Chapter Two

~Maria Pov~

Those words didn't register. "What?" I said.

"I hate repeating myself. Or do you need some help?" he said. I could hear the secretary's footsteps, and my hands found their way to my top.

"I can do it myself," I said. The secretary stopped walking as I took it off.

"Everything," he said. I paused to look at this man, who seemed uninterested in how slow I was. My trembling hands tried to cover my breasts as I took it down, then my bra, then my jeans, my underwear.

"What do you think?" he said, his eyes moving past me to the secretary.

"Should be believable enough," he continued, resting his chin on his arm.

"What is this supposed to mean?" I asked, hoping for some kind of explanation.

"If you're seeing anyone, it's in your best interest you end it," he said. "All I need from you is to act like you're madly in love with me."

Love? What was he talking about?

"We're going to be dating. Might as well make it worthwhile," he said.

If this were coming from anyone else's mouth, maybe I wouldn't feel so anxious.

"Any questions?" he asked.

I could still end this before it became something serious. I wasn't a slow person, but this made me feel dumb. I picked up my clothes to put them back on as he seemed done assessing me.

"No," I said. I'm a fool. No — I was desperate. Maybe if I did this, we could get our old life back.

"We'll keep in touch, then," the secretary said, handing me a business card. I took it, giving one last glance at the man, who was already focused on something else. I nodded and left the office.

I'd gone home after. The things going on in my head were fuzzy, but at least I didn't have work to worry about.

"He looks normal," I said, lying on my mattress, scrolling through videos, pictures, and news about the man I'd just met.

His name was Lewis, deeply tied to Halcyon Industries. From what I could tell, he wasn't related by blood — but news of him dating the family's only daughter had made him something of interest, with people calling him the best son-in-law the family could ask for.

You'd think someone of his status would have better things to do than sponsor actresses. I'm probably not the only one, I thought.

A young sponsor — he was three years older than me. He definitely wanted to keep this private.

I was wrong. It didn't take two days before he called me out, and I found myself standing in front of one of the best high-class restaurants in the country.

As I said before, it only took one year for me to stop fitting into places like this.

A hand landed on my waist, and turning toward it, I saw Lewis looking at me. He gave me a smile — I couldn't tell if I was imagining it, but it felt genuine, different from the way he'd looked at me before.

"Wasn't this supposed to be private?" I asked, my gaze dropping to his hand on my waist.

"I didn't say that," he said, gesturing me into the restaurant.

I didn't understand the motive behind any of this. Drawing the attention of the room came easily, of course. The food in front of me was something I hadn't eaten in a while.

Lewis began cutting the steak for me. Why would he? I thought.

"You don't like steak?" he asked, that smile still on his face. You'd think this was a real date.

"No, it's good," I said, forcing it down my throat without really chewing. I had to put on a smile too — the whispers around us hadn't stopped. He placed his hand over mine, and I flinched. It seemed to turn him off, and he withdrew it.

"Be quick. We're going somewhere after this," he said, and I kept swallowing the food in front of me.

It was late when the so-called date began, and it was no surprise we ended up headed to a hotel. It was one of the best in the country — my family once had ties here. Not that it mattered anymore.

After the door closed behind us and I stood still by it, he walked past me and picked out a cigarette. I didn't know hotels gave those out. He lit it, and the smoke made me cough. He looked at me for a while, sighed, then put it out — which I was grateful for.

"Let's just wait a while, and then we can leave," he said.

Maybe it was the hotel room, or maybe it was because I knew exactly what being an actress's sponsor usually meant — but what he'd just said didn't make sense.

Am I not supposed to satisfy him? I thought, looking at this man who, right now, didn't seem interested in me the way he had earlier.

"Are we not going to have sex?" I asked. His look seemed to question me.

"Why?" he said.

I would've thought this man had some other reason for what he was doing, but sex should've been the main goal — he had to have something for screwing over actresses.

"Isn't that why you're sponsoring me?" I said. I paused, and he seemed to be reading my expression. I didn't know what face I was making, but he should've.

"We have sex, and you give me roles," I said. He stood up, and the movement made me step back. He scoffed.

"Have you had sex before?" he asked — and it was the mocking edge in that question that made me blurt out the word.

"Yes," I said. He made a small sound, like he understood, and his footsteps carried him toward me until he was standing right in front of me. My breathing was louder now, though truthfully, I hadn't had sex before. It shouldn't matter.

"You don't expect me to take off your clothes, right?" he said.

I knew I could still walk away from this. My body knew I was digging myself deeper. But my brain only had one thing on it — the desperation to change things.

The sound of my unclasping button seemed to fill the quiet room. As I undressed, my eyes wavered toward the candlelight — so that's where the nice smell was coming from, I thought, as the last of my clothes hit the floor.

My hand found his tie, and I pulled it loose. Maybe I was slow unbuttoning his shirt, or maybe it was my shaking hands, but something made him speak.

"You can stop," he said.

I lifted my head, and my eyes met his. This man was handsome — his brown eyes were deep, his jaw clean enough that you could tell he kept himself neat, his lips thin. His build wasn't excessive, but he clearly worked out.

Would that be okay? I thought, my hands dropping from his shirt.

"I'm not really interested in having sex with someone who looks scared," he said. That was the expression I was wearing — it made sense now.

"I can do better next time," I said, my voice breaking. Pathetic, wasn't it? His silence made it feel like I'd definitely messed this up.

"If that's what you want," he said, picking up his phone as it began to ring.

"I need to go somewhere. You can rest here," he said, buttoning his shirt back up. The door opened, and he left.

I was cold — it had to be because I was still naked. My stomach began to churn, probably from forcing down my food earlier. I ran to the bathroom and threw up.