Chapter 255 - 254: Stanton Greaves
As the music shifted into another waltz, Monica’s gaze drifted beyond Rex’s shoulder. Her smile wavered for just a fraction of a second, almost unnoticeably. "Tch... figures," she muttered under her breath.
Rex caught the subtle change in her expression. "What’s wrong?" he asked softly, still moving with her in rhythm.
She tilted her head ever so slightly toward a dark corner of the ballroom. "See that man over there? The one with the glass in his hand? His name is Stanton Greaves. He’s the one who’s been pursuing me like a rabid dog these past few weeks. I’ve turned him down more times than I can count, but he doesn’t seem to understand what ’no’ means. Excluding the minor pests, he’s the real problem." Her tone was calm, but there was an edge to it, a quiet frustration.
Rex followed her gaze and, for a moment, was genuinely stunned—not by admiration, but by sheer disbelief. The man in question was... well, Rex couldn’t find a nice word to describe him. His thinning, receding hairline glistened under the chandelier light, catching the light like a sad spotlight. The sheen on his receding hairline only added to the image of someone who thought money could substitute for charm. His skin was slick and shiny, almost greasy like it had been basted in oil, and his stomach bulged so badly that not even the expensive suit could hide it.
Rex blinked once, then twice, and finally muttered under his breath, "Seriously? How the hell does he even have the confidence to stand next to you, let alone pursue you?"
"He’s the definition of fat and ugly. Actually, calling him ugly might be doing a disservice to ugly people everywhere."
Monica’s lips curled into a soft laugh, the sound easing some of the tension in her shoulders. "I’ll take that as a compliment," she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
"I mean it," Rex said, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "If looks could kill, that guy’s face would’ve caused a mass exodus already."
He continued, with a small smirk. "I’m just saying, if that guy’s from one of those inbred old-money families, it explains a lot."
Monica stifled another laugh, but her hand tightened around his arm, a subtle sign of the unease she still felt. "You’re terrible," she whispered, though the corners of her lips curved upward despite herself.