Page 12 of Carnival Master

“Boss.” A man’s gravelly voice sends ice through my veins.

I scramble out of Tyson’s embrace to the ground, my heart pounding for a different reason. Oh God. What am I doing? I’m engaged. This can’t happen.

“I should... I need to go,” I stammer, unable to look at either man as shame and guilt crash over me. I grab my purse from where it fell and practically run from the tent, leaving my dignity behind.

7

TYSON

Islam my fist against one of the tent poles, my cock throbbing from Sofia’s body in my arms. “What the fuck, Lars? You couldn’t wait five fucking minutes?”

Lars shifts his weight, running a hand through his dark hair. “Boss, I’m sorry about the cockblock, but we’ve got bigger problems.”

“Bigger than me getting somewhere with Jimmy’s daughter?” The tension in my shoulders builds as I adjust myself, trying to get comfortable.

“The Friday shipment.” Lars’s voice drops lower. “Just got word twenty kilos went missing from our supplier’s warehouse.”

“Fuck!” I kick over a nearby chair, sending it clattering across the ground. “That’s almost half our order. Jimmy’s gonna have my balls in a vice if we can’t deliver.”

“That’s not all.” Lars crosses his arms. “Word is itwasn’t random. Someone knew exactly what they were looking for.”

The implication hits me like a punch to the gut. We’ve got a leak somewhere in the supply chain, and now I’ve got to deal with this shit instead of pursuing Sofia. Between my blue balls and this clusterfuck, my mood turns darker by the second.

“Get Phoenix, Nash, and Colt. Meeting in my trailer in ten. And Lars?” I fix him with a hard stare. “Next time you interrupt me with a woman, it better be because the whole fucking carnival’s on fire.”

He nods and strolls out.

I rest my forehead against the cool metal of the tent pole, the same one that had supported Sofia’s weight moments ago. Her scent still lingers—a mix of vanilla and something uniquely her. My dick throbs in my pants, though the urgency has faded since Lars’s interruption.

“Fuck.” I exhale, squeezing my eyes shut. The memory of her soft curves pressed against me, the way she melted into my kiss—it’s all burned into my brain. The little whimper she made when I pulled her closer.

I straighten, adjusting myself in my jeans. My fingers trace the metal tent pole, remembering how perfectly she fit there.

“Get it together,” I mutter to myself. I can’t afford distractions, not with this shipment mess threatening everything I’ve built. But damn, if Sofia Moretti isn’t the most delicious distraction I’ve ever encountered.

The tent feels empty now, hollow without her presence. The usual carnival sounds seem muted like they’recoming from miles away. My skin still burns where she touched me, and my lips tingle from our kiss.

I push off the pole, rolling my shoulders back. Time to switch gears and deal with this situation. But as I turn to head toward my trailer, my cock gives another defiant throb, reminding me exactly what I’m walking away from.

Jimmy Moretti’s daughter. Of all the women to get tangled up with, I had to pick her. And now I’ve got to figure out how to tell her father that his shipment’s been compromised. Perfect fucking timing.

I storm into my trailer, the door banging against the wall. The usual suspects are already here—Lars leaning against the counter, Colt sprawled on my couch, Nash perched on the arm, and Phoenix pacing by the window.

“Someone better have answers,” I growl.

Phoenix stops his pacing, his expression softer than usual. Ever since he met Tilly, he’s lost that perpetual scowl. He’s still a grumpy bastard half the time, but at least now he cracks the occasional smile.

“Got some leads on who might’ve hit the warehouse,” Phoenix says, pulling out his phone. “Security footage shows three guys, professional job. In and out in under ten minutes.”

“They knew exactly what they were looking for,” Lars adds, echoing his earlier warning.

Nash leans forward, his grace evident even in that simple movement. “Inside job?”

“Has to be.” Colt sits straighter. “No way they’d know which shipment to hit otherwise.”

I rub my temples, the headache from earlier intensifying. “Show me the footage.”

Phoenix hands over his phone. The video quality is shit, but I can make out three figures moving with military precision through the warehouse. They bypass other valuable merchandise, heading straight for our shipment.

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