Page 59 of Carnival Master

Sofia smiles at me, and it hits me right in the chest. This is it, I realize, with a start. This is the rush I’ve been seeking.

As we walk through the carnival, I feel like I’m soaring a hundred feet above the ground, untouchable and immortal. Sofia’s presence by my side, her soft laughter, and the scent of her vanilla perfume muddle my thoughts and leave me craving more.

Being near her makes me feel alive for the first time in years.

29

SOFIA

My hands are sticky from cotton candy and caramel apples as I wipe the sweat from my brow. The late evening crowd has thinned to a trickle, leaving me a moment to catch my breath. Who knew standing for hours could make your feet hurt this much?

“You’re doing great,” Aurora says, flashing me an encouraging smile as she restocks the napkin dispenser. “Most people don’t last half the time you have their first time.”

I laugh, flexing my fingers. “I never thought I’d say this, but I like it. It’s... real, you know?”

The carnival lights paint everything in soft blues and pinks, creating a magical atmosphere that feels worlds away from my father’s sterile mansion. A cool breeze carries the mingled scents of popcorn and funnel cake.

“Trust me, I get it.” Aurora hands me a water bottle. “The first time I worked here, I was terrified I’d messeverything up. But there’s something special about being part of a family like this.”

I take a grateful sip, nodding. “My whole life, everything has been handed to me. Designer clothes, fancy cars... but this?” I gesture at my simple carnival uniform, with a small grease stain. “This feels more honest.”

“That’s the carnival life for you.” Aurora wipes down the counter. “Everyone pulls their weight, from the owner to the newest addition. Even Ty works the stands sometimes when necessary.”

The mention of Ty makes me smile. He was so supportive when I insisted on working, even though I could tell he wanted to give me a pass from earning my way.

“Speaking of weight,” I say, lifting a heavy box of supplies, “I think my arms are getting stronger already.”

Aurora chuckles. “Just wait until you’ve been here a month. You’ll be carrying boxes like a pro.”

I survey our nearly empty stand with pride. Despite my aching feet and tired muscles, I feel more accomplished than I ever did attending my father’s fancy galas.

I’m wiping down the last section of the counter when I spot Ty approaching. My heart skips as his powerful frame cuts through the carnival’s dancing lights. Even after all this time, seeing him still makes my skin tingle.

“Time to wrap it up,” he demands, with that powerful tone that weakens my knees. “We’re closing down for the night.”

I nod, trying to focus on helping Aurora count the register rather than the heat of Ty’s gaze. His presencefills the small stand, making it hard to concentrate on simple tasks.

“Just need to finish the count and take out the trash,” Aurora says, but I barely hear her. Ty’s leaning against the counter, his eyes following my every movement as I gather empty boxes.

I bend to pick up a fallen napkin, and I swear I hear his breath catch. When I straighten, his eyes are darker and hungrier. He’s not even trying to hide how he’s watching me, like a predator waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

“The register’s done,” Aurora announces, breaking through the tension. I grab the trash bag, but Ty’s voice stops me.

“Leave that. Aurora can handle it.” His tone brooks no argument. “You’ve done enough for your first night.”

I hesitate, not wanting to burden Aurora, but she waves me off with a knowing smile. “Go on. You’ve earned your rest.”

Ty’s patience is clearly wearing thin as I finish. His intensity makes my hands shake as I untie my apron. I can feel the promise in his gaze, and I’m about to find out exactly what it means.

I follow him through the darkened carnival grounds, our footsteps crunching on scattered popcorn and paper wrappers. The main tent looms ahead, its canvas walls rippling in the night breeze.

“Where are we going?” I ask, but Ty just squeezes my hand and leads me inside.

The tent feels different without the crowds and performers—empty but somehow more intimate. Ourfootsteps echo across the sawdust floor, and moonlight filters through gaps in the canvas.

Ty releases my hand and moves to a trunk near the center ring. He pulls something out—a black leather half-face mask for the upper half of his face. My breath catches as he slides it on. The mask accentuates his sharp jawline, making him look dangerous and incredibly sexy.

“What’s that for?” I ask, mesmerized by how the mask transforms him into something almost mythical.

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