Page 39 of Carnival Master

I think about Paulie’s cold touches and his mechanical kisses. There’s no fire like Tyson ignites in me. Where Paulie demands I change, Tyson celebrates who I am. The arranged marriage my father set up feels more suffocating than ever.

“You make me feel alive,” I whisper against his skin. “Like I can be myself without apologizing.”

His arms tighten around me. “That’s exactly who I want you to be. No pretending. No hiding.”

The truth of his words settles deep in my chest. With Tyson, I don’t have to be Jimmy Moretti’s perfect daughter or Paulie’s proper wife-to-be. I can just be Sofia, curves and all, and that’s exactly what I want.

I pull away from Tyson’s warmth, reality crashing back like a bucket of ice water. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“Why not, baby girl?”

“Because you’ll end up dead.” I sit up, wrapping the sheet around myself. “If my father found out, he’d have you killed. And if not him, then Paulie would do it himself. They don’t share what they consider theirs.”

Tyson’s laugh surprises me. Deep and rich, completely unfazed by my warning. “You underestimate me, Sofia. I’ve been in this game longer than you think. I’m not that easy to kill.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m thirty-eight. Been running things since before you were legal.”

I whip around to face him. “Thirty-eight? But I thought...” My eyes trace over his face, searching for signs I missed. Sure, there are subtle lines around hiseyes when he smiles, but nothing that tells me he’s in his late thirties.

“Thought I was closer to your age?” His fingers brush my cheek. “Does it bother you?”

“I’m twenty-six,” I say, still processing. “And no, it doesn’t bother me. I just... you don’t look thirty-eight.”

“Good genes.” His cocky grin returns. “But more importantly, I’ve survived this long because I know how to handle myself. Your father and Paulie aren’t the only ones with connections.”

I trace my fingers over the sheet, lost in thought. “Every night with you is better than the last. And I love that you don’t monitor what I eat, but this can’t continue. We’re kidding ourselves.”

Tyson’s hand slides over mine. “I’d never monitor what you eat. I want you to be real with me. No pretending, no counting calories.”

My chest tightens with the admission. “With you, everything feels so free and unrestrained.”

But freedom comes with a price. I’ve seen what happens to people who cross my father. The memory of my father’s former associate’s “disappearance” sends a chill down my spine.

“I can’t let anything happen to you.” The words catch in my throat. “My father... The things he’s capable of...”

“And what about what you’re capable of?” Tyson’s questions. “You’re stronger than you think, baby girl. The real you, not the perfect daughter act.”

He’s right. With him, I feel alive for the first time in years. No judgment, no expectations. Just me, beingexactly who I wanted to be. The carnival I’d initially turned my nose up at became a haven of freedom. Even now, the memory of walking with Tyson through the twinkling lights makes my heart race.

“I want to choose my own life,” I whisper, more to myself than him. “I’m tired of being told who to be, what to eat, how to act. But wanting something and having the courage to take it are two different things.”

His fingers trace my jaw, tilting my face to meet his gaze. “You’re not some delicate flower that needs protecting. I’ve seen your fire, your strength. The way you stood up to me when we first met? That’s who you really are.”

My heart stutters at his words. No one’s ever spoken to me like this before. Even Sasha, bless her heart, treats me like I need saving from my family, Tyson, and myself.

“But my best friend said?—”

“What? That I’m dangerous?” His thumb brushes across my bottom lip. “I won’t deny I pursued you hard. But that’s because I saw past the mask you wear for everyone else. I saw you.”

Tears prick at my eyes. He’s right. From that first confrontation in the carnival, he’s been the only one to challenge me, to push back against my walls instead of trying to shelter me behind them.

“You think I’m strong?” My voice comes out smaller than I intended.

“I know you are. The question is, do you believe it?”

I think about how everyone in my life treats me - Dad’s overprotective control, Paulie’s constant criticism,even Sasha’s well-meaning concern. They all see me as something to be managed, fixed, or saved.

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