Monica's elbow nudged his arm, snapping Rex out of his thoughts.
"What's got you thinking so hard?" she asked, tilting her head, her sharp eyes scanning his expression.
Rex blinked and shook his head with a small smirk. "Nothing. Just… people-watching."
She didn't press, but the knowing look she gave him said she didn't buy it.
The old man on stage finally wrapped up his speech and stepped down, leaving the ballroom with a handful of other wrinkled titans of Hollywood. Instantly, the atmosphere loosened, like someone had just removed an invisible chokehold from the room. Laughter and chatter swelled back to life, glasses clinked, and the air felt lighter.
And then, like sharks scenting blood, a flock of people closed in on them.
From that moment on, Rex was sucked straight into Monica's orbit. It was chaotic, overwhelming even, but Monica handled it with that perfectly rehearsed diva grace, smiling, laughing, exchanging polite greetings like she was born for this.
