“It’s a circus for grown-ups.”
“Then why are there so many kids here? And why am I the only one dressed up?”
“So ungrateful.”
He pinches my ass hard, and I laugh as he walks me toward the VIP line while everyone else in the general line watches us agape. I offer passersby wary smiles, but it’s hard to even notice them when Dariusdoesn’t. Instead, he acts like this is all totally normal. Like he’s a regular guy ordering popcorn from the vendor, who about looks ready to piss herself at the sight of him.
The people-pleasing Taranis is nowhere in sight either. He waves off anyone who tries to ask him for pictures or an autograph, and when he leads us to our seats under the big top, I laugh when he realizes the seats are too small for him.
“You’re also blocking the eleven rows of seats behind you,” I tell him, starting to stand back up. “Let’s go stand at the back.”
“I’m not going to stand at the back,” he huffs, and before the squadron of frantic ushers can try to accommodate him, he grabs my hips, hauls me onto his lap, and starts tolift. We rise up into the rafters, him still in a chair position, me still seated on top of him. He floats us over to where the light crew stands on a metal walkway and takes a seat at an empty place amid the employees—one without any railings. I’ve never been particularly afraid of heights, and I’m not afraid at all right now. I probably should be. He’s so hot and cold—one minute he’s asking me to marry him, the next he might just push me.
“Popcorn? Wine?” he asks me, warm breath on my neck, his strong arms circling my waist.
My arms prickle with goose bumps. “Yes,” I say breathily.
He hands me both, and as the circus starts and acrobats leap and spin onto the stage, I no longer think I might be in trouble. I know forcertainI’m in trouble.
After the show, he flies us home, unwilling to wade through the traffic that Nicoleta is caught up in trying to get out of the parking lot. We land on the balcony of his penthouse, my limbs all a little shaky from holding on to him as tight as I was. He seems to realize this and sweeps my feet, then carries me inside. He sets me down on the barstool in front of his kitchen island before moving around it with confidence and opening up his fridge.
“You were right,” I say with a chuckle. “That was an adult circus.”
“I told you.”
“I was expecting clowns and animals. I’m glad there weren’t either.”
He smiles as he turns toward me, his hands filled with peppers and round blocks of mozzarella. “It’s a variety show, technically. Not a circus.”
I nod and then shiver, residual chills from flying shooting up my arms. “I about lost my lunch when that guy stood on the other guy’s shoulders on a bicycle and went over that tightrope.”
Darius nods absently, too busy watching me with concern. “You cold?”
“A little. Mostly just still wound up from flying.” I smile at him. “It was a lot of fun.”
His lips part a little, and then he shakes out of it. “Let me get you a blanket.”
He returns a moment later with the comforter off his bed. He throws it all around me, and I laugh. “You don’t have a blanket?”
“Why would I need a blanket?”
“For comfort?”
“I’m comfortable.” I don’t believe him at all, given the furnishings in his flat, but I don’t say that.
“What about for your lady friends you bring over that might not be?”
“I don’t bring lady friends here.”
I find that unbelievable too. “Yeah, right. You’re the world’s most eligible bachelor—well, I mean, you were.” He glares and tosses a piece of chopped tomato at me. “You probably have a whole stable of lady friends.”
“I don’t, and even if I did, that’s where they’d stay—in the stables. You’re the only person who doesn’t work for me that’s come to my place.”
“I do work for you.”
He frowns. “You know what I mean.”
I don’t speak. I can only smile at him shyly as I tuck my windswept hair behind my ear. I’m sure it’s sticking out in every direction at this point, but he doesn’t look at me like I’m insulting the aesthetic of his place. He looks at me like he’s ... absorbed.
