Jimmy froze the moment he heard that.
For a split second, his brain seemed to short-circuit, unable to reconcile what he had just heard with reality.
Then his brows pulled together, confusion flickering across his face before morphing into disbelief.
“You’ve got the wrong person,” he said, letting out a nervous chuckle as if this were all some elaborate misunderstanding.
He gestured at Alexander and Mirena. “The ones who should be thrown out are them—Alexander Peirce and his little hoe who decided to stick her nose into my business.”
He pointed at himself dramatically, spreading his arms. “I mean, look at me. She poured wine all over me. I’m the victim here!”
The manager didn’t respond immediately.
Instead, he gave Jimmy a slow, assessing once-over. His gaze lingered
