Page 3 of The Ringmaster's Secret
From there, I made my way to the security office, where I was scheduled to meet Jasper, the head of security. The office was stark, a small, windowless space dominated by screens showing live feeds from around the circus. Jasper sat behind a desk cluttered with walkie-talkies and papers, his expression serious.
"Miss Parker," he greeted, his voice gruff. "Ellie said you'd be coming by. Part of the crew now, are you?"
"Yes, just started today. I'm looking forward to understanding more about how things work here," I replied, trying to sound casual while observing the banks of monitors, each flickering with different parts of the circus.
Jasper studied me for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly before he nodded. "Well, safety's the game here. Watch, learn, and stay out of trouble. Circus life can be... unpredictable."
His warning, though veiled, prickled at the back of my mind. There was a depth to his gaze that suggested he knew more than he let on, and I filed away his words as something to ponderlater. As dusk began to settle, I joined the crew at the main tent. I grabbed a length of rope, pulling and securing the heavy canvas under the watchful eyes of the crew leader. The physical work was grounding, but my mind was alert, constantly scanning for anything out of the ordinary.
Every snapped command, every hurried exchange—I absorbed it all, piecing together the hidden dynamics of the circus. Under the shadow of the big top, amidst the laughter and shouts, I felt a thrill of anticipation. This was more than just a job; it was a descent into a world where every smile held a story, and every shadow could be hiding a secret. As I adjusted another prop, I realized that the circus was not just a spectacle to be observed—it was a puzzle to be solved. And I was just beginning to find the edges.
Under the dim lights of the main tent, the murmurs of the eager crowd mingled with the rustle of the canvas above. I tucked myself into the shadows beneath the bleachers, my eyes scanning the vibrant chaos of the circus ring. My attention, however, was riveted on one man alone—Dante, the ringmaster.
“Welcome one and all to the Misfit Cabaret!” Dante stepped into the spotlight, his commanding presence silencing the murmurs as all eyes, including mine, were drawn to him. His attire was impeccable; a tailored red coat that accentuated broad shoulders and a dark, enigmatic charm that seemed to weave through the air like a tangible thread. Each word he uttered seemed to echo around the tent, mesmerizing the audience with tales of awe and wonder. Watching him, I felt an involuntary pull, a mix of professional curiosity and an inexplicable personal interest that fluttered in my chest.
As the final act drew to a close and the crowd erupted into applause, I slipped out, heading toward the animal enclosure. The night had draped the circus in shadows, and the enclosure was dimly lit, creating pockets of darkness that madeit perfect for unnoticed observations. I wandered among the cages, feigning concern for the animals while keenly observing the handlers. Their interactions were brisk, professional, but there was an undercurrent of tension that didn't escape me. In whispered exchanges and hurried glances, I sensed a hierarchy of fear—perhaps of someone or something that wasn’t as benign as the colorful posters suggested. I noted every detail, each peculiar exchange, storing the information away like contraband. Exiting the enclosure, I made my way to the nearly deserted concession stand where Lila, the enigmatic trapeze artist, stood alone, sipping a drink. The faint moonlight cast a halo around her, enhancing the mysterious aura she carried like a second skin.
"Ava, isn't it?" Lila's voice was soft, yet it cut through the night air with clarity.
"Yes, and you’re Lila. Your performance was breathtaking," I replied, matching her tone, half-hoping to bridge the distance between professional curiosity and personal intrigue.
Lila smiled, a slow, knowing curl of her lips. "Thank you. But remember, this circus isn’t just about the dazzle and swing. It’s deeper, darker...and more consuming than the audience ever sees."
Her words hung between us, heavy with implications. Before I could probe further, she excused herself, leaving me with more questions than answers. I turned back in the direction of my small caravan, my thoughts swirling with thoughts of Lila. I’d only met a few of the performers so far, but already I could tell each of them were chosen not just for their charisma, but the way something sensual clung to them. Lila had a certain energy that dripped sex appeal. Her high cheekbones and dark eyebrows were striking and her skin was a warm, sun-kissed shade as if she spent all day in the sun. She was enticing in every way.
I closed the door of my caravan against the chill of the night and the lingering buzz of adrenaline. The space was cramped but functional, a temporary haven from the whirl of my new, double life. I sat at the tiny table and pulled out my journal, the pages waiting like silent confidants. I began to scribble furiously, each note a breadcrumb on the trail I was blazing into this hidden world. Dante’s image dominated the page, his allure etched in every line I wrote. There was something about him that was both captivating and alarming. My mind replayed every moment of the night, from his magnetic control of the crowd to the subtle discord among the animal handlers.
As I wrote, the excitement of unraveling a mystery meshed with a tinge of apprehension about the shadows I might uncover. My heart raced with the thrill of the chase, yet a part of me dreaded what I might find. Dante’s dark eyes seemed to haunt the edges of my thoughts, a puzzle that was both inviting and warning. Settling back, I closed my eyes, letting the day’s sensory overload wash over me. Tomorrow, I would delve deeper, armed with the snippets of whispered secrets and the almost mystical smiles of circus performers. But tonight, I allowed myself to drift into a restless sleep, where the real and the imagined began to blur.
Chapter Three
Dante
In the cool dimness of the main tent, I adjusted the spotlight above the center ring, ensuring each beam cast the perfect glow on the silks that hung like specters waiting for their dance with gravity. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Ava, the new assistant who had been subtly making her presence felt around the circus. She watched intently, her notebook clutched against her chest, her eyes following every one of my instructions.
"More to the left," I called out to the lighting technician, my voice echoing slightly under the vast canvas. I wanted perfection—nothing less was acceptable. Noticing Ava scribbling furiously, I couldn’t help but wonder what she was writing. Was it admiration or critique penned in those pages?
Under a sky streaked with dawn's first light, I was overseeing the setup of a new high-wire rig. My voice carried across the tent as I directed the crew with precise commands. Each member moved with urgency, a blend of respect and apprehension in their eyes—a usual reaction to my stringent demands. Ava stood a safe distance away, her gaze analytical. I wondered if she saw the necessity behind my strictness, the safety it ensured for myperformers up in the air. A short while later, in the bustling confines of the costume department, I discussed fabric choices with Marla, our head costume designer.
“It needs to be lightweight yet durable,” I explained, fingers brushing against the samples laid out on the table. Ava lingered nearby, feigning interest in the inventory but clearly eavesdropping. I talked through my choices deliberately, showcasing a side of me I suspected she hadn’t expected—a man who knew and appreciated the intricacies of costume design as much as the mechanics of a circus act.
By afternoon, I found myself at the animal enclosures, needing a moment away from the human elements of my circus. There, I approached a skittish horse, its eyes wide with the quiet panic of the unfamiliar. Speaking softly, I stroked its mane, my movements gentle and reassuring. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ava watching. Her expression was unreadable, the earlier curiosity mingled now with what I could only guess was surprise. Perhaps she found this contrast in my nature puzzling—the command I held over my crew versus the kindness I afforded a nervous animal. Each of these moments with Ava lurking in the background stirred a strange anticipation within me. It was as if with every observation, she peeled back a layer of the persona I wore as easily as my ringmaster’s coat. It intrigued me, this dance of revelation we seemed to be performing. But it wasn’t just her observations that sparked this feeling; it was also the questions she didn’t ask aloud, the ones I saw flickering in her gaze. I also couldn’t deny that she was beautiful in the most heartstopping way. Dark liquid brown waves fell over her shoulders, and thick eyelashes rimmed her expressive chocolate eyes. She was exotic, her creamy olive skin begged for my touch but I had a job to do and no time for a woman in my life while I did it.
But by that evening, after the last of the day’s tasks were complete, I found myself seeking her out, drawn by a need to understand what she thought of the world I commanded. I found her by the main tent, her notebook now tucked away, her attention captured by the twilight that turned the sky a deep purple.
“Ava,” I called out, my approach causing her to turn. Her expression was a mix of surprise and something else—was it anticipation?
“Dante,” she responded, her voice steady, revealing nothing of her thoughts.
“You’ve been quite observant today,” I noted, closing the distance between us. The air was charged with the evening cool and something else—perhaps the budding awareness of each other as more than just ringmaster and assistant.
“I have a lot to learn,” she said simply, yet her eyes held mine with an intensity that belied her casual words. And in that moment, I realized that Ava wasn’t just another temporary addition to my circus. She was a mystery I found myself wanting to solve, not with the detachment I applied to my acts, but with a personal interest that was as unsettling as it was undeniable.
“I imagine you’re a quick study.” I moved in closer, our lips less than six inches apart. My body throbbed and ached to close the distance.
Her eyes were round and charged with something unmistakable—interest. Inme.A smirk lifted my lips.Game on, sweetheart.
Just then, the dinner bell rang out into the air. I sent her an easy smile before heading in the direction of the food tent. The evening sun slanted through the crimson folds of the tent, casting long shadows across the weathered tables where my performers gathered. Laughter erupted from a group as I moved in their direction and chimed in with a smart retort.I then reminded them of a few of the more scandalous tales from circuses past—close calls and curtain mishaps that seemed almost fond in retrospect. Yet, as I laughed along and began to eat, my gaze occasionally swept the room. It wasn’t just surveillance out of habit; it was a specific focus, an acute awareness of her—Ava.
