A Dance with Danger

Chapter Thirty-Eight

** Estelle POV**

I jolted awake as the sun's light pierced through the curtains, the intense heat making my head throb. Pain shot through my throat and down into my chest, a sharp reminder of the events that had transpired the night before.

Had I drank too much? Did I smoke? Was I ambushed? The questions swirled in my head, but I couldn’t grasp an answer. My body felt like it was still recovering from some kind of storm.

The curtains flew open with the breeze, and I turned my head, squinting as my eyes adjusted to the light. There, sitting in one of the polished chairs by the window, was Tiberius. His dark gaze met mine with an air of complete calmness, as though nothing was out of the ordinary. He was nursing a glass in his hand, his fingers lightly tracing the rim.

“Rough night?” he asked, his voice smooth and laced with amusement. The weight of his words crushed down on me, and I felt my cheeks flush, the images from the previous evening flashing in my mind. I opened my mouth to speak, but the words died on my tongue.

"I— we—" I started, but the sentence trailed off as the gravity of the situation hit me. What had we done? How had we gotten here?

Tiberius quirked an eyebrow, his smirk growing. “We? We what, Estelle?” He repeated, his tone laced with knowing amusement. His eyes didn’t leave mine, and suddenly, it was impossible to lie. He knew exactly what had happened.

I bit my lip, the silence stretching between us as I desperately searched for something to say, anything to break the tension. But nothing came to mind. The weight of his gaze held me in place, and I couldn’t escape the dark corner of my own mind that was still trying to piece together what had transpired. 

His smirk never wavered, and I could feel the amusement radiating off him as if he found my discomfort a source of entertainment. But I wasn’t laughing.

"Come on, Estelle," he finally said, the casualness in his voice only makes me feel more vulnerable. "You can say it. We both know exactly what happened."

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Why do you always do this to me?” I finally muttered, my voice barely whispering.

Tiberius didn’t respond right away. He just watched me with that calculating look in his eyes, as if he were dissecting me, piece by piece. Then, with deliberate slowness, he set his glass down on the side table and stood up, closing the distance between us in a few long strides.

He reached out, tilting my chin up with a finger. The touch was gentle but possessive, like a warning. His eyes bored into mine, and for a brief moment, I saw something almost... tender. But it was fleeting, gone as quickly as it came.

“I do it because you like it,” he said, his voice low and firm. “And because you’re mine.”

I could feel my heart racing again, the weight of his words sinking in. He wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

“I don’t belong to you, Tiberius,” I shot back, my voice shaky but defiant. "I'm not some object to be claimed."

His smirk deepened, and for a split second, I wondered if I’d said the wrong thing. But then his lips curved into a smile that was more dangerous than comforting.

“We’ll see about that,” he said quietly, and I felt my breath catch in my throat.

He pulled away from me then, pacing back across the room, and I couldn’t help but notice the way his movements commanded the space, every step full of power and control.