The Billionaire's Dangerous Obsession (Nivera) novel Chapter 111

Chapter 111

The car glided down the quiet streets, the deep hum of the engine muffled behind the tinted windows.

Inside, the atmosphere was heavier than the night sky outside.

Nivera sat rigidly beside Alejandro in the back seat, her hands tightly clasped in her lap.

Her jaw ticked, her eyes repeatedly cutting sideways at him with growing irritation.

Her posture was tense with barely concealed annoyance. She looked nothing like the composed, radiant woman who had prepared hours earlier for the dinner at her family mansion–all thanks to Alejandro.

He’d chosen the absolute worst time to get intimate with her–again. And now, after hastily taking a bath to clean herself up, she looked a mess, at least in her own eyes.

There hadn’t been time to fix her hair properly, redo her makeup, or even select a new dress that matched her usual elegance. She felt off balance. And it was his fault.

Meanwhile, the devil looked infuriatingly at ease. He wore loose black pants and a crisp shirt–untucked, with the first two buttons undore, revealing a sliver of skin and a chain against his collarbone.

He looked like a man heading to his own lounge, not an aristocratic family dinner.

He held a tablet in his hands, scrolling through something mindlessly, his thumb gliding over the screen in no apparent hurry.

Martins sat in the front seat beside the driver, silent but aware.

Every so often, his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, where the reflection of his boss sat casually reclined, scrolling through his tablet like they weren’t minutes late to a family dinner hosted by one of the most powerful patriarchs in the city.

Alejandro felt her eyes on him again. This time, he didn’t ignore it. He sighed dramatically and turned to her, tilting his head.

“Is there a reason you’ve been glaring at me like that for the last ten minutes?” he asked, voice maddeningly light.

Nivera clenched her fists, glanced briefly at the back of Martins‘ head, then muttered in a low but sharp voice, “We’re late,”

Alejandro lifted a brow. “And whose fault is that?”

She gave him a pointed look. “Yours.”

That was when his smirk deepened, and a mischievous glint danced in his eyes. “You were the one who begged me to fuc-”

She lunged without thinking, slapping her palm across his mouth before he could finish the sentence, as her cheeks flamed instantly. “Shut up!” she hissed,

Alejandro’s brows rose, clearly amused. He let her hand linger on his mouth for a moment, his gaze unreadable, before she snatched it back.

She glared at him, then flicked her eyes toward Martins and the driver, both of whom were staring dead ahead like they hadn’t heard and under what Alejandro had wanted to say–but she wasn’t stupid. Alejandro hadn’t exactly whispered.

The satisfied glint in Alejandro’s eyes said he knew it too.

Flustered and furious, she turned sharply to face the window, focusing on the blur of the night–lit city.

She tried not to dwell on how he had kissed her palm moments ago or how he seemed completely unaffected–while she felt like her nerves were hanging out of her skin.

Silence filled the car again, save for the gentle hum of the engine and the occasional turn signal. Minutes later, the iron gates of the Elton family estate came into view, and Nivera sighed as the sight of it made her stomach twist,

The wrought–iron gates slowly peeled open, revealing the mansion she had grown up in. Cold, beautiful, and suffocating.

The sleek black car pulled up to the front of the grand staircase moments later..

Alejandro fingers shut the tablet, and he looked over at her.

Her hand had gone limp in her lap, and her posture–so upright before–now looked like she was folding into herself. Her breath hitched once, subtle but noticeable.

“We’re already late,” Alejandro said, his voice low. “Wasting more time trying to gather your composure is pointless.”

Nivera’s head snapped toward him, and a harsh whisper slipped out before she could stop it. “You’re infuriating.”

“I’ve been told,” he replied, utterly unfazed.

She pushed the door open and stepped out.

Alejandro chuckled softly as he glanced toward Martins. “Be careful,” he said. His voice dropped an octave. “And alert the boys to be ready. Just in case.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alejandro then got out, adjusted his shirt, and walked over to where Nivera stood frozen at the base of the stairs.

Without a word, he reached out, wrapped his fingers around her hand, and led her forward.

The door opened before they reached it, and standing there, tall and mighty, framed by the marble arch and chandeliers, was Matthew Elton.

Nivera swallowed hard.

“You’re late,” her father said, his deep voice unamused and perfectly calm–a tone far more terrifying than outright anger.

Alejandro’s lips curved smoothly as the mask everyone knew and loved was back on. “We had a little… wardrobe malfunction. Couldn’t let my woman come here anything less than radiant, now, could I?”

Matthew’s eyes narrowed, as he could see the possessive tone in Alejandro’s voice especially as he said ‘my woman‘ but he stepped aside to let them in.

“Everyone’s already at the table,” he said. “Let’s not waste any more time.”

The hallway was as grand as ever–white marble floors, gold fixtures, and oil paintings of long–dead ancestors watching over them with eyes full of judgement.

Nivera’s heels clicked against the stone as she led Alejandro through the corridor. Her hand was still in his, though her palm had gone clammy.

When they entered the dining room, she saw them immediately.

Her mother, her older brother, Liam, and her sister, Vivian.

And sitting beside Vivian, dressed in an expensive navy suit and smiling politely as if he belonged there, was Silas Monroe.

His gaze lifted from his plate the instant they walked in. There was a flicker of something in his eyes–surprise, longing, maybe even anger–but it was gone too fast to decipher

The room spun.

Her blood turned to ice as her lungs refused to pull in air.

She froze, her feet stopping short on the polished floor, her hand falling from Alejandro’s.

Alejandro noticed the change in Nivera before he noticed anything else.

His eyes slid from her tense face to the line of her gaze… and then to the man who had just looked up to meet Nivera’s eyes.

He felt the way her body stiffened.

The man tilted his head, studying her with mild interest. But Alejandro was watching closely enough to catch the twitch in his expression–the subtle satisfaction in his smirk, the flicker of tension in Nivera’s jaw.

He moved without speaking. His hand slid behind her back, not roughly, but deliberately.

She jolted at the touch as a tiny gasp escaped her lips, and she snapped back into her body.

Alejandro leaned close, whispering just beside her ear. “You know I’m here?!”

It wasn’t a question; it was his way of reassuring her, and it meant a lot to her.

“Nivera, Alejandro, Come. Sit,” Aria said to them.

There were two empty seats at the long mahogany table–directly across from Silas and Vivian.

Alejandro, still observing Nivera with laser focus, gently nudged her forward. She walked stiffly to her seat, taking it without looking up. Alejandro sat

beside her with deliberate calm.

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