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over with," he growled. “And then I can sweep you off your feet where you belong.”
“Caveman,” she said.
He took a step toward her, invading her space like it was his due.
Lark held her ground.
“Cavemen were sheltered wimps hiding inside rocks,” Omar scoffed. “My people conquered the deserts.”
“You think I’ll fall into the stereotype of a white, western woman who’s set up to tame the barbaric, alpha-hole sultan?” She arched that mocking eyebrow that set him aflame with desire.
“You think I can be tamed?” He wiggled an amused eyebrow of his own.
Her lips twitched. Whether from amusement or desire, he was determined to find out.
A throat cleared off to the side of the stage. Marlena stood with her clipboard raised. Both of her brows were narrowed in disappointed slits. Her tone, when she spoke, was clipped. “We have a schedule to keep.”
Omar let out a haggard sigh. He stepped back from Lark with great reluctance and opened the curtain. For now, he’d share her with the world. But later, an abduction would be taking place with a certain magical woman.
He had plans for that evening. He’d take her to the Prince’s Pallet. They could go in the back and sit in the private room. He wanted to wine and dine her, soften her up with sweet treats. Then he’d take her back to his place … and show her a performance tape from a show he was considering.
More than anything, he wanted Lark’s opinion. He couldn't wait to hear what she thought of the dance troupe. And then, once he knew her thoughts, he’d kiss her senseless.
But first, they had to earn the good opinion of the entertainment reporters and critics. They walked out to the flashing of bulbs and shouts. The press didn't wait for Omar's prepared remarks. They asked the burning question.
"Any truth to the rumor about you two dating?"
"Ms. Voorheen and I have a working relationship," Omar started, the lie rolling smoothly off the tongue that had tasted Lark’s sweetness. "I have great respect for her unique talent and am excited to present it to the world."
"The two of you were seen in Rome last night."
"Business trip," said Omar.
"We understand she’ll be your date to the royal wedding this weekend.”
"No," said Lark.
All eyes, microphones, and pens turned to her.
"I'll be the Duchess of Mondego’s date to the wedding.”
Pens stopped waggling. Cameras shuttered dark. Mouths gaped askew.
"So, you and the Duchess are …?”
“Living together," Lark finished the sentence for the reporter.
In an instant, the flashes started up again. The pens scribbled furiously. A barrage of questions left the reporters’ mouths at this scandalous bit of news. Lark turned and whispered to Omar.
“First rule of magic? Distraction. It works every time."
She winked and then walked center stage to show them the vanishing trick she’d prepared. More than anything, Omar wanted this particular show and tell over so they could pull a disappearing act of their own.
Chapter Twelve
“Ever wish someone would disappear into thin air?” Lark asked, her gaze slid to the overzealous reporter who’d badgered her and Omar with questions about their personal lives and not the show.
The rest of the peanut gallery chuckled, having caught her side eye. Clearly, that particular reporter wasn’t well liked by his peers. Lark was excellent at getting people to like and trust her.
