"Shut it, Rhys," I snapped. "You know damn well why I broke things off. So do us all a favor and back off."
He noticed the death grip I had on the wine bottle and caught the look in my eyes—the same look that said I wouldn't think twice about smashing it over his infuriating head again, just like last time.
Rhys froze. The look on his face was absolutely priceless. It was like I'd just walked up and slapped him with a frozen salmon.
He simply couldn't process the fact that I was no longer the starry-eyed doormat who used to treat his words like gospel. He was probably still reeling from the time I'd literally slapped him during our breakup.
Honestly, I didn't think his ego had recovered.
Before Rhys could open his mouth again, a manager in a suit so sharp it could've slice
