My world had narrowed to a single horrifying moment. I was still sprawled across Rhys's lap, desperately trying to blot the wine stain from his expensive shirt with a tiny napkin. The absurdity of the situation might have been comical if not for the deathly silence that had fallen over the VIP cabin, all eyes locked on us.
I dared to look up at Rhys's face. His expression was utterly cold, his dark eyes flat and unreadable as they bored into mine. Four years melted away in an instant, and I was suddenly that terrified eighteen-year-old girl again, waiting for the crushing blow of his rejection.
The blow came, but not in words.
In one violent motion, Rhys shoved me off his lap. Hard. The force sent me tumbling backward onto the unforgiving floor, my ankle twisting beneath me at an awkward angle. A sharp pain shot up my leg, making me gasp.
