Page 7 of The Ringmaster's Secret
“I like stealing your breath,” I winked.
Her cheeks flushed under the lights over our head. My heart thundered away in my chest when she stood, smiled softly and then blew me a kiss. “I like when you steal my breath too.”
I stood, cupping her elbow. “Do you want me to walk you home?”
“No, no it’s okay. I need a moment to collect my thoughts. It’s not everyday a girl get’s her breath stolen by a handsome ringmaster.”
I laughed. “I imagine not.”
The next morning, I found Ava examining a sequined gown, her focus giving her a soft glow in the dimly lit costume room. I approached quietly, a feather boa in hand, and as I reached her, I draped it gently around her neck. My fingers brushed her skin, lingering just a moment too long as I adjusted the fabric. Her sharp intake of breath was audible, and she turned to look at me, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and something darker, more inviting. "It suits you," I said, my voice low, feeling the electric charge that moment sparked between us. “I had fun last night, thank you for joining me.”
She nodded, eyes flickering anywhere but me before she slipped away, exiting the tent so quickly only the soft scent of her strawberry shampoo remained. I walked on slow strides to the animal enclosure, where the sun cast long shadows across the ground. Ava was trailing along with me as I talked about the specifics of feeding the giraffes, when we reached the pens we paused shoulder to shoulder. I liked standing so unusually close to her. As she reached out to offer a carrot, I placed my hands over hers, guiding them. My chest pressed lightly against her back, and I could feel the tension ripple through her. "Gentle," I whispered, my breath stirring the hair at the nape of her neck, my words as much about the moment as they were about feeding the towering animal before us.
Each of these encounters wove a complex tapestry of attraction and professionalism, blurring lines I had once observed with strict adherence. With Ava, it was different. The thrill of the circus, the danger of our growing closeness—it wasa potent mix that threatened to overwhelm my usual control. As I stood behind her at the enclosure, feeling her lean back ever so slightly into me, I realized how much I wanted to push those boundaries further, to explore the undeniable chemistry that sizzled in the air between us. But even as I indulged in these moments, part of me remained acutely aware of the risks. Ava was here under professional pretenses, and her investigation into the circus’s workings hung over us like a specter. Each step closer we took, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was leading us toward something real and lasting, or if it was merely the setup for a fall neither of us could afford. As I watched her laugh, throwing her head back against the golden hour light that turned her hair into a halo, I knew, regardless of the danger, that I was too far gone to step back now.
Evening soon descended like a soft cloak over the circus, muting the daytime clamor into subdued whispers. I watched as inside her caravan, Ava paced, a seeming tempest of confusion and desire roiling within her. I watched from a discreet distance, unseen, my presence cloaked by the shadows. The soft light spilling from her windows painted her silhouette against the thin curtains—every movement betraying her turmoil. She paused, her hands hovering over an envelope—the one I knew contained evidence that could threaten the very fabric of my world. Then her gaze shifted to a photograph of us captured earlier by another performer, laughing, a rare moment of unguarded joy captured forever. The stark contrast between the document and our image seemed to slice through her, her body sagging into a chair as if the weight of something unspoken was too much to bear.
I left my hiding spot near Ava’s caravan because I couldn't stay hidden any longer, not with the stakes so high. As the circus roared back to life for the evening performance a while later, I found Ava backstage, her face a mask of professionalism, buther eyes—those deep wells of emotion—gave her away. I reached out, my hand closing firmly around her arm, and drew her away from the prying eyes of the other performers.
“Ava,” I began, my voice low, every word measured yet heavy with emotion. “I’ve heard whispers about your...investigations. We need to talk.” My gaze held hers, searching for an anchor in the storm I saw brewing behind her eyes.
The space between us was charged with a potent mix of tension and desire. “Dante, I—” she started, but the words seemed to catch in her throat.
“Please, just tell me the truth,” I implored, my hold on her arm loosening, turning into a plea rather than a restraint.
Under the bleachers, away from the thunderous applause for the night’s show, I acted on impulse. I pulled her into the shadows and kissed her, a move born of frustration and a deep, undeniable yearning. The kiss was reckless, a mingling of challenge and plea, as if I could meld our conflicts and confusions into something sweet and less daunting. When I finally pulled away, her breathless expression mirrored my wild mix of emotions—this wasn't just about attraction anymore, it was about everything we stood to lose or gain. And so I left her standing like that, my emotions too big to carry at this moment.
As the circus settled into the quiet of midnight, Ava wandered alone outside in the shadows. I watched her from a distance, giving her the space I knew she needed but loathing every inch that separated us. I hated myself from walking away earlier, and I hated myself even more because I couldn’t stay away either. I watched her walk along on soft steps before she paused by the lion’s cage, her figure bathed in moonlight, her attention fixed on the wild animal pacing behind bars. I couldn’t hear her thoughts, but the way she mirrored the lion’s restless movements spoke volumes. I wondered if she was caught in a cage of her own making like I was, torn between duty and theraw, escalating desire that pulsed between us. I knew she felt it because I could feel it too. As the night deepened, I remained hidden in the darkness, my eyes never straying from her solitary form. The emotional distance, the professional barriers, the secrets—they all seemed trivial now against the backdrop of what I felt, of what I saw in her every hesitant step. Tomorrow, I promised myself, I would bridge that gap. I would confront not just the investigations or the suspicions but the burgeoning something that neither of us could deny any longer.
Tonight, though, I left her to the moon and the pacing lion, to her thoughts and turmoil. But tomorrow, I would be there, ready to face whatever came our way—together or apart. The circus, with all its enchantments and illusions, had never felt more like a battleground than it did under that vast, starlit sky.
Chapter Six
Ava
In the dim light of the circus archive room inside the office tent, the dust motes danced like tiny specters in the shafts of sunlight that pierced the gloom. I tried to keep my thoughts off of Dante as I rifled through aged documents and old show posters until my fingers, driven by an investigative instinct, discovered a false bottom in one of the drawers. With a soft click, the hidden compartment gave way, revealing ledgers and paperwork that reeked of age and secrets. As I sifted through the pages, the figures jumped out at me—large payments made out to unknown entities, the purpose of these transactions marked vaguely or not at all. Each entry was a breadcrumb on a trail that promised to lead me deeper into the circus’s shadowy financial underbelly.
With the weight of the evidence in my backpack, I stepped out into the daylight, the circus grounds bustling around me as if it were just another day. But for me, the stakes had just escalated. I noticed a group of stern-looking men heading toward a restricted area rarely frequented by the performers or staff. My curiosity piqued, I followed discreetly, keeping a safe distance. From behind the cover of a brightly painted wagon, Iobserved their guarded demeanors and snapped photos of their faces and the secluded meeting spot. And a while later, in the performers' dressing room, amidst the chaos of preparations for the evening’s show, I stumbled upon something chilling. Behind a row of glittering costumes, in a small, overlooked locker, I found a stack of letters bound by a faded ribbon. Unfolding them with trembling hands, I read the threats veiled in polite prose, the messages clear: comply or suffer the consequences. The letters were unsigned, but the fear they were intended to instill was as oppressive as the makeup scent that permeated the air.
As dusk settled over the circus, casting long shadows that twisted like the secrets I was unearthing, I lingered near the back of the main tent. Here, I overheard a conversation that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Two of the circus’s top office guys, Larry and Matt, their voices hushed and urgent, discussed how to “deal with the snooping journalist”—me. Their words, coupled with the knowledge of the threats already issued, sent a cold dread spiraling through me. I was no longer just an observer; I was a direct threat to their operations, and they knew it. Each discovery, each clandestine observation, drew me deeper into a web of deceit that was as intoxicating as it was dangerous. The thrill of the chase, the adrenaline of uncovering hidden truths, was heady, but so was the growing connection I felt with Dante. He was woven into the fabric of this place, his leadership a beacon that now seemed marred by the murkiness of these revelations. How much did he know? How deeply was he involved? My heart ached to confront him, to hear his side of the story, but fear—a fear of the truth I might uncover—held me back. Was he only wooing me to find out my own secrets? I was weary of letting him too close for fear he’d discover my true purpose at the Misfit Cabaret.
That night, as I lay in the small bed in my caravan, the evidence I’d collected spread out around me like pieces of asinister puzzle, I felt the walls close in. Outside, the laughter and music of the circus continued, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions raging within me. Dante, with his mysterious smile and eyes that promised both danger and desire, haunted my thoughts. Was he the mastermind or another pawn in the game? Tomorrow, I promised myself, I would confront him. Tomorrow, I would demand answers. But tonight, I would allow myself to remember the man who had gently shown me the ropes, who had whispered secrets under the cover of darkness, not just about the circus, but about his hopes and fears for the future of the Misfit Cabaret over our shared dinner. Tonight, I would dream of the man I hoped he would be, not the shadow my investigation threatened to reveal.
Unable to sleep and with the moon cast a silvery glow over the circus grounds, the hustle of the day melted into a quiet, secretive hush that cloaked my movements as I slipped into the circus office. My heart thumped in sync with my stealthy steps. At the locked filing cabinet, I knelt, my fingers deftly picking the lock—an old skill from a misspent youth I seldom admitted to, yet tonight it was a lifeline. The drawer gave way with a soft click, less a sound of defeat than a whispered invitation to uncover the truths hidden within. Behind the neatly filed documents, my hands discovered a false back, a secret compartment that chilled me with both its ingenuity and implication. Inside, passports and personal files of several performers who had mysteriously 'left' the circus—each document a somber reminder of the stakes at play. My fingers brushed over the names, each one a story cut short, a destiny altered.
As I re-locked the cabinet, the soft crunch of gravel behind me spun me around, my heart leaping to my throat. Dante stood in the doorway, the dim light casting deep shadows across his face, his eyes glinting with an unreadable emotion. How were we so drawn to each other, almost like magnets? His voice was soft,but underneath lay a taut thread of tension. "Ava, what are you doing here so late?"
"I could ask you the same," I managed to say, my mind racing to conceal the incriminating folder I had tucked under my arm.
His gaze flicked down, then back to my face, a gentle probe that felt like a jolt.
"Just some last-minute checks on my report... for tomorrow's performance review," I lied, hoping my voice carried more conviction than I felt.
“Oh yeah?” Dante stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, the air between us charged with an electric current that both attracted and alarmed me. "You're working too hard," he murmured, reaching out as if to brush a strand of hair from my face but stopping short, his hand falling back to his side. In the dim lights of the main tent in the distance, the world was ours alone, intimate and shadowed. “It’s my duty to know every move that takes place here.” Dante's eyes held mine, and he spoke of the burdens he carried, the threats that shadowed his every move since he'd taken over the circus. "It's not just about keeping the show running... It's about protecting everyone," he confessed, his voice heavy with a vulnerability I hadn't seen before. Each word drew me deeper into the labyrinth of his life, complicating my mission with new layers of empathy and confusion.
“I want you to see something," he said suddenly, his hand extending toward me. Trust warred with caution as I placed my hand in his, letting him lead me out under the cover of night to the animal enclosures.
At midnight, the world seemed to hold its breath as we stood before the new arrivals—exotic animals that Dante explained were part of his vision to rejuvenate and redirect the circus towards a more ethical, sustainable future. "Every animal here represents a new beginning," he said, his voice infused with apassion that made me see him anew. As we watched a pair of luminescent-eyed leopards pace gracefully in their enclosure, Dante's hand found mine, his touch tentative yet full of promise.
