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"I'm glad you admit it,” said Zhi. “Don't make me have to pull out the dueling swords."
"You'd fight for her honor?"
“Oh no,” Zhi raised his brows. “Not me. Spin."
Omar shuddered, the hair on the nape of his neck stiffened at the thought. When he'd first met the DJ, he'd been certain she could cut a man with that silent glare. When he'd seen DJ Spin perform, spinning disks, he often got the impression that she could easily transform into a ninja wielding vinyl throwing stars. He decided it was best to turn the tables on this conversation.
"Have you popped the question to the delectable DJ yet?" he asked.
Zhi leaned back in his seat, appearing entirely at ease with the direction of the new topic. "Not yet. Not during this circus, anyway. Spin deserves her own spotlight.”
They both gazed over at the happy couple. Cameras flashed as the royal couple held up the signed bill. Esme turned to Leo and gave him a peck on the cheek. The small sign of affection was innocent, but it wasn't the normal protocol. The press ate it up, and the bulbs went off like fireworks.
Omar was happy for his oldest friend. But he was also happy to have the spotlight off of him. Since Leo's engagement, followed by the prince's engagement, the cameras had blessedly been out of his face and his dating life. It was a rare breath of fresh air.
"So," Zhi continued. "Don't go proposing to Lark first."
It took a moment for Omar to get his tongue to work. "I'm not proposing to her. I’m not even dating her."
"I've seen the way you look at her."
Wow, was he that obvious? From the first hour that they'd spent together driving from the docks to House Mondego, Omar had tried not to stare. Apparently, he'd failed. Lark had captivated him from her sleight of hand to her infectious smile.
"I've also seen the way she looks at you."
That perked Omar up. "She’s been looking at me?”
Zhi turned a sly glance on Omar. If there had been any doubt before, the duke had his confirmation now.
It didn't matter. There wouldn't be anything between Omar and Lark. Except for one outing to the royal wedding. That was an arrangement of convenience, not a date. It was made only to get the sharks off both their backs.
Omar was Lark's boss. She was his employee. Neither wanted to go down the road of that tired trope.
Lark had real talent. She didn't need gossip sheets to give her career a boost. And Omar definitely didn't need to be featured in another spread.
Chapter Eight
“Oof.” Lark landed with a thud on the mattress beneath the stage’s trap door.
“Hey, where did she go?” call Blaze from above. “It’s so hard to find good help these days.”
Lark could vouch for that. Blaze had designs on being a magician someday, the star of his own show with his own magician’s assistant. Luckily, the kid had the chops … to be a magician. He was sorely lacking in the assistant division, which was his current area of employment.
Blaze had the stage presence and theatricality necessary for a showman. But he lacked the magical technique and attention to detail necessary in an assistant’s role.
The mattress she would disappear on was a few inches off center of its mark. It wasn’t enough to cause her injury. Not in this trick. But inches added up.
“We need to run that trick one more time," said Lark when she came back on stage.
Blaze startled as she came upon him. It wasn?
?t from the place she was supposed to reappear to complete the trick.
"Why?" he asked. “The disappearing act trick is in the bag."
The kid was young. But luckily the youth was malleable. He was learning what was traditionally women's work in the magic world. It was way harder than it appeared.
“You’re doing great on the misdirection and leading the attention away,” Lark said in a gentle tone of correction. “It’s the ditch, the disposal of the object—namely, me—that is a little wonky. We need to practice the trick until it’s second hat. We need to nail this preview."
