Page 15 of Dark Seduction

V proceeds to recount what happened, how Mack had stumbled and knocked him down in the process. He paints a picture of innocence, and despite my lingering doubts, his story makes sense.

The tension in the air begins to dissipate as I listen to him speak, and I know for sure that I had allowed my jealousy to cloud my judgment. Mack is nothing if not professional, and it didn't make sense for her to jeopardize her job for a fleeting moment of passion.

Finally, I nod. "All right, V. I hear you. I don’t like what I saw, but I hear you."

Relief washes over her face and he sighs heavily. " I don't want this to come between us, man. We’re brothers. We’re supposed to stick together, no matter what."

I meet his gaze, and I know he’s right. We may not be brothers by blood, but we’re Black Hoods. We’re a family. We can’t let jealousy and misunderstandings ruin that.

"You’re right," I reply, my voice firm.

V nods, his face growing more serious. "Here's what I suggest: neither of us pursue anything with Mack. We let this go, focus on our jobs, and forget about that night."

I mull over what he says. Forgetting about that night with him and Mack will probably never happen, but I’ve been shoving shit down deep inside for years. What’s one more thing to add to the mix.

I extend my hand to V, and he clasps it in a firm handshake, sealing our agreement. Our pact. No Mack for either of us. Ever.

"We're stronger without her, brother," V says, and I can't help but agree. Our friendship has weathered storms before, and it will weather this one too.

MACK

The sun shonethrough the windows of my apartment, casting a warm glow across my skin and filling me with hope. Today is my day off, and I desperately need it. The tension between Burnt and V has been building for weeks, threatening to tear the garage apart from the inside out, and I can't take it anymore. Everywhere I go, I can feel V's penetrating gaze following me around the shop. Every time I turn around, his eyes are there, boring into me like lasers. My skin prickles under his stare, and I have to fight to keep my composure.

As much as I’ve wanted to give in to the urges that pulsed beneath my skin whenever Burnt or V are around, I know I can't risk everything I've worked so hard for. My reputation in this industry is everything; it’s what has allowed me to rise to the top despite being a woman in a male-dominated field. Letting any hint of scandal sully that reputation would be too great a risk.

Sometimes, though, I wish I didn't have such a strong conscience. It would be so much easier if I could just let go and indulge in the wild passions that Burnt and V inspired within me.

But then my mind drifts back to Ryan, my ex who had hurt me so deeply that it took years to fully recover. Through all the pain and turmoil he caused, however, I learned an important lesson: You can only rely on yourself in this world. No one else will care for you as deeply as you can care for yourself.

And so I made a vow to never let anyone have power over me again. Not even two dangerously attractive men who send shivers down my spine whenever they are near.

That’s why the Villa had been so appealing at first. The chance to forget my troubles and just live in the moment, without fear of judgment or criticism. I didn’t anticipate that my last visit would be so different. Now, I am painfully aware of how powerless I am to influence the events unfolding around me. Lifting my gaze up toward the washroom mirror, I take a long look at my reflection. My unchanged eyes are surrounded by an ever-changing face — skin marked with colorful tattoos telling stories of my journey; long black hair that marks the freedom I've found since cutting ties to my old life. Even still, it's not enough to mask the pain in my heart—a remnant of days spent with Grandma Betty, who taught me lessons in strength and moxie even after she died a few years ago, leaving me on my own in this world. A single tear trickles down my cheek.

I squeeze my eyes shut and think of my grandmother. She had raised me alone, without much money or help. If she could do that, I could find a way through this mess.

Taking a deep breath, I reach out and twist the faucet knob. A spray of water hisses from the shower head and soon settles into a steady stream cascading down my body. I gasp as the cold water prickles my skin, sending goosebumps across my arms and legs. I stay under the spray even though I want to turn off the tap right away. Then, trying to salvage some warmth from the shower, I stretch up towards the shelf for a bottle of shampoo. In my haste, it slips out of my grasp, smashing against the faucet before tumbling onto the tub floor with a loud clang. The loud noise is followed by an even louder gush of water that began to flood out of the tap and fill up my bathtub with icy cold water. My eyes grow wide as realization sinks in. My clogged drain was preventing any more water from leaving the tub. "Shit! Shit! Shit!" I curse, desperately twisting the knob back and forth, yet still unable to cut off the flow. I had planned to pick up some clog remover at the store later. Too late now.

Bolting from the shower geyser, I grab my towel from the sink, wrapping it around my shivering body.

My mind whirls a thousand miles a second. What the hell do I do? The knob didn’t work. At this rate, I’ll be flooding the entire apartment if I can’t get it stopped.

Fuck, the water supply valve. Where the hell is it?

I search the bathroom, and find nothing. Panicking, I check under the kitchen sink and on top of the toilet tank. Nothing. Outside! I bolt for the door, not even caring that I am only wrapped in a scrap of a towel, but I still can’t find it. My hair drips cold water down my back as I traipse through my house looking one more time.

Grabbing my phone from the bedside table, I punch in Judge’s number and pray he answers. Three rings later, and his gruff voice comes through the receiver. Another long trip across the floorboards leads me to my front door where I pause, dripping wet and trying to catch my breath before leaning against it with my head bowed low.

"It's Mack," I say into the receiver, my words jumbling together. “The fucking shower faucet broke, and the entire bathroom is about to flood.”

“Woah, Mack. Slow down. I barely caught a word of that.”

“The shower faucet broke. Water is fucking everywhere, and I can’t find the shut off valve.”

“Shit,” Judge mutters. “Sit tight. I’ll have someone over there soon.”

Not wasting another second, I hang up and grab a nearby trash can from under the sink, then rush to the bathroom and start scooping water up by hand . At first when I flush water down the toilet, it goes a little too fast and almost makes it disappear altogether beneath spinning waterspouts of swirling brown liquid waste . After adjusting how quickly or slowly I dump each gallon of water into its bowl opposite mine , it empties completely until there is no more flow to be found anywhere else . Bailing isn’t going to work. The toilet just can’t keep up

The window! Striding across the room, I fling open the bathroom window and peer down. Despite being on the second floor, the space underneath me is not leased. No risk of drenching someone. Bucket after bucket, I heave water through the window until I hear a knock at the door.

---