The Marquis and the Magician's Assistant (The Rebel Royals 4)

Walking into the theater, she was confronted again with the very real understanding that she had made a mistake. An egregious mistake. A colossal mistake.

Lark sighed as she walked into her dressing room. She eyed her new costume with utter disdain. It was skintight, full of sequins and sparkles and strategic cutouts that left nothing to the imagination. It was one of the first changes Roberto Rancik had requested now that it was his show. There were bound to be compromises along the way.

Turning at the huff coming from her doorway, Lark saw that Blaze had fared no better.

"It's a speedo," said the fake magician.

It was indeed a speedo. But on the bright side, at least she wasn't the only one being objectified. But what could she do?

Switching producers at the last minute had been her idea. She had to see this, and all of Rancik’s changes, through. She just had to believe that the substance of her show would win the crowd over.

“I was thinking we should cut out the lecture bit about the history of magic at the top of the show,” said the producer in question.

He stood center stage as Lark and Blaze made their way out. Summer stood behind him. There was a scowl on her beautiful face. Lark couldn’t understand why the woman frowned. Wasn’t this what she’d wanted? To get Lark away from Omar?

"People aren’t coming for a history lesson,” Rancik was saying. “They’re coming to be entertained.”

"The history bit sets up a lot of the tricks in the second act," said Lark. “Losing it would cut the show down to forty-five minutes."

"Perfect timing," said Rancik. “We could double the number of daily shows and add a matinee."

Lark’s throat closed up. A show full of skin and no magical lectures. What had she done? Unfortunately, by the time she found her voice, Rancik was on the phone and exiting stage left.

"I told you," said Summer. “I told you Omar would tire of you, and you’d have to come crawling here."

"I didn't come crawling here,” said Lark. "Omar drove me over."

"He drove you?" asked Summer. Her pretty face was contorted in confusion, and then pity. "That's cruel."

"He's picking me up, too. We're still together. We decided to separate the business and the personal."

“There’s no such thing,” said Summer.

Lark was tired of this particular lecture. She signaled Blaze so that they could run through the show. She had to figure out how to make it work with this newest batch of changes. She couldn’t complain. This was what she’d asked for. There were bound to be some compromises.

Only, every time th

ey ran through each trick, the show seemed to get worse and more clunky. By quitting time, Lark was ready to curl into a ball and give up. But she couldn’t.

She stepped out of the barely-there cat suit. Washed the glitter off her face. And pulled on a smile.

Omar was waiting for her when she walked out of the theater. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him. He got off the phone when he saw her and opened his arms.

Lark tried not to cling and failed. Her fingers dug into his back. Her face burrowed into his chest.

"How did it go?" he asked.

"Fine," she lied. "Everything is great."

"Is that glitter on your hands?”

Lark brushed her hand on her jacket, but the sparkles didn’t fade. Omar let it drop. As always, he didn’t interfere with the show. He only sought ways to help her realize her dreams. Somehow, he knew that what she needed right now was to be inside his embrace.

He kissed her soundly. It was the fuel she needed. The reminder as to why she was doing this. She was going to have it all; the career and the man.

There would be some compromises along the way.

Chapter Twenty-One