Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 31355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
“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. In me. 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.
She sat alone at a table nearby, her meal untouched as she observed us. I noted how her eyes lingered on the interactions, a slight furrow marking her brow as she absorbed the dynamic. Her isolation from the group was a choice that intrigued me. Was it professional detachment or something more personal? After dinner, the corridors behind the main tent bustled with activity as performers readied themselves for the evening's show. I navigated through the chaos with a practiced ease until a sudden turn brought me face-to-face—or rather, body-to-body—with Ava. She collided into me with an oomph, her papers scattering like leaves in a gust. Instinctively, my hands shot out, steadying her by the shoulders. Her skin was warm under my palms, and I felt her tense up at the contact. "Sorry," she muttered, a flush creeping up her neck, visible even under the stage makeup.