Page 85 of Carnival Master

“Really.” I lean down, pressing my forehead to hers. “You make me want to be better. To be worthy of you.”

“You already are worthy of me,” she whispers, herlips brushing mine. “You saved me, Ty. Not just from my father or Paulie, but from a life without love. Without passion.”

I kiss her, pouring all my feelings into that gentle touch. When I pull back, her eyes are shining with tears.

“Don’t cry.” I wipe them away. “I’ve got you. Always will.”

She smiles through her tears. “Promise?”

“Promise.” I gather her closer, cradling her against my chest.

She’s mine. And I’m hers. Nothing is ever going to change that. I want to build her up and erase any insecurity she’s ever felt. And that’s exactly what I plan to do for the rest of our lives.

39

EPILOGUE

SOFIA

One year later…

Iadjust the sequins on my emerald costume, smiling as I catch my reflection in the mirror. I would’ve cringed at wearing something so form-fitting a year ago, but now I wear it with pride. The carnival lights dance across the fabric, making me sparkle like a jewel.

“Five minutes until showtime,” I call out, striding through the backstage area of the main tent. The familiar buzz of pre-show energy fills the air.

Flora stretches near the rigging, her blonde hair in a tight bun. She joined us last Christmas Eve, and watching her soar through the air with Colt and Nash still takes my breath away. The three share something special—a connection I don’t quite understand, but it works for them. They’re inseparable both in and out of the ring.

“Everything set for the finale?” I ask, checking off items on my clipboard.

“Ready to fly,” Flora says with a confident grin. She’s far from the scared girl who showed up at our door that winter night.

Ty appears behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “My gorgeous girl,” he murmurs against my neck. “Running the show like you were born for it.”

I lean back into his embrace, savoring his warmth. “I was meant for this life—for you.” My old insecurities have faded like morning mist under the sun of his love.

The tent fills with the excited chatter of the gathering crowd. I feel at home among the sawdust and sequins, the bright lights and bold dreams. This world that once seemed so foreign has become my sanctuary, and the man who rules it is my heart’s true north. Sure, there’s still the darker side of the carnival. Ty’s true money maker is still running, but I don’t get involved.

“Places, everyone!” I call out, stepping into my role as show coordinator with practiced ease. Ty squeezes my hand before heading to his position as ringmaster.

And then the show runs as smoothly as it does every night. The crowd’s roar fades to silence when finished, but my heart still pounds with post-show adrenaline. Sawdust swirls in the spotlights as the last audience members filter out the big top. I clutch my clipboard, reviewing tomorrow’s schedule when strong arms encircle my waist from behind.

“You were incredible tonight,” Ty’s deep voice sends shivers down my spine. His hands slide over my sequined costume, tracing my curves with possessiveintent. “Watching you command the show... Fuck, baby girl, it made me so hard.”

I melt into his touch, tilting my head as his lips find my neck. The clipboard slips from my fingers, clattering to the ground. His firm chest presses against my back, and I can feel how much the show affected him.

“I love seeing you take charge,” he growls, nipping my earlobe. “The way everyone jumps to follow your orders. But we both know who’s in control, right?”

My breath catches as one hand slides up to cup my breast through the thin material of my dress. “Yes,” I whisper.

The empty tent feels charged with electricity, remnants of the night’s magic mixing with our growing desire.

“Say it,” he demands, his other hand gripping my hip tight enough to bruise.

“You are,” I gasp as his fingers pinch my nipple. “You’re in control, Master.”

Ty growls, forcing me to face him and claiming my mouth in a searing kiss. Our passion ignites as we devour each other, hands tugging and pulling at our clothes. The fabric of his shirt rips beneath my eager hands, and he laughs. I need to feel his skin against mine.

He lays me down on the floor, our gazes locked. His eyes smolder with desire. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, his lips never breaking contact with my skin as he trails kisses down my neck.

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