Chapter 2 Just play along.....

"Just play along," he said.

That was all it took.

Those three words wrapped around my spine like warm smoke and made my heart beat louder than the music blasting from the speakers.

His hand slid from my waist to the small of my back as he pulled me closer.

I barely knew this man, didn't even know his name, but for some reason... I felt safer with him than I had with people I'd known my whole life.

It should've terrified me. Instead, it thrilled me. We danced like we were the only two people in the room. His grip was confident, his touch firm, like he knew exactly how to hold me, how to move with me.

His eyes never left mine. He didn't smile, didn't flirt, didn't even speak. But the heat between us said more than words ever could. I'd come to the club to forget.

Now, I was forgetting everything. Cullman? Gone. The ring? Forgotten. My heartbreak? Buried under every brush of this stranger's body against mine.

"Come with me," he said, finally.

It wasn't a question. And I didn't hesitate. I followed him through the crowd, past the back hallway of the club, and out a side door that led to a sleek black car parked in a private alley.

The driver opened the door without a word. I didn't ask questions.

I didn't care.

I got in.

We didn't speak the whole ride. My legs bounced. I felt like I was on fire and freezing at the same time.

I kept glancing at him, hoping to read something from his expression, but he was stone-cold. Unreadable.

Like a shadow with a heartbeat. And yet... when his fingers brushed mine in the back seat, the contact was electric.

The car pulled up in front of a high-rise hotel. Not one of those regular city places-this one was fancy. Elegant. Private. He stepped out first, then reached back for my hand like it was natural.

Like we'd done this before. Inside, everything was quiet. Golden lighting.

Thick carpets. A private elevator that took us straight to the penthouse. The doors opened to a breathtaking suite.

Floor-to-ceiling windows, a skyline view, expensive everything.

I barely had time to take it in before he turned to me and finally said, "If you want to leave, do it now.

" I swallowed hard. My heart was thumping in my ears. "I don't want to leave."

His eyes darkened-like that was all he needed to hear.

He closed the distance between us in two strides, cupping the side of my face with one hand and sliding the other around my waist. And then his lips were on mine-strong, possessive, like he wanted to erase every man who had ever touched me before. I melted into him.

Clothes came off in a trail behind us, hitting the floor like the past we were both trying to forget. His touch wasn't just physical-it was consuming.

Like he needed to feel every inch of me, memorize every sound I made, leave his mark everywhere he could. I didn't hold back.

I didn't pretend. He didn't ask for permission, and I didn't need him to. The bed was a mess of tangled sheets, whispered moans, and the kind of heat that steals your breath and never gives it back. He took his time, like he had nowhere to be, like I was the only thing that mattered.

And for the first time in forever... I let go. I forgot everything except the way he moved, the way he whispered something in a language I didn't understand, the way he made me feel like I wasn't broken after all. When it was over, I lay beside him, my body sore, my mind spinning.

I turned to speak-to ask his name, to say thank you or what the hell just happened-but he was already asleep, chest rising and falling in that calm, steady rhythm of someone who never second-guesses anything.

So I just lay there, wide awake, watching the city lights outside the window and wondering what the hell I'd just done. Somewhere between my thoughts and the soft hum of silence, I drifted off too. When I woke up the next morning, the other side of the bed was cold.

I sat up slowly, blinking against the sunlight pouring in through the windows. He was gone.

I looked around, confused. The bathroom door was open.

No sound.

No sign of him.

No jacket over the chair.

No shoes at the door.

It was like he'd vanished. My heart sank. I didn't know why, but it did.

Maybe I expected at least a goodbye. A name. Something. Instead, I found a white envelope on the pillow next to mine.

My fingers trembled as I picked it up. Inside was a stack of cash.

Thick. Fresh bills. And a folded note. I unfolded it, expecting some apology or explanation.

But all it said was: "I'll be back." That was it. No name. No number. Just... I'll be back.

I stared at those words like they could answer all the questions clawing at my brain. Who the hell was he? Why did he leave money?

And what exactly did I'll be back mean? I pressed the note to my chest, suddenly aware of how fast my heart was beating again.

And for the first time in my life... I had no control. No answers. Just this strange feeling in my gut that my world had just shifted. And I had no idea what was coming next.