The Billionaire's Dangerous Obsession (Nivera) novel Chapter 43

The thick silence that hung between Alejandro and Rivers in the living room was suffocating, the weight of their unspoken words hanging in thỏ sử like

smoke.

Nivera’s mind raced, still buzzing with the bitter exchange they’d just had. She could feel the remnants of anger, of frustration, and something desper Something cold and almost….terrilying–swirling in the space between them. And then, as if on cue, the soft creak of the door broke the stillness

Marceline stepped into the room, her graceful figure bathed in the soft light

Her smile was bright, her eyes warm, completely unaware of the tension that had settled like a thick fog around the room.

“Dinner’s ready,” she said cheerfully, her voice soft with the kind of warmth that only a mother could possess.

She surveyed the room for a moment before her eyes twinkled knowingly. “You two can be lovebirds later, come eat something ?”

Nivera forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She nodded, but Alejandro’s reaction was far from what she did, as he proceeded to kiss her on her temple.

It was a small gesture, but it sent her stupid heart racing.

“I’m good at multitasking” Alejandro grinned, and Nivers couldn’t help but rall her eyes.

“Mom,” he started, his tone becoming serious. “I didn’t want you to-

Marceline waved him off, not even giving him a chance to finish his sentence, as she already knew what he wanted to say.

“Nonsense,” she chuckled, the sound of her voice ringing with the authority of someone used to getting her way. “I’m sure you’re both starving. Go have your seat at the dining table.”

Alejandro’s jaw tightened imperceptibly, but he didn’t argue.

He silently took a seat at the table, his posture stiff as he crossed his arms. Nivers followed suit, sitting opposite him.

There was an odd sense of civility about the moment, as though they were playing a part in some strange performance.

Marceline humed

as she moved to serve the soup, her movements smooth and effortless, a stark contrast to the undercurrent of tension that still clung to the room like an invisible thread.

After she was done, she also had her seat, as she wanted to have dinner with the lovebirds.

“So,” Marceline began, trying to fill the silence with her light–hearted tone. “Alejandro, do you remember when you were little, and you insisted on eating nothing but soup for weeks?”

Nivera glanced up, her curiosity piqued by the sudden shift in conversation.

Any story that would help her in her pursuit of finding who Alejandro was was useful.

She saw his expression turning frosty. He didn’t respond immediately, and when he did, his words were cold.

“I’m sure I was just being stubborn, like I always am,” he muttered, his gaze hardening as he stared into his bowl.

Marceline laughed softly, clearly not catching the chill in the air,

“Oh, you were always a handful. I’d have to chase you around the house just to get you to eat anything else. Do you remember that? You used to think it was a game.”

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Chapter 43

Alejandro’s expression tightened even more, his jaw working as though lighting to keep his emotions in check.

Nivera had learned a thing or two about Alejandro’s control by now, and it was clear this memory had sen everything beneath a carefully constructed surface.

La nerve. He was a mari used to biding

Dare she say she was enjoying watching him try not to spiral and what’s

He couldn’t lash out on his mother

“I don’t,” he replied, his voice sharp and develd of any warmth. “I don’t think that’s something worth remembering”

Marceline fell silent, sensing th

the sudden change in the atmosphere, but she didn’t push it.

Instead, she focused on her soup, carefully ladling it into their bowls. Nivera felt the weight of the silence stretch on, the discomfort hanging heavily between them

I was clear to her now. Alejandro was a man who didn’t let anyone get close. Not even his mother.

Marceline, ever the peacekeeper, tried to lighten the mood. “Well, I’m sure you both have a lot to catch up on. Alejandro, you can take Nivera out sometime, show her the city,” she suggested.

There’s so much to see. Alejandro, don’t neglect your woman for your work…” She trailed off, glancing between them, not sensing the tension between the two.

Alejandro’s lips tightened into a thin line. He wasn’t about to let his mother see any more cracks. Not when they were in front of Nivera. He shifted his posture slightly and cleared his throat.

“Of course,” he said smoothly, maintaining the role he had played so well for years now. “I’ll take Nivera around when we have some free time.”

The words sounded rehearsed, even to him. But it was the part he had to play, and he would make sure that Nivera–no matter what happened between them–understood that.

wher

For now, they were a couple. She would play her part, and so would he.

Marceline smiled warmly, apparently reassured. “I’m so glad to hear it.” She made her way to the kitchen, continuing to chat about the city.

Alejandro hadn’t even locked at her. Instead, he’d fallen back into his cold, calculated façade.

Once Marceline left, Nivera glanced at him. There was no denying it now–the mask was back in place. But it only served to make the silence that much heavier.

Her thoughts swirled, and the need to understand him, to see past the mask, bumed hotter.

Alejandro stared at his bowl, his knuckles white around his spoon. He wouldn’t meet her eyes, but she could feel the coldness radiating off him.

The man who had once seemed so confident and in control had cracks, she malized. And somehow, those cracks made him more dangerous

“You shut your mother down so easily,” Nivera said, her voice steady but full of curiosity. “Why?”

Alejandro’s response was swit, a low growl of a reply that cut through the air between them, “I didn’t ask for this,” he snapped, his voice laced with frustration. “I didn’t ask for her to…hover.”

“Maybe she’s just trying to love you,” Nivera said søftly, her tone barely above a whisper.

“I don’t need anyone’s love,” Alejandro bit out. “Not from her, not from anyone.”

His words struck her like a slap. But even as he said them, there was something in his eyes–something raw, something vulnerable–that made her

hesitate.

She didn’t want to provoke him further, but the pull of understanding him was too great.

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