Page 20 of House of Clowns

I froze, eyes going wider. "A tiger? So, what, I'll be dead. Hypnotized dead."

He turned partially, shrugging as he looked over his shoulder. "Nah. Dead with five hundred euros in your pocket."

I smiled wryly, raising an eyebrow. "Alright, sounds good to me." Rocco jammed the flyers into my chest, pressing the cane up firmly into my shoulder. "One thing, though: clear your head while you're at it, Rio. I mean point-blank clear. Otherwise, you'll end up like Victor."

I nodded.

Victor had been down this path before. Months before, he took on Hypno's"suggestions,"but there came a day when something inside of him started to twist. He became moody, yet it led him to a savage mentality—a raw, violent edge slicing through every interaction, possessive, brutal; in short, someone who needed to be chained down during his act, just to keep him in check. It got so bad that Hypno had to hypnotize him again just to bring him back to something resembling"normal."We all have our brand of crazy here, but Victor? He was like a man possessed. For the past week, he'd been acting better, but Bart mentioned he'd tried to take some girl, and since then, I couldn't shake the unease.

I knew full well what that meant.But would that remove her from my consciousness, too?

Chiara, she haunted me, even now. Her face slipped into my thoughts, vivid as daybreak; every waking moment felt stretched thin when I couldn't see her. Minutes became hours, and time simply didn't exist without her.

What the hell is wrong with me?

This wasn't love—couldn't be. I didn't know what love was, hadn't even been built for it. Someone like her, so vibrant, didn't deserve someone like me. Yet, here I was, helpless in attraction to her, heart and mind at odds. It wasn't rational; it was an addiction, one I could feel sinking deeper.

But she'd never love a clown.

The maze had filled, shadows shifting as voices and laughter ricocheted off the mirrors. Showtime.

I stepped inside, caught in a fractured world of reflections. The painted face stared back at me from all angles—twisted in a funhouse of distorted versions, each one a different nightmare. Screams started before I moved, shrill voices chanting, "Clown! Clown!" as though naming me would save them.

No shit, Sherlock. I'm a clown.

I strode through the maze, the laughter and screams only getting louder as I turned the corners of the twisting passageways. A bunch of girls were posing in front of a full-length mirror, their phones flashing in pictures. Perfect. I slinked up behind them, leaned in until my face was only inches away from theirs, and then slid into view, hollering, "BOO!"

They scattered with shrieks, and I couldn't help but break into laughter as they bolted from the maze, almost tumbling over each other.

And then I saw her.

Chiara stepped into the maze, and everything else was dulled into nothingness. She was also wearing one of Ruby's crimson lace corsets, a work of art in sharp lines and curves that just exaggerated her figure into something impossibly arresting.

Her short skirt barely grazed mid-thigh, while a small ace of hearts was pinned over her heart, her hair twisted into an elegant bun under a tiny red and black hat tilted to one side. Crimson heels completed the look, glinting under the small lights. She was porcelain-faced with a perfect, red-lipped heart; a tension line of makeup drew from brow to cheek—a dark, dramatic accent between her piercing eyes. She was the Queen of Hearts, or maybe just the Ace—the one who'd stolen my heart, no question. My breath caught, everything else forgotten.

I pushed myself against the back of the mirror, breathing heavily, my heartbeat racing as if trying to jump out of my chest, my rhythm tuned to the muffled sounds of the maze.

"So, I guess you won't scare me, huh?" Her voice slipped through the glass soft, close.

"I don't have to," I whispered, barely setting my voice above a whisper, "I don't want to scare you."

Her laugh was low, a quiet hum. "What if I want you to?"

I shifted, making her work for it. "Then you'd be nuts."

She leaned her body against the mirror, her figure a shadow on the other side. "Aren't we all?"

I stepped into view, the mirrors reflecting a hundred versions of me, each one focused on her. "We are," I agreed, the tilt of my head watching as her eyes held me there, her teeth pulling at her lower lip.

God, that's one thing I loved when she did.

"Tell me, darling," I said, closing the distance between us, "what do you want? You really can't expect me to believe you came here only to get scared."

She shook her head, her eyes sparkling. "No. I came forsomethingwe bothneedrightnow."

I leaned in, my chest almost brushing hers, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her.

"And what's that?" I exclaimed, my hand coming up to the mirror beside her, pinning her in. Her breathing hastened, and I could see the rise and fall of her chest, a mirror to my heartbeat, running wild. "Say it," I demanded, my voice thick as I dropped closer, my fingers tracing the line of her jaw down to cup her chin and tilt her face up to mine. "Say it."

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