“You clearly don’t know who I am!”

I rush from the bedroom.

“Sir, you can’t just go in.”

“Let him in,” I say, swinging the door open. Nick is red faced and huffing. I hope he has his inhaler.

“See?” he asks. “I told you. I have a key, Agent Asshole.”

I grab Nick by his arm and slam the door behind him. “I don’t need you to cause a scene. I have neighbors.”

“You have guard dogs too! Who the hell are those—” Nick pauses, looking over my shoulder. “Well, you two move rather quickly.”

I hold an arm up. “Parker, meet my manager, Nick Gold. Nick, Parker Montgomery… my fiancée.” I won’t lie. The way that word tastes on the tip of my tongue makes me kind of giddy.

Moving to her side, I drape an arm across her shoulders. She stiffens slightly before holding her hand out. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Nick’s eyes bounce between Parker and me before he hesitantly shakes her hand.

What’s wrong with you? I mouth to him, wondering if there’s a no entry list I can add him to.

Parker tilts her face to me, unsure about the situation, as Nick glares at us.

“Maybe you and I should⁠—”

“Talk?” Nick laughs. “Now you want to talk, Fitzy?”

Parker slowly creeps a bit closer to me, and I get it. She has no clue who this guy is, with the weak handshake and rude attitude, who just frantically busted into my apartment. And that’s fine because, damn, I like that in a moment of hesitancy, she feels comforted by me.

“Fine, Fitzy”—Nick pauses—“and soon-to-be Mrs. Fitzy. Let’s talk. But you probably should’ve thought about doing that before you staged the great American fake out.”

* * *

I decide I’m going to give Nick five minutes. Not of talking. Of pacing back and forth on one side of the kitchen island while Parker and I sit on the barstools opposite him.

Parker only gives him ninety seconds.

“Listen.” She clears her throat. “This was my idea. I have a bit of a complicated family situation regarding my inheritance and I asked Fitz to help me.”

He leans forward, gripping the edges of the marble. “A complicated family situation?”

Parker straightens, tucking a shiny, chestnut lock of hair behind her ear. “I guess that’s putting it mildly.”

Nick flings his head to me, but I shrug. “At least she’s honest.”

“But,” she continues, reaching out and squeezing my forearm, “thanks to Fitz, I’m sorting things out. You see⁠—”

Nick holds his hands up. “I’d prefer if you didn’t share any details about your family that might land me in some sort of secret government prison. And I’d hope that you considered that for Fitz too. I get you might not be used to thinking about anyone but yourself since you’re a Montgomery⁠—"