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Omar wanted to tell her not to worry about working. He wanted to tell her that he would take care of her. Yes, for the rest of her life.
But what kind of life would that be for a woman with magic in her blood? Already, much of her sparkle had gone out of her eyes. This had to be like watching a loved one die.
Finally, she lifted her gaze. "You're not gonna like what I have to say.”
"Lark, we can fight this." He was willing to drop to his knees and beg if he had to.
She came into his arms and rested her head against his chest. Omar’s arms clamped around her, determined she would never escape him, never escape them.
“The harder we fight,” she said into his chest, “the more they’ll come at us."
Us? She’d said us. “You're not giving up on us?”
She lifted her head, a frown marring her perfect brow. “No, I’m not giving up on us.”
Relief flooded him like a deluge of rain emptying from a storm cloud.
“But.” The way she punctuated the word sounded like a strike of lightning. “I am leaving you.”
Omar looked down at her. Her eyes were clear, focused, determined. His confusion cleared as realization dawned. "You mean your show. You’re leaving me as your producer.”
"Yes,” she confirmed. “I want us to be together as a couple. But not in business."
It shouldn’t have hurt. But it did. He got the girl, just not the magician.
"Everyone thinks we're using each other," Lark continued. "We know we're not, but it's going to impact both of our businesses. So, let's get out of business with each other.”
It made sense. It was the logical thing to do. He should’ve thought of it.
“I’m going to sign with Rancik Entertainment.”
Chapter Twenty
Her name was in lights. Large circular bulbs, shining neon bright in the early morning light of a new Córdovian day.
The buzzing was not only from the electric lights. There was a buzz all around her as she climbed out of Omar’s town car and headed into the Medieval Theater owned by Roberto Rancik.
Camera lights flashed all around them as Omar handed her out of the car. He kept her close, ignoring the flashes surrounding them and questions shouted at them. Lark didn’t try to leave his embrace. In his arms was the only calm place in the storm around them.
It had been a whirlwind the last couple of days of signing with Rancik and moving the production to his theater across town. But it was all working out.
The press was having a field day with the story of a female magician and her two producers. Some of the stories bordered on the salacious, printing stories of Lark dating both men. A few of them went the romantic route with Omar as the hero, giving up his love interest to protect his reputation. Only one paper posited that it was Lark who had done it all as a smart business decision.
Neither Lark nor Omar bothered to correct them. Rancik spent his time lauding that he had stolen Omar’s talent from him. Lark and Omar didn’t correct that either. They both knew the truth. There were bound to be compromises along the way. Besides, all the firestorm of reporting had led to sold out tickets for the next three weeks.
But the best part of the deal? There was no longer any hiding how she felt about Omar. She could hold his hand in public. She could go to dinner with him or a take in a show and not worry how it would impact her career. She had successfully separated the two, and now she had it all.
“Final rehearsal,” Omar said, pulling her in close. “Good luck today.”
He brought her in for a kiss. It was just a light brush of his lips against hers. He’d given her a hundred such kisses in the past week, but each time it made her heart skip a beat and flutter down back in place.
The cameras ate it up. Splashed across the papers and the entertainment news were dozens of snapshots of them kissing, gazing at each other. Whenever Lark looked at those pictures, she saw a woman in love. Whenever she was in Omar’s arms, she felt like a woman who had fallen.
Omar loosened his hold on her. Lark fought the urge to pull him back to her. She wanted to stay inside his embrace.
She'd seen the clouds move over his features when they’d pulled up outside the theater. But he'd held his tongue. Omar brushed a kiss across her knuckles, making her fingers tingle. Then he let her go and climbed inside the car. And then, with a wink, he was gone.
He never came inside the theater. She’d never asked him to. She knew this was hard for him. But not as hard as it was for her.
