Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 20554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 103(@200wpm)___ 82(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 103(@200wpm)___ 82(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
I nod, feeling a mix of defensiveness and curiosity. "Yeah. We've been working closely together."
Dante’s gaze is steady, a mix of paternal concern and stern authority. "I've seen what happens when performers get too entangled with Marcus. There were others before you, Clara. Talented, promising performers who got too close and paid the price."
His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I knew Marcus had a past, but hearing it laid out like this is unsettling. "What do you mean, paid the price?"
Dante sighs, leaning back in his chair. "Marcus is driven, sometimes to the point of recklessness. His search for that fucking artifact, whatever it is, has consumed him. Those who got too close to him were dragged into his obsession. They lost focus, lost themselves. Some left the circus; others... well, let's just say it didn't end well for them."
I swallow hard, the gravity of Dante’s words sinking in. "Marcus told me about the artifact. About his parents. I understand the risks."
Dante’s eyes narrow slightly. "Do you, Clara? Do you really understand what you're getting into? Marcus's world is filled with shadows and secrets. It's dangerous."
I feel a surge of defensiveness. "I know it's dangerous, Dante. But I care about him. I believe in what we're doing. And I believe in him."
Dante’s expression softens, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "I don't doubt your feelings, Clara. But feelings can blind us to the truth. Just be careful. You’ve only been here a week–he told me you already quit your other job and are joining us on the road. I just don't want to see you get hurt."
I nod, my emotions a tumultuous mix of defensiveness and understanding. "I appreciate your concern, Dante. Truly. But my feelings for Marcus run deep. I'm standing by him."
Dante studies me for a long moment, then nods slowly. "Very well. Just promise me you'll stay vigilant. And if things start to spiral out of control, come to me. I’ll help you."
"I will. I promise."
As I leave the tent, the weight of the conversation settles over me. The circus grounds are as bustling as ever, but I feel a new sense of resolve. My heart belongs to Marcus, and I’ll face whatever dangers come our way but I would be lying if I didn’t admit that Dante’s words got under my skin. Who else has Marcus burned in his quest for this elusive artifact? When we made love he said he hadn’t been with another woman in a decade–but is that the truth?
I find Marcus near the practice area, his focus intense as he works through the details of our new act. He looks up as I approach, his eyes lighting up with a mix of relief and happiness.
"Hey," he says, pulling me into a quick, fierce hug. "Everything okay?"
I smile, the warmth of his embrace soothing the lingering tension. "Yeah. Just had a talk with Dante. He's worried about us."
Marcus’s expression darkens slightly. "What did he say?"
"He warned me about the dangers of getting too close to you. Told me about others who got hurt."
Marcus sighs, his grip on me tightening. "Clara, I... I'm sorry. I never wanted to put you in danger."
“Were any of the others women?”
“No, I swear to you, what I said about not being sexual with anyone in over a decade was true. I promise you.”
I nod, believing him with every fiber of my being. “Okay.”
His eyes soften, filled with gratitude and something deeper. "Thank you. Your trust means more to me than you know."
We share a moment of quiet understanding, our bond strengthened by the challenges we face. As we turn back to our practice, I feel a renewed sense of purpose. And as we move through the routine, I know that this is where I belong—by Marcus’s side, in this world of illusion and reality, danger and desire.
Chapter Seven
Marcus
The circus grounds pulse with energy as night falls, every corner alive with activity. Performers dart between tents, adjusting costumes, rehearsing last-minute routines, the air thick with anticipation. Clara and I, now the circus’s new headliners, attract attention from every direction. Eyes linger on us, a mix of curiosity, envy, and concern. It’s a heady sensation, being at the center of the spotlight.
I can feel the intensity of the crowd, the unspoken judgments and silent hopes. Clara stands by my side, her presence a soothing balm against the noise. We move through our final preparations, checking props, rehearsing our moves, syncing our breaths. The act we’ve crafted is intricate, demanding absolute trust and synchronization. Any slip could spell disaster, but I have faith in us.
“Marcus,” Clara says softly, drawing me from my thoughts. Her eyes hold a blend of excitement and nervousness. “Are we ready for this?”
I take her hands in mine, squeezing gently. “We’re more than ready. We’ve got this, Clara. And no matter what happens, I’m right here with you.”