Elara sat in her dressing room, staring at her reflection in the mirror. The makeup team had outdone themselves, transforming her into Evelyn Carter, the brilliant yet tormented journalist navigating the dangers of World War II. But no amount of period-accurate eyeliner or perfectly styled victory rolls could distract her from the irritation buzzing in the back of her mind.
Nicholas. That idiot Nicholas.
Her fingers drummed against the vanity table as her thoughts spiraled. She could still hear his ridiculous declaration to Amara, every word etched into her memory. How dare he try to worm his way into Amara's life? And right there in her office! Elara's jaw tightened, and she nearly knocked over a cup of tea a production assistant had left for her.
Focus, Elara. Evelyn doesn't care about Nicholas. She's too busy trying to avoid the Gestapo.
