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te. He was off the market, had been for a while since Summer had pulled the curtains out from under him.
Omar saw no reason to date or even marry. Laws were being changed in the country which would free him from the burden of producing a male heir to pass his title onto. Once those laws were passed, and women could take on the titles and the responsibilities, Omar had every intention of abdicating.
His older sister was already performing all the responsibilities of the marquisate. Alana was far more interested in and far better at, noble affairs than Omar could or would ever be. She ran the family empire while he'd built his own in entertainment. If things went the way Omar expected they would go in the parliament, he expected he would live as a bachelor for the rest of his days.
Omar knocked on the door to the ladies' fitting room. The door opened, but he had to look way down until he met the gaze of the little girl standing guard in the doorway.
"Hi, Uncle Omar."
"Hello there, Princess Pea."
Omar reached down and lifted Penelope up into his arms. She was dressed in a light pink tool that fluttered as he spun her around. He didn't spin her as fast as he had in the past. The little princess was getting big.
"Don't tell me," came a voice from the interior. "He's being unbearable again."
Omar entered to see Esme standing on a platform. She was a vision in white. There were sparkles on the dress, making her twinkle like a star. But nothing outshined the look of love coming through her eyes and fairly oozing out of her pores. Leo was a lucky man.
“I can’t blame him,” said Omar. “He’s close to marrying the woman of his dreams. You are a dream come true, Esmeralda.”
Esme blushed, her red cheeks stark with all the white cloth. “Your dream girl is out there somewhere.”
“I can wait,” said Omar.
All around him, nobles were falling like flies. Leo was marrying Esme. Alex was engaged to Jan. And then there was Alex’s best friend, the Duke of Mondego. Omar was certain Zhi would pop the question to his girlfriend, Spin, any day now.
“Hey, I just realized,” said Esme. “You haven’t RSVP’d your plus one.”
Great. He’d walked out of the frying pan and right into the fire.
“You’re not bringing that actress, what’s her name?” asked Jan. The pie maker sat on a plush couch in jeans and a t-shirt, sipping a pink drink.
“Summer,” said Esme.
“I didn’t like her,” said Penelope.
“She doesn’t eat chocolate,” said Jan. “Who doesn’t eat chocolate?”
“I’m not seeing her anymore,” said Omar.
“Or that singer,” said Esme. “She barely spoke above a whisper.”
Omar hadn’t dated Carlie Hyland. But because he’d produced her and they’d been seen out getting dinner a few times, the public assumed they had something else going on.
“Or that model who was a vegetarian,” said Jan. “She cried when the meat course was brought out.”
Corrine Michaels wasn’t on Omar’s roster. They’d simply sat next to each other at an event and were photographed together, which of course meant they were dating in the eyes of society.
“I’m not bringing anyone to the wedding.”
The two women and one tween gaped at him. Even the seamstress stayed her needle.
“I’m not dating anyone right now,” said Omar. “I’m focused on work.”
It sounded lame to his own ears. But it was the truth. And it didn’t hurt that the woman he was currently working with was not only a pleasure to work with but to also look at.
“What about Spin’s friend, Lark?” asked Esme. “She’s just your type.”
She sure was his type. But he reminded himself that he wouldn’t touch. He didn’t need another Summer fiasco or to be linked with any woman he produced. No, it would be all work and no play when it came to this wedding and Lark Voorheen.
