Nara’s POV
I slammed the door shut behind us with the kind of force that made the chandelier tremble. Not because I was angry—okay, fine, I was a little angry—but mostly because I needed something dramatic. If people weren’t going to take me seriously as Nick Gold’s wife, then by God, they were going to take me seriously as a woman who could close a door with flair.
Nick flopped onto the velvet couch like a dying prince in a Shakespeare play, one arm over his eyes, groaning like we’d just escaped from a battlefield instead of a swarm of paparazzi. “They nearly blinded me out there,” he said, voice muffled. “One of them had a flash so bright I think I saw my own soul.”
I ignored him. If I fed into his theatrics, we’d be here all night. Instead, I marched straight to the desk, dropped my
