The Ringmaster's Secret (The Misfit Cabaret Book 1) by Aria Cole

Author:Aria Cole [Cole, Aria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-08-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Ava

The morning light filtered through the blinds of the circus’s main office, casting lines like bars across the room where Dante and I met to strategize our next steps. Despite the chill in the air, the tension between us was palpable, warming the space with a mix of unresolved emotions and the remnants of betrayal. As Dante laid out a map of the circus grounds on his desk, our fingers brushed—a fleeting contact that sent a jolt through me, reigniting a spark that I both dreaded and desired.

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you, Ava,” Dante said, his voice low, meeting my eyes with a sincerity that made my heart skip. “But we need to work together closely to root this out. Are you with me?”

The hesitation in my voice was imperceptible as I answered, “Yes.” I was committed, despite the whirlwind of feelings. As we poured over the map, our heads bowed together, the proximity brought back a rush of memories—his scent, the sound of his voice. It was disarming, and for a moment, I lost myself in the closeness.

Stepping out into the brisk air of the circus grounds, we moved among the trailers and tents. Our presence was casual but our eyes sharp, watching the crew members whose subtle interactions didn’t quite fit the friendly chaos of circus life. Every so often, our shoulders would brush, a touch electric with unspoken words and lingering looks that questioned what we were to each other beneath the professional veneer.

In the bustling costume department, I rifled through a rack of glittering outfits when my fingers stumbled upon an anomaly—a thick seam that didn’t belong. With a careful tug, I found a hidden ledger, its pages filled with numbers that told stories of bribery and secrets. Dante came up behind me, his presence enveloping, his breath warm on my neck as he peered over my shoulder to look at the ledger.

“Nicely done,” he murmured, his voice a mix of admiration and caution, stirring a mix of professional pride and personal thrill within me. His proximity was a reminder of the complicated layers of our relationship—partners in a dangerous game, yet so much more in unguarded moments.

Later that afternoon, armed with my camera, we positioned ourselves behind the cover of a utility shed near the training area. When a trainer met with a shadowy figure, exchanging envelopes and hurried whispers, Dante and I captured every moment from a distance. The camera’s shutter clicked under my finger, a staccato beat to the racing of my heart, amplified by Dante's quiet presence at my side.

Each photo clicked into place not just evidence, but also pieces of a puzzle that was our relationship—complex, fraught with hidden dangers, yet irresistibly compelling. As we wrapped up and headed back, Dante’s hand brushed mine, a touch deliberate this time, sending a clear message through the contact.

“Thank you, Ava,” he said as we walked back, his voice soft, laden with more than just gratitude for the day’s work. “For everything.

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