A Dance with Danger

Chapter Fifty

**Estelle’s POV** 

The aftermath of last night came crashing down on me like rough waves. The flashing neon lights, the bass pulsing through my veins, the drinks—too many drinks—flooded my mind in disjointed memories. But beneath it all, one thing remained clear. 

That text. 

It had slithered its way into my thoughts the second I woke up, twisting my stomach in knots. Even now, lying in the safety of our bedroom, wrapped in the silk sheets of our bed, I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had been lingering since last night. 

I reached for my phone, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. My fingers moved swiftly over the screen as I checked in with the girls. 

Estelle: You guys good? 

Olivia:Yeah, woke up with the worst headache though. Harmony made us drink that devil tequila. 

Harmony: I don’t even drink tequila, Olivia. 

Rielly: I TOLD you guys to pace yourselves. But did anyone listen to me? Nooo. 

Olivia: Says the girl who flirted with the bartender for free shots. 

Harmony:We all saw you, Rielly. 

Rielly: Fine. But that’s beside the point. 

Estelle: Did you all get home safe? 

Harmony: Yeah. I made sure everyone got into an Uber. Your husband’s guys were lurking outside, by the way. 

Estelle:They weren’t lurking. They were making sure you were safe. 

Rielly: Same thing. 

I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. They were fine. That was all that mattered. 

I shifted slightly in bed, careful not to wake Tiberius, but I knew better. He wasn’t really asleep. He was too much of a light sleeper for that. 

“Your breathing changed,” he murmured, his deep voice still thick with sleep. 

I turned my head slightly, finding him lying beside me, eyes still closed but very much awake. His dark hair was tousled against the pillow, and the morning light cast a soft glow over his sharp features. 

“Did it?” I asked softly, feigning innocence. 

His eyes opened then—dark, piercing, knowing. “Something’s on your mind.” 

I hesitated. Tiberius wasn’t just my husband. He was a man who had built his life on control, power, and ruthless efficiency. There was very little he didn’t know, very little he didn’t have control over. And yet, here I was, holding onto something I should have told him last night. 

I swallowed, fingers tightening around my phone. “I got a text last night.” 

Tiberius’s expression didn’t change at first, but I felt the shift in the air between us. He slowly sat up, leaning against the headboard. 

“What kind of text?” 

Wordlessly, I unlocked my phone and handed it to him. His eyes flicked over the screen, his expression unreadable. Then, quietly, under his breath— 

“Shit.” 

I bit my lip, watching the way his jaw clenched, his grip on my phone tightening. Tiberius rarely swore unless something truly pissed him off. 

I sat up beside him, tucking my legs beneath me. “It’s probably nothing,” I said, trying to downplay it. “Some drunk asshole at the club—”