Three, four, or five?
Emily had lost count as she grabbed another champagne flute from the passing waiter. It had been a long night. She was not just physically tired, but was mentally drained after playing the role of the lovely wife of the most beloved Hollywood golden boy, Nolan Maxwell.
Damn! It was tougher than the roles she had played on the big screen.
Acting without a script and a retake had certainly had her heart working overtime, dreading that she might say the wrong word or do something humiliating. It felt as if she had just run a marathon, dissipating her energy dry as she met with Nolan's friends, business associates, and, most especially, his parents.
It was certainly not a picnic, not when her husband's stepmother gave her a third-degree treatment. At least Victor, the Maxwell senior, appeared more civil as he welcomed her to the family.
