Page 21 of Carnival Master

“Tell him I said go to hell.” I keep the pepper spray aimed at him, backing toward my kitchen where I can grab a knife if needed.

“She won’t take the phone,” he chokes between coughs. “What do you want me to do?”

I hear Tyson’s muffled voice through the speaker but can’t distinguish the words. The guy nods, wincing as he wipes at his streaming eyes.

“Leave before I call the cops.” I keep my pepper spray trained on the intruder, my other hand gripping my phone.

He swipes at his red, swollen eyes and lets out a dark chuckle. “You’ve made a big mistake, sweetheart. We’ll wait.”

My heart pounds against my ribs as I back further into my kitchen. The guy leans against my wall, still rubbing his face but wearing a knowing smirk that makes my skin crawl.

Ten minutes pass in tense silence. The deep rumble of a classic engine outside makes me tense up. Heavy footsteps approach my front door.

Tyson strides in like he owns the place, his jaw tight and eyes blazing. His presence fills my living room, making it feel smaller somehow. The carnival costume is gone—he’s wearing dark jeans and a black T-shirt that stretches across his broad chest.

“Wait outside,” he commands his guy without looking at him.

The man shuffles past, still wiping at his streaming eyes. “Boss, she?—”

“I said outside.” Tyson’s voice carries an edge that makes me flinch.

Tyson turns those intense eyes on me when the door clicks shut behind his man. I grip my pepper spray tighter, though something tells me he won’t be as easy to take down.

“What the hell, Sofia? I send a car to pick you up, and you pepper spray the driver? Are you crazy?”

I straighten, meeting his fierce gaze with as much defiance as possible. “You expect me to get in a car with some thug you send? I don’t know you, yet you assume I’ll come running?”

Tyson advances, stalking toward me like I’m prey. “I saved your life, and this is the thanks I get? You could’ve at least heard me out.”

My shoulders tense, his nearness sending an unwanted shiver down my spine. “I don’t owe you anything.”

“No?” His eyes narrow. “That’s not what I heard. Last I checked, Jimmy Moretti owed me a favor. And from the looks of it, he didn’t do shit to pay me back, so maybe I’ll just take payment from his daughter.”

I scoff, feeling a surge of anger. “My father doesn’t own me, and neither do you.”

His gaze darkens as he takes another step forward, backing me against the counter. “Maybe I don’t want him to owe me anymore.” His voice drops to a dangerous murmur. “Maybe I want to collect what’s owed from you instead.”

A shiver runs through me, this man daring to threaten me in my own home. “And what, exactly, would that entail?”

His eyes flicker over me, an unspoken challenge in his expression. “I think we both know what I want from you.”

I hold his intense gaze, refusing to let him see how he affects me. “Well, I’m not interested in whatever game you’re playing.”

His eyebrow quirks up. “You sure about that? Your body tells a different story.”

My cheeks flame at the intimate nickname. “That’s none of your business.”

His hand darts out, pinning my wrist against the counter. His thumb brushes the inside of my wrist, sending a wave of heat through me. “Maybe I want to make it my business.”

My breath hitches at his touch, my body betraying my resolve.

“You broke into my house uninvited,” I whisper, pulling against his iron grip. “Let me go.”

“Only because you weren’t answering my calls or texts.” His thumb strokes my pulse. His hold is unyielding. “If you weren’t interested, why did you respond to my messages initially?”

I refuse to answer, knowing he’s right. My gaze falls to his mouth, those perfect lips I’ve fantasized about since our first kiss. My body betrays the fear in my heart, responding to his closeness, the pressure of his touch.

His eyes darken at my silence. “Say it, Sofia. Tell me you want me too.”

---