Nicholas couldn't sit still.
He'd already checked his watch for the fifth time in two minutes, pacing the length of the penthouse living room like a man waiting for news that might change the course of his entire life.
"Sir," his assistant offered gently, peeking around the corner, "she's still with the stylist team. They said they're almost done."
"I'm not nervous," Nicholas muttered, adjusting the cuff of his tuxedo jacket for no reason at all. "I just—don't like waiting."
The assistant wisely excused herself before he could ask her to check again.
