"My agent," she said finally, her tone neutral but not cold.
Hearing that, Rex's expression shifted. The lazy charm fell away as a frown tugged at his brow. He leaned forward, no longer lounging carelessly.
"Her?" His voice was low, edged with steel.
Monica didn't answer right away, but the way her fingers tightened around the sheet told him enough.
Of course. Her agent.
He should've known.
The same woman who had smiled through her teeth while handing Monica over to that vulture. The same one who called it "just another party," who assured her it would be "good for exposure," while already pocketing favors behind her back.
If Rex hadn't been there last night… if he hadn't stepped in when he did—
His jaw clenched.
The consequences simmered behind his eyes. Unspoken. Unbearable.
Rex's voice dropped low. "You don't have to answer her."
