Acting The Part

Chapter 5: Megan

The night air was cool against my skin, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from my body. My hand was in his, and I could feel the strength in his grip—firm, but not forceful. The kind of grip that made me feel like he wasn't just leading me somewhere, but that he would keep me steady, even if I stumbled.

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way my heart raced in my chest. This was happening. I was doing this. It wasn't some desperate plan with a married man like Noah Rodriguez. This was different.

It wasn't about money anymore. At least, I kept telling myself that. This was about me, about finding some small piece of control in all the chaos of my life.

And maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the way he'd looked at me back in the bar—like he wanted me, like he needed me—but I felt a rush of excitement mixed with a strange kind of fear. I wasn't sure which was stronger.

We didn't speak as we walked toward his car. The silence between us wasn't awkward, but it was heavy. Loaded. My heels clicked against the sidewalk, and I couldn't help but glance up at him every few seconds.

He was gorgeous, that was obvious. But there was something else about him, something that pulled me in even before I'd had too much to drink. He had a quiet confidence, a presence that made it impossible to look away.

When we reached the sleek, black car parked at the curb, he opened the door for me, and I slid into the passenger seat. The leather was cool under my bare thighs, and as he closed the door behind me and walked around to the driver's side, I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

What was I doing?

I didn't know this man. I hadn't even asked for his name, and he hadn't asked for mine. But for some reason, none of that seemed to matter. What mattered was that I didn't have to go through with the plan I'd come here for.

I didn't have to give myself to Noah Rodriguez, and that was a relief so profound that it almost made me dizzy.

He slid into the driver's seat, his fingers brushing the steering wheel before turning the key. The engine purred to life, and I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.

For a moment, he didn't move. He just sat there, his hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead. I wondered if he was second-guessing this, too. But then he glanced over at me, and the tension in my chest tightened.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low, but steady.

I blinked, surprised at the question. Was I sure? No. I wasn't sure of anything anymore. But I nodded, because at that moment, I didn't want to think. I didn't want to worry about what was right or wrong. I just wanted to feel something other than fear and desperation.

He nodded, as if my silent answer was enough, and then we were driving. The city lights blurred past us, but I barely noticed. I was too focused on the man next to me and the way my body seemed to hum with anticipation.

It didn't take long to reach his place. A high-rise apartment building in the heart of the city, the kind of place you'd expect someone with his kind of presence to live. Modern, sleek, expensive.

He parked in the underground garage, and before I could even unbuckle my seatbelt, he was at my door, opening it for me again.

I stepped out, my legs feeling a little shaky, but his hand was there again, steadying me. The feel of his fingers against my skin sent a shiver up my spine, and I quickly looked away, afraid he'd see how nervous I was.

He led me to the elevator, and we rode up in silence. The tension between us was almost unbearable, the air thick with unspoken words and unacknowledged desires. I could feel my pulse quicken with every passing second, my body both nervous and aching for what was about to happen.