"Despite what you just saw, you should know that I don't date talent."
Lark was unmoved. It was how they all began, playing the abstinence card. And then, when they made their move, she was led to feel special that they made an exception for her. That was before they took a bite out of her.
"You have a lot of talent," Omar continued. "And I think you know it."
This talk was not going the way she'd expected. In fact, nothing about this man was as she'd expected. He kept surprising her at every turn. And he was spinning her around again.
"You've been overlooked and undervalued your entire career. Not any longer. We're going to make magic together, Ms. Voorheen. Although we should do something about that last name. It doesn't roll off the tongue."
"I'm not changing my last name." She shrugged. "Family pride."
Truth be told, her father went by a different stage name. Her sister was married with a new hyphenated name. The name didn’t truly have real significance to her. She just wanted to see if she could win a fight with this man on a low-level point of disagreement.
Omar nodded slowly. Then he shrugged. "Fine. I can live with that."
He reached his hand forward. Lark leaned back, assuming it was aiming for her breast. But it stopped short, aiming more to the right, near her heart. Oh, he certainly was a dangerous man.
She clasped her hand in his. His long fingers curled around hers, caging her in. She squeezed right back, hard and firm as her father had taught her. Omar gave her hand a shake that threatened to rattle loose her forearm from its socket.
"Did you see that?" he asked.
"See what?"
"Sparkles."
In the air between them, shimmering down onto the fleshy part of where their hands met were tiny twinkles of brilliance.
"Oh," she said. "Those are from my costume."
Omar was still holding her hand. But she was still holding his. Slowly, their fingers uncurled from each other.
Lark stood, brushing her costume off. More sparkles filled the air between them. She paid them no heed. On steady feet, she headed for the dressing room.
This was good. She had gotten everything she wanted, and she hadn't had to strike any wrists with her magic wand or toss a throwing dagger at private areas. It was the best business arrangement she'd ever had. Heck, it was the best relationship she'd ever been in. Now, she just had to keep her libido under control.
Chapter Three
Omar loved the finer things in life. He had expensive tastes but not caviar dreams. That particular delicacy was simply an appetizer.
Omar loved exclusive cars that swaggered down the street before he stepped out of the door. He sipped vintage wines that were older than some present-day countries. But mostly, he loved tailored clothes.
He was not an off-the-rack kind of man. His closet was filled with fabrics where each stitch was sewn together with only him in mind.
"You're going to need another fitting."
Omar took a slow and deep breath at those words. The breath was slow and careful because he'd had to take in a number of deep breaths the hour he'd been in the fitting room. Another swift inhale and he was likely to pass out.
"Have you stopped working out?" Leonidas Almeria, beloved King of Córdoba, Omar's most trusted and oldest friend, and the groomzilla from hell walked a circuit around Omar. The king's nose was scrunched in distaste. His gaze was narrowed in displeasure. "I could've sworn you were a bigger size?"
Omar counted to ten. Then to twenty. Right then, he wished he were a bridesmaid. He could hear the bride, Esme, and the girls giggling in the next room. Meanwhile, Omar, Prince Alexander, and Daniel, the Earl of Larida, were trapped with His Majestic Pain in the Derrière.
"Did you get the changes to the menu?" Leo directed this question to his brother.
"Yes, Leo." Alex's voice was dispassionate when he answered. His attention was focused on his phone screen.
Omar knew the man was unlikely to be scrolling the headlines or playing a game. A glance in the reflective mirror showed that Alex was indeed looking at pictures of exotic dishes. The prince had had an obsession with food since he'd learned to hold a knife and fork.
"Esme really likes apple pies, and I want her to have only the best."