Page 8 of Dark Seduction

“He sounds promising,” I reply instead. “A bike that rare wouldn’t be painted by just anyone. Not with the kind of price tag that comes with it.” This Mack fucker might be just what we need to get our customers back after Ronnie’s fuckups. Snagging him up could mean a huge pay day for all of us. “Think we have a snowball’s chance in hell of locking his ass down for the garage?”

Judge shrugs. “Guess we’ll see tomorrow. But that’s all I’ve got for today. Anything else needs to be brought to the table?” He scans the room.

The rest of the club sits back in their seats and no one utters a word. Then, he wraps his massive hand around the gavel in front of him and slams it down on the table, calling an end to the meeting.

As we all start to shuffle out of the room, Burnt sidles up beside me the second the room clears. “Can we talk?” His voice is barely a whisper over the loud ruckus of the rest of our club hitting the breakfast chow line.

I don’t bother glancing at him. We’d made an agreement last night to not talk about what had happened at Vanilla Villa the second we left.

“Nothing to talk about,” I reply. “Pact, remember?”

The reminder of our agreement stiffens his frame next to me. “Don’t you want to know who she was? I can’t get her or last night out of my head.” Neither can I, but I know the reality of the situation. This isn’t some meet cute in one of the books that Grace and Blair like to read. “Didn’t you feel it? She was fucking special.”

“It was a mistake taking you there,” I admit. It didn’t seem like it at the time, but I should have known better.

“The hell it was!” he snaps. “I want to go back.”

I turn, facing him, a twinge of anger flashing over my face before I can stop it. “Look, it was a great fucking time, but that’s all it was, Burnt. One night only. We blew off some steam. Don’t make this into something it’s not.”

Burnt rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I’m trying to do. You can’t tell me that you haven’t thought about her this morning. You nearly got caught doing it in front of Judge. What I’m poorly trying to say is that I think we should go back and find her.”

I raise a hand between us. “Let me stop you right there. Finding her isn’t going to happen, Burnt. Woman like that go to places like Vanilla Villa to either satisfy an itch they aren’t getting scratched at home or to blow off some steam. Tracking her down was never in the cards, man.”

His mouth dips into a deep frown. “It was your first time going to a place like that. It’s easy to catch feelings after having a good night there, but feelings don’t belong in a place like that. Believe me. Chalk it up to a good time and move on.”

“What if I can’t?” Burnt vows.

“Then you’re well and truly fucked, prospect, because chasing after something you can’t have will never work out in your favor. Trust me. Just move on.” I reach out and pat him on the shoulder. “Forgot about her. She’s long gone.”

Burnt’s scowl deepens. He’s a good guy. Mom bringing him back from the California chapter had been a good thing for him, and our club. He may not be that much younger than me but Burnt still has some growing up to do.

Maybe I do too though, because there's a part of me that wants to find her as well. But he and I differ in one way. I know when to walk away.

MACK

I revthe engine of my custom-painted vintage car as I speed toward the garage owned by the Black Hoods MC. The purr of the engine drowns out the memories that have been swirling in my head all morning. Those two men last night had taken up permanent residence in my head. What we’d shared was one of the most incredible experiences I’ve ever had. It's going to be hard to forget them, but I have to. I need to focus on this job interview; it's a huge opportunity.

The wind from the sunroof whips through my hair, offering some solace from the inner turmoil. I can't help but replay the scenes from last night in my mind—the caresses, the sparks, the undeniable chemistry. It's been an unbelievable night, no doubt about it. But it can't distract me from my goals.

As I pull into the garage's parking lot, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Focus, Mack," I mutter to myself. "You can't afford to get lost in the past."

I park my vintage car and remove my sunglasses, shaking off the lingering memories of the two men. They are distractions, and distractions won't help me secure this job. I need to be sharp, confident, and above all, determined.

As a woman, getting any traction in my field is nearly impossible. It’s like have a set of tits and a vagina makes you unworthy to hold a paint gun. But I can hold one just fine. I can hold one better than any man I know. I just have to prove it every single time I pick one up.

Determined to make this interview my bitch, I enter the garage, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. It's time to put last night behind me and focus on building my future. It’s time to prove myself to Judge, which is who I’m here to see. He’s the club president, so if I’m going to impress any one of the men here, it has to be him.

A bell rings overhead as I step through the door, and as I scan the room, I find him. The name Judge is stitched onto a patch over his chest, and on the opposite side is another patch declaring him as president. Holy hell. He’s tall and broad, and covered in tattoos. His beard is long and straight, and though he’s old enough to be my father, this man has aged like the finest wine. Are all bikers this fucking hot?

When his gaze falls on me, his eyes widen, and I can practically hear the gears turning in his head. He looks me up and down, clearly expecting someone else.

"Mack?" he asks, skepticism and worry dripping from his voice.

“That’s me.”

His brow creases in the center and I watch as he shakes his head slowly. "I thought you'd be a man."

I can't help but roll my eyes internally. Here we go again, another doubter who can't wrap their head around a woman doing custom paint jobs. It’s nothing new. I’m used to it by now, but that doesn’t make it any less discouraging.

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