Page 31 of Silent Night Temptation

“You know,” he says, his voice low, controlled, “you really are something in this industry, Marcus. People talk about you like you’re some kind of legend. The deals you’ve made and the loyalty you’ve built. It’s impressive.” He lets the complimenthang in the air. “And it was hard at first, competing with you. But then, I figured it out. Your Achilles’ heel. You can’t keep your head straight when you’re angry. You make mistakes. Whether its with business or changing fuses.”

The truth of his words seeps into me like ice. Everything he says is right. Every time I’ve lost to him, every single time, he’s found a way to provoke me. And each time, I fell for it, letting my rage cloud my judgment. I feel a sickening twist in my gut. He’s played me like a fool, and I walked right into it.

And then, Coco.

Her name comes to me like a beacon, cutting through the fog of anger and humiliation. Ethan’s manipulation has always been ruthless, but could he have gone even further? Could he have known that Coco was my daughter before they started seeing each other? Did he orchestrate their relationship as some twisted power play, to hurt me and drive me to the breaking point?

The thought tears through me, unbearable in its implications. I rise from my seat, my legs moving on their own accord as I cross the room in three quick strides. Ethan barely has time to react before I’m standing inches from him, my breath coming fast and furious.

“Coco,” I say, the name harsh and urgent on my tongue. “Are you with her just to get to me? Just so you can piss me off?”

His expression softens at my accusation. There’s a jot of something human there, something real, perhaps even hurt at the mere suggestion..

He doesn’t answer. But the silence, the insufferable silence, feels more damning than any words he could have spoken.

I take a step closer, until there’s nothing but air between us. My voice drops to a growl, low and menacing, barely restrained.

“Answer me.”

And then I see it, pure rage, a rage that mirrors mine clearly etched on his face. “How dare you?!” he barks. .

The dam I’ve been holding for so long shatters in an instant, my self-restraint vaporizing under the heat of my fury.

In an unthinking, wild frenzy, my hands seize his shirt, the fabric bunching in my fists as though by sheer force I could tear him apart. My knuckles fly before I even realize what I’m doing, and the punch lands full on his face, a crack reverberates through the room. Blood appears instantly, a crimson line blooming on his cheek where the skin has split. He staggers backward, but I’m not letting go. I grip his shirt, yanking him toward me even as his body tries to escape, his eyes wide with shock.

My arm draws back again, trembling with rage, ready to send another blow, but this time he’s faster. His hand shoots up, blocking my punch mid-air, and with a powerful shove, he throws me off him. The room spins as I hit the floor hard, pain ricocheting through my spine. But before I can catch my breath, Ethan is on top of me, fists flying. His punch connects with my nose, and the metallic taste of blood floods my mouth.

I can feel the heat rising in my chest. My vision narrows to nothing but him. I roll us over, using my momentum to flip him beneath me, and I let go. My fists slam into him with all the force of years of simmering frustration, every strike is a release of the pent-up fury I’ve swallowed for so long.This is for the senator.My fist connects with his jaw.For the deals you stole.Another blow lands on his cheek.For Coco.My knuckles collide with his mouth, and I see blood.

But I don’t stop.

I lose myself in the frenzy, fists flying with reckless abandon. I don’t see Ethan anymore, only the embodiment of every loss and every piece of ground I ceded to this man who has haunted myprofessional life for too long. Each punch feels like reclaiming something. Something lost or taken from me.

It isn’t until I feel the sudden, insistent pull of hands on my arms that I realize someone else is in the room. The fury still pulses hot in my veins, but I blink through the haze and see Coco’s face before me. Her eyes are wide and filled with panic and hurt.

“What the hell is going on?!” Her voice pierces through the madness like a shot through fog. She’s tugging at me, pulling me away. Her grip is firm but shaking. Nyree is there too, grabbing my other arm. Her face pale and her expression etched with fear. The fight drains out of me at once, leaving me hollow.

Ethan pushes himself to his feet, wiping his split lip with the back of his hand, blood smeared across his face. He spits to the side, red staining the floor, his breath ragged and heavy. For a moment, the room is silent except for the sound of our labored breathing. Ethan and I lock eyes, still brimming with raw animosity, our bodies taut as if we could explode back into violence at any moment. But something inside me has shifted. There’s no satisfaction, no triumph in landing those blows. Instead, there’s only a gnawing weight, a different kind of heaviness.

I turn to Coco, and the sight of her expression guts me. This isn’t the look of someone angry at a petty fight; it’s the look of someone who hoped and needed something better from me. Something I’ve failed to give. The disappointment in her eyes burns deeper than any punch I could have taken from Ethan. I want to say something, anything, but the words don’t come. I can’t bear to look at her any longer. The guilt twists like a knife in my chest, and I turn my face away.

“You’re bleeding… we need to take care of it,” Coco says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. She steps toward Ethan, grabbing his arm, and with a gentle firmness, leads himfrom the room. He lets her guide him, blood still dripping from his lip. His eyes are cast downward in a moment of silence.

At the door, Coco pauses, not looking at me. “Nyree, please take a look at my dad,” she says, her voice clipped, hard with disappointment. “He’s bleeding too.”

The door closes behind them, and the silence that follows is suffocating. Nyree stands by, her face stricken. I can’t tear my thoughts away from Coco’s face, from the weight of what I’ve done, and from the wreckage I’ve caused, wreckage that no amount of punches could ever fix.

Nyree approaches me cautiously, her steps soft and hesitant, as though she’s afraid her very presence might upset the delicate balance of emotions now thick in the room. The sight of her tugs at something deep in my chest, intensifying the gnawing feeling of regret growing inside me. She doesn’t deserve this, none of it. To be thrust into the storm of my anger, the wreckage of all this commotion. She has been my calm since we met, my steady, and now she’s caught in the aftershocks of a moment that should never have happened.

Her hand tugs gently at my arm, and I turn toward her, seeing her eyes filled with something unfamiliar. It seems like concern, but it’s something more. Hurt, maybe? I can't tell. “Come on,” she says softly, her voice gentle as if trying not to disturb the fragile tension between us. “Let’s take a look at your nose.”

I hadn’t even noticed the sting before now. But when I run my hand over the bridge of my nose, I feel the sharp pain bloom instantly. The warm blood smears across my fingers. Before I can react, Nyree takes my hand in hers, a soft, steadying gesture, guiding me toward the chair in the corner. She motions for me to sit, and I do, feeling the weight of everything settle into my bones as I lower myself down.

She leaves the room briefly, and I hear the sound of water running faintly in the distance. When she returns, she carriessome cotton and a damp cloth. For a while, we sit in silence, her movements soft and deliberate as she gently cleans the blood from my face. The cotton presses against the cuts, and the sting grounds me and pulls me out of the storm of rage and regret I’ve been lost in.

The silence between us grows heavier with every passing moment, and though she says nothing, I can feel the unspoken question hanging in the air between us. I glance up at her face, seeing a look in her eyes I’ve never seen before.

Disappointment? Fear? It’s a look that twists my gut, a look I never want to see again. I can feel the urge rise in me, a need to comfort her, to say something, anything that might make this better.

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