A Dance with Danger

Chapter Nineteen

**Estelle POV**

He left me on read!

My fingers hovered over the message I’d sent nearly thirty minutes ago, the one I had *desperately* hoped would be met with something—anything. A reply. An acknowledgment. But instead, the cruel silence stretched on, mocking me.

I stared at the empty screen, my stomach twisting with frustration. How had things gone so wrong? Just an hour ago, everything was perfectly aligned. The venue, the host, the plan… *all of it.* And now? It was all unraveling, and I was standing here, looking like a fool.

The host—his name wasn’t even worth remembering—was still chatting away, smiling as though everything were fine. Meanwhile, I was burning inside, my thoughts racing, struggling to form the words that would fix this mess.

But before I could speak, Tiberius appeared at my side.

“Estelle,” his voice was low, just enough for me to hear, but it carried a weight that was both commanding and intimate.

I turned to face him, irritation boiling over. He had a way of always showing up at the most inconvenient times, his presence heavy with that unnerving sense of control he wielded so effortlessly. I wasn’t in the mood for it.

Her eyes met mine, blazing with a fury I couldn’t decide if I admired or found downright inconvenient. I wasn’t in the mood for either. “Tiberius,” I bit out, my tone sharper than intended. “Care to explain why I’m standing here looking like an idiot while *he*”—I gestured toward the host, who was still *grinning* as if he hadn’t just tossed me aside like a scrap of paper—“tells me this venue is suddenly unavailable?”

Tiberius didn’t flinch, didn’t bat an eyelash. His gaze shifted toward the host, who now wore a tight, strained smile. The poor bastard had no idea how badly he’d just messed up. Tiberius, though… he wasn’t one to make threats lightly, and everyone knew that.

“I’ll handle it,” he said, his voice carrying an unmistakable finality that left no room for argument.

My eyes narrowed, disbelieving. “You’ll handle it?” I repeated, skeptical. This was too big, too far gone for anyone to just “handle” it with a snap of their fingers. But with Tiberius, sometimes—just sometimes—it worked that way. And that only made me more irritated. Because as much as I hated to admit it, I *needed* him.

I stepped closer, lowering my voice, careful to keep it only for his ears. “Do you trust me or not?” he asked, those sharp eyes locking onto mine, a challenge I couldn’t refuse.

I hesitated. The fiery anger that had built up in me was beginning to waver. There was a moment, fleeting but real, when I saw something else in his eyes—something softer, more vulnerable. It didn’t last long, but long enough for me to second-guess myself.

“Fine,” I said, my voice tight with both frustration and resignation. “But if you don’t fix this—”

I didn’t even get to finish. He was already turning away, dismissing my concerns as easily as he did everything else. “I will.”

I stood there, watching him walk toward the host, his posture straightening as Tiberius approached. I could feel the energy shift, the air growing heavy, thick with the kind of tension only he could create. Whatever happened next would be a spectacle, and I had a front-row seat. I didn’t like that I couldn’t predict what would happen. I liked even less that Tiberius thrived in this chaos.

After hours of tense deliberation and no small amount of frustration, Tiberius and I had finally come to a conclusion. We’d made the decision to move our reception away from the unreliable host and venue—his shady dealings had only served to underscore what I already knew.