Page 50 of Carnival Master

“Business?” Jimmy scoffs, pouring himself a whiskey. “You’ve got nothing I want.”

“I can pay for her hand.” I watch his reaction carefully. “The carnival’s just a front. You know that. My operation brings in millions each month.”

Jimmy takes a long sip, studying me over the rim of his glass. “You think I give a fuck about money? I’ve got more than enough.”

“Then name your price. Whatever it takes.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” He sets down his glass with a sharp crack. “This isn’t about money or business. It’s about legacy. The Moretti name means something in this city. Has for generations.”

“And what exactly is wrong with my name?”

“Your name?” He barks out a laugh. “What name? You’re a fucking carnie who sells drugs. No history, family connections, or respect in the circles that matter.”

“The same circles that buy their drugs from me?”

“That’s business.” Jimmy’s face hardens. “This is family. My daughter deserves better than some upstart criminal hiding behind a circus tent.”

“I love her.”

“Love?” He spits the word like poison. “Love doesn’t mean shit in our world. Status, power, connections—that’s what builds empires. That’s what protects families. What can you offer besides dirty money and a traveling freak show?”

My jaw clenches. Everything I’ve built, everything I’ve accomplished, is meaningless to him. But I won’t let him dismiss what Sofia and I have. “She chose me.”

“She doesn’t know what she wants. And even if she did, it doesn’t matter. In our world, daughters don’t choose. Fathers do.”

I pull out my phone and check the time. “Is that your final answer, Jimmy? Because in exactly thirty minutes, my man will release everything we have on you to every news outlet in the country.”

“Bullshit.” But there’s a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

“You think I came here unprepared?” I scroll through my phone, turning it to show him. “These documents detail every transaction, every dirty deal, every murder you’ve ordered. Bank records, witness statements, photographs—everything.”

Jimmy’s face drains of color as he swipes through the evidence. His hand trembles slightly.

“I wanted to do this the right way.” I take my phone back. “Ask for her hand like a gentleman. But you wouldn’t listen to reason.”

“You’re bluffing.” His voice lacks conviction.

“Twenty-eight minutes now.” I pull up a live feed of Phoenix at his computer, finger hovering over the enter key. “One text from me, and he hits send. Your empire crumbles and your reputation is destroyed. The Moretti name becomes synonymous with scandal.”

Jimmy slumps into his chair, sweat beading on his forehead. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” I lean forward, placing both hands on his desk. “All I want is Sofia. Let me walk out of here with her unharmed, and these files disappear forever. Your choice.”

His eyes dart between my phone and face, searching for any sign of deception. Finding none, he loosens his tie with shaking fingers.

“You ruthless bastard.”

“I learned from the best.” I check my watch again. “Twenty-five minutes, Jimmy. What’s it going to be?”

Jimmy’s shoulders sag in defeat. He reaches for the intercom on his desk and presses the button with trembling fingers.

“Marco, get my daughter. Bring her here.”

The minutes drag as we wait in tense silence. Instead, Jimmy won’t look at me, fixating on his half-empty whiskey glass. The door opens, and Sofia steps in, Marco hovering behind her. Her eyes widen when she sees me.

“Sofia.” Jimmy’s voice is cold. “This... man wants to take you away from here. Is that what you want?”

She glances between us, confusion evident on herface before understanding dawns. “Yes,” she says without hesitation. “Yes, I want to go with Tyson.”

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