excitement washing over him. The plan was set in motion, and all he had to do now was wait. The thought of Eric's reaction—of the frustration and anger that would ripple through him—brought a dark sense of joy to Zeke's heart.
It wasn't long before his phone buzzed with a message from David: 'Task complete. Meeting rescheduled for next Thursday.'
Zeke's eyes gleamed with malicious satisfaction. He slipped his phone into his pocket and strode out of his office, his movements purposeful, a sense of anticipation thrumming through him. As he made his way to Eric's office, he couldn't help but savor the moment. The thought of confronting Eric, of watching that carefully constructed world unravel just a little, was intoxicating.
Eric's office was a stark contrast to Zeke's. The dark mahogany furniture and shelves filled with neatly arranged books on business strategy exuded a sense of power and control. The large windows offered a panoramic view of the city, but the man behind the desk was oblivious to the beauty outside. Eric was deep into a thick file, his brow furrowed in concentration, the soft glow of the desk lamp highlighting the sharp lines of his face.
A knock at the door interrupted the silence. Eric didn't bother to look up. "Come in," he said, his tone clipped, efficient.
The door opened slowly, and Zeke stepped inside, his eyes immediately locking onto Eric's figure. The sight of him—so absorbed, so detached from everything around him—stoked the fire of Zeke's irritation. It wasn't just that Eric was too focused to notice him; it was the way he seemed to exist in a world of his own, where nothing and no one could touch him.
Zeke's lips curled into a smirk as he approached the desk, his footsteps silent on the plush carpet. Eric's eyes remained fixed on the file in front of him, his hand flipping the page with methodical precision.
"What do you want?" Eric's voice was cold, distant, a verbal wall erected between them.
Zeke's smile widened, though it didn't reach his eyes. He leaned casually against the edge of the desk, forcing Eric to acknowledge his presence. "Just checking in. Big meeting tomorrow, isn't it? Must be a lot of pressure, especially if you don't seal the deal."
Eric's hand paused, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on the edge of the page. Slowly, he lifted his gaze, meeting Zeke's with an icy stare. "I don't need your concern."
Zeke chuckled darkly, a sound that was more sinister than amused. "Don't you ever wonder what could go wrong?" He leaned in, his breath warm against Eric's neck, his voice dropping to a whisper. "What if… there's no meeting tomorrow?"
Eric's eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering across his features. He knew Zeke too well—knew that he didn't play games when it came to business. There was a seriousness in Zeke's tone, an edge that made Eric's stomach tighten. "And why would you think that?"
Zeke's smile widened, his gaze intent. "Let's just say I have a feeling. Something tells me you might be in for a surprise."
Before he could respond, his phone rang, breaking the tense silence. Eric picked it up, his voice curt. "Yes?"
"Mr. Yang, I'm calling to inform you that your meeting with the Jonas Brothers has been rescheduled to next Thursday. Apparently, there was an issue on their end," the secretary reported, her voice steady, unaware of the storm brewing on Eric's end of the line.
Eric's jaw clenched, his grip on the phone tightening. He didn't need to look at Zeke to know that he was smiling with that smug, infuriating smile that made Eric want to wipe it off his face. "Understood," he said before hanging up.
Zeke's grin was practically predatory as he straightened up, his eyes glinting with a mix of satisfaction and something darker. He approached Eric, deliberately moving closer. His fingers reached for Eric's tie, adjusting it with exaggerated slowness. As he did, his face was so close to Eric's that he could see his own reflection in Zeke's eyes - dark and unsettling. The proximity made Zeke's pulse quicken, a strange sensation prickling at the edges of his consciousness.
His fingers brushed against Eric's collar with a mocking gentleness, their proximity felt almost intimate. "You know," Zeke said softly, his breath warm against Eric's ear, "it's a shame about the meeting. I was looking forward to seeing you in action."
Eric stiffened as he pushed Zeke's hand away. "I have work to do," he said.
Zeke pulled back a little though he was still in Eric's personal space. "Looks like your excuse is gone." Zeke said.
Eric's brows furrowed, his eyes hardening as he looked at Zeke, who was basking in his victory. Zeke's presence was suffocating.
Eric's eyes dropped back to the file, though the words blurred in front of him. The anger simmered beneath his calm exterior. He could feel Zeke's gaze on him, feel the satisfaction radiating off him, but Eric refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
Zeke stared at him for a long moment then he turned on his heel and walked towards the door.
As he exited, he glanced back at Eric with a satisfied smirk. "See you tomorrow," Zeke said, the words laced with venom. With that he was out of the office, the door closing with a soft click behind him.
Left alone, Eric's face remained an impassive mask, but the frustration of losing control was a gnawing presence beneath his calm exterior.
As he made his way down the corridor, a strange sense of contentment settled over Zeke, a twisted satisfaction that warmed him from the inside. The anticipation of what was to come the sight of Eric, forced to join them, forced to be part of something he clearly didn't want thrilled him. There was something about the thought of dragging Eric into his world, of pulling him down from that lofty perch, that made Zeke feel alive.
Whistling a low melody, Zeke walked down the corridor, his footsteps echoing off the walls. The anticipation of the chaos to come feeding a darker part of his psyche.