A Dance with Danger

Chapter Thirty

**Estelle POV** 

"Brazil?" I asked, glancing up from my laptop. The plush chair I sat in did little to comfort my growing frustration as Tiberius, my husband of exactly three weeks, flipped through a stack of papers at his desk. His brow furrowed in concentration, and for a moment, I wondered if he even heard me. 

"No," he said curtly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. 

I frowned, scratching Brazil off the list with a sigh. It wasn’t just a random suggestion—it was on my bucket list. But then again, so were Africa, Turkey, and Italy. I tapped my pen against the notepad, determined not to let him shut down every option without a fight. 

"What about Mexico?" I asked cautiously, knowing full well the suggestion might trigger his usual brand of overprotective skepticism. 

Tiberius's pen froze mid-signature. His dark eyes snapped to mine, sharp and assessing. "I can rent a villa far away from people," he said dryly. "If you're too scared to see someone." 

My lips parted in disbelief. "Scared?" I repeated, my voice tinged with annoyance. "Who said anything about a villa?" 

His gaze softened for half a second, a rare flicker of amusement dancing across his features before it vanished. He leaned back in his chair, the dark leather groaning under his weight, and steepled his fingers as if he'd been waiting for this exact moment. 

"I have a private island," he said, his voice low and deliberate. "Why deal with crowded beaches and overpriced resorts when everything you need is already there?" 

My pen clattered onto the desk as I sat back in shock. "A private island?" 

"Yes, my *island*," he said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "Complete privacy, no prying eyes, and no need for a villa because the main house is already equipped with everything you could want." 

"And you're complaining about overpriced resorts?" 

I stared at him, trying to process the casual arrogance dripping from his tone. "You've been making me wrack my brain for a destination when you've had a private island this entire time?" 

"I wasn't sure you were ready for it," he said, his lips curving into a smirk that sent my blood boiling. 

"Ready for what? A tropical paradise? The audacity of this man." I stood up, folding my arms over my chest as I glared at him. 

He tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle he couldn't quite solve. "It's not just a tropical paradise, *Malyshka*. It's mine. My rules, my terms. You'd be completely at my mercy there." 

The way he said it sent a shiver down my spine, equal parts intrigue and apprehension. Tiberius was nothing if not unpredictable, and the thought of being trapped with him on a secluded island made my stomach flip for reasons I couldn’t entirely explain. 

"Are you trying to scare me into saying no?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. 

"If I wanted to scare you, I'd do a far better job than this." His smirk deepened, and I hated how my body reacted to it. "But I'll make you a deal. Come with me, and if you don't like it, we'll leave. No arguments, no questions asked." 

I hesitated. Tiberius wasn’t exactly known for keeping his promises, but there was something in his expression—something softer than usual—that made me want to believe him. 

"Fine," I said, holding my ground. "But if I hate it, we’re going straight to Brazil." 

He chuckled, low and dark. "Deal."