A Dance with Danger

Chapter Thirteen

Tiberius’ POV

The applause thundered in the grand ballroom as Ilaria stepped back from the podium, the last echoes of her speech ringing in the air. For a brief moment, the world seemed to slow. The crowd’s cheers, the soft clinking of glasses, the murmurs of admiration—they all faded into the background. I couldn’t help but watch her, my heart swelling with pride as she stood there, the weight of the evening’s success resting on her shoulders.

She had done it. She had achieved what she’d set out to do, and with such grace and poise, it almost felt effortless. The charity ball had been her dream, and now, it was a reality. She had spoken with conviction, her words cutting through the noise of the room, stirring something deep within everyone who had listened.

I could see the pride in her eyes, but there was also something else—something subtle, almost imperceptible. Beneath the composed exterior, Ilaria was still human. She cared deeply about the cause, about the children she had promised to help. And tonight, she had succeeded in making a real difference.

I couldn’t help but admire her more than I already did. She was powerful in ways I couldn’t even begin to understand, but she also had this vulnerability to her—an openness that made me want to protect her, to keep her safe from the world that could be so cruel.

As she turned to me, a soft smile gracing her lips, I gave her a small nod, my hand instinctively finding her waist. The touch was reassuring, a silent promise that no matter what came next, I would be by her side.

“Thats my girl,” I murmured, just for her, my voice low and sincere.

She glanced up at me, the faintest blush still lingering on her cheeks. “Thank you. I hope it’s enough to make a real difference.”

“It will be,” I assured her, my gaze never leaving hers. “You’ve already made more of a difference tonight than most people ever will in a lifetime.”

I could see the weight of the evening still pressing on her. She was proud, but she wasn’t done. Not yet. Not while there were still things to be done. I respected that about her—her relentless determination.

Before I could say anything more, a movement near the bar caught my eye. Archibald. My grandfather. The leech.

His presence was like a dark cloud hovering over the room, a stark contrast to the celebration that was unfolding. He was standing in the shadows, sipping his whiskey, his calculating gaze fixed on Ilaria. I knew exactly what he was thinking. The old man had never liked me, never respected me. But his animosity toward Ilaria went beyond that. It was deeper, more personal.

He thought I didn’t notice the way he had cornered her earlier, but I did. The way she had approached me afterward told me everything I needed to know. The subtle tension in her shoulders, the way she tried to brush off the encounter—she wasn’t fooled. Neither was I.

“Wait here,” I told Ilaria, my voice calm but laced with steel.

Her brows furrowed slightly, concern flickering across her face. “Tiberius—”

“I won’t be long,” I cut her off, pressing a reassuring hand to her arm before I stepped away.

I could feel her eyes on me as I walked toward Archibald, and I knew she was worried. But I couldn’t let her see me hesitate. Not now. Not when things were already this tense.

The crowd seemed to part for me as I made my way toward him, my gaze fixed and unwavering. Archibald looked up as I approached, a smirk tugging at his lips, the same smug expression he always wore when he thought he still had power over me.

“Tiberius,” he greeted, swirling his glass lazily. “You’ve been keeping an interesting guest list tonight. Your fiancée, for one. Quite the fiery one, isn’t she?”

I didn’t respond immediately. I simply stepped closer, invading his personal space, and watched as the smirk faltered ever so slightly.

“Careful,” I said coolly, my voice low but deliberate. “You’re already on thin ice, Archibald.”

He chuckled, a deep, condescending sound that grated on my nerves. “Thin ice? From my own grandson? Let’s not forget who built the foundation you’re standing on, boy. Show me respect!”

I took another step closer, my body language demanding authority. I wasn’t afraid of him. Not anymore.

“Respect is earned,” I said, my voice sharpening. “Fear is our gift.”

His smirk faltered again, just slightly, and I saw the flicker of unease in his eyes. That was the thing about Archibald. He thought he could intimidate everyone around him, but I wasn’t so easily cowed. He could try to wield his influence over me all he wanted, but I had already surpassed him in every way that mattered.

“You think you can stand against me?” he sneered. “Against everything I’ve created?”

I leaned in, lowering my voice so only he could hear. “I don’t just stand against you. I surpass you. You’re a relic, Archibald, clinging to power that doesn’t exist anymore. You can sneer and plot all you want, but you’ll never have the control you think you do. Not over me, and certainly not over Ilaria.”

His eyes narrowed, the smirk vanishing entirely. He was trying to regain control of the conversation, but I wasn’t giving him the chance. I wasn’t interested in his petty games anymore. Not when he had the audacity to treat Ilaria like she was just another pawn to be manipulated.

“That girl will bring nothing but trouble, Tiberius,” he muttered, his voice low and venomous. “Mark my words.”

I straightened, letting a slow, dangerous smile cross my face. I didn’t need to say anything more. I had already won.

“If by trouble you mean exposing your pathetic attempts to undermine this family, then I’ll take it,” I said with a quiet confidence. “She’s more valuable than you’ve ever been.”

Archibald’s grip tightened on his glass, his knuckles whitening. He was furious, I could see it in the way his entire body stiffened. Good. Let him seethe.

“You’ve forgotten your place,” he growled, his tone darkening.

I leaned in one last time, my voice sharp as a blade. “And you’ve forgotten that I make the rules now. Watch your step, or the thin ice you’re standing on will crack. Permanently.”

Without waiting for his response, I turned and walked away, leaving him seething in the corner. He could burn with his rage for all I cared. He wasn’t a threat to me anymore, and he certainly wasn’t a threat to Ilaria.

Ilaria was waiting for me when I returned, her arms crossed and a questioning look in her eyes. I could tell she was worried, but I couldn’t afford to explain myself right now. Not with everything that had happened tonight.

“What did you do?” she asked, her voice cautious, like she was testing the waters.

I slid an arm around her waist, pulling her close, feeling her warmth seep into me. I needed her presence right now. It was grounding, a balm for the anger still simmering inside me.

“Nothing he didn’t deserve,” I said smoothly, guiding her back toward the crowd, away from Archibald and his bitterness.

“Tiberius…” she began, her tone warning, but I cut her off.

“He won’t bother you again, Ilaria,” I said, my voice firm. “That’s all you need to know.”

Her lips parted as though she wanted to argue, but she stopped herself, nodding instead. “Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice small but genuine.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of polite conversations and stolen glances between us. But as we left the ballroom, I knew one thing for certain: Archibald’s days of interfering in my life—and Ilaria’s—were numbered.

I wasn’t going to let him tear us apart. Not now, not ever.