Rex laughed under his breath. "Ohhh, but if I rember correctly," he began, tone wicked, "it was you who refused to admit defeat, asked for round two, and mounted—"
"Stop. Stop!" she yelped, mortified, and pounced on him, trying to smother his mouth with her hand. "Don’t say it!"
Rex let out a muffled laugh as she tackled him, her hair falling forward, wild and slightly tangled from the night. He caught her effortlessly, his hands slipping around her waist as he rolled them slightly so she was straddling him.
She was glaring at him, cheeks burning, her hand still over his mouth. But her flushed face, the tousled strands framing it, those slightly parted red lips—it was almost too much.
He reached up, cupped her face, and kissed her deeply.
Her eyes widened for a second, her hand frozen in place... but then slowly, her fingers slid away, and her lips softened against his. For a mont, everything else faded. Just warmth. Breath. A slow, consuming kiss.
And though his hands road her sides, fingers brushing bare skin, he didn’t push for more. He just held her close, kissed her like they had all the ti in the world, and let the mont stretch.
Suddenly, the phone rang again, still Monica’s. She opened her eyes mid-kiss, startled, and tried to pull away.
Riiing!
""Rex—wait...My phone," she mumbled against his lips, eyes narrowing in focus as the forgotten ringtone finally settled into silence.
You can check that later, we’re having a mont." he replied without even thinking, and pulled her in a kiss again.
His grip around her tightened, one arm curled firmly around her waist while the other hand wandered upward with increasing boldness, fingers tracing the delicate slope of her back before daring to brush the edge of her chest. Monica gasped, then glared at him through her flushed face, half scandalized, half breathless.
The phone rang out once more, paused... and then started again just as they finally broke apart for air.
She sucked in a deep, shaky breath like soone who’d just resurfaced after a long dive. Rex breathed too, though more steadily, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Monica shot him a mock glare, cheeks still tinged pink, then slowly slipped away from his hold.
She swiftly slipped from the bed, the sheet wrapped tightly around her like armor. This ti, she didn’t hesitate.
Watching her retreat, Rex smirked and leaned back on his elbows, eyes following her with lazy satisfaction. "What’s the point of hiding now? I’ve already seen everything there is to see."
She paused mid-step, throwing him a sharp glare over her shoulder. "And yet, you still talk like you haven’t learned when to shut up."
He chuckled, unbothered. "What can I say? I’m a slow learner. Maybe I need another lesson."
She scoffed and turned away, but the slight upward twitch of her lips betrayed her. With as much dignity as she could muster, she stepped down gracefully and made her way toward the ringing phone, which, for so reason, had ended up face-down on the carpet like a tossed-out distraction.
"You know," Rex called lazily from the bed, "that sheet’s not fooling anyone."
She shot him a sharp glare over her shoulder, half embarrassed, half annoyed, but said nothing.
She bent to pick it up, the sheet slipping slightly down her back. Her eyes flicked to the screen. A call from her agent.
And her "good sister," she thought dryly.
Her smile faded. The playful warmth drained from her features, replaced with sothing cooler, more distant. She stared at the screen for a mont, unmoving, then let out a quiet breath through her nose, steadying herself.
Seeing her mood shift so abruptly, Rex raised an eyebrow and sat up slightly, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced with sothing more attentive. "What’s wrong?"
Monica instinctively opened her mouth to say, "Nothing," out of habit—those well-worn words that always ca too easily when she didn’t want to open up.
But the word caught in her throat.
Because as her eyes dropped to the screen, and the na flashing there, she couldn’t help but rember everything from the night before.
The way he had stood beside her without hesitation,not just physically but emotionally shielding her from every uncomfortable gaze and unwanted toast. How he had taken in drink after drink in her place, after she couldn’t drink anymore, his face flushed but his eyes steady.
Even though it was clear that he was feeling very uncomfortable. He laughed and deflected awkward questions, taking the edge off tense conversations. How he didn’t flinch even when things got awkward—or dangerous.
How? How could he still choose to stand beside her?
Even knowing that the man targeting her was soone of massive influence, soone who could ruin careers with a single whisper and Rex had gone ahead and offended him without hesitation. For her sake. Just because he saw her being cornered, uncomfortable, vulnerable.
He didn’t owe her anything. They weren’t lovers then. He wasn’t her manager, or bodyguard, or friend of years.
And yet... he stood by her side.
Unlike her agent. Unlike the agency she’d poured her blood and sweat into. Day and night, without rest, she had worked: sacrificing sleep, relationships, even her health. And in the end, when it really mattered... they didn’t hesitate to sell her out. She wasn’t even worth a pause.
In this world, so selfish and cold, where people would sell even their closest kin for a handful of money or favors, finding soone like him, who acted without agenda or calculation...felt nothing short of rare.
She’d tried before. When that man had started chasing her, pressing closer with each day, she’d quietly reached out for help. She went to her so-called good friend, soone who always claid to have her back. She’d approached famous directors and well-connected producers, the ones who patted her head and called her "our Monica." At first, they’d reacted with outrage...righteous fury in their voices, swearing they’d protect her.
But the mont she told them the na... everything changed.
Their eyes faltered. Their voices lowered. And then ca the excuses...thin, obvious lies. So even stopped taking her calls altogether.
That’s when she finally understood.
That man’s power wasn’t just in his wealth, it was in his reach. His shadow ran deep through the industry.
So, she learned to avoid. To smile, to dodge, to disappear when necessary. And she made peace with the bitter truth: no one would help her. She was on her own.
Until last night.
When she was deceived into that party, and the mont she was most vulnerable, he walked in without hesitation, and stood between her and the swarm of vultures, pecking after her.
And then... everything else after.
She saw and understood it all.
And of course, all the shaful, breathless, beautiful things, too.
She felt the tension in her shoulders loosen just slightly. If there was one person she didn’t have to pretend with right now, it was him. Trust wasn’t sothing she gave easily, but maybe... this ti was different.
So instead of brushing it off, she took a breath, and said in a neutral tone, "My agent."
(End of Chapter)
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