The Billionaire's Dangerous Obsession (Nivera) novel Chapter 151

Chapter 151

The room was cloaked in shadows, the only source of light coming from the large flat–screen television mounted on the wall

On the screen, Alejandro sat in a tailored suit, exuding charm and authority as he gave an interview to a polished reporter who laughed too easily at his words.

The camera zoomed in on his sharp profile, the commanding set of his jaw, the arrogance hidden beneath the easy smiles he offered the public.

From the comer of the dim room, a man leaned back in an armchair, his form a silhouette against the shifting glow of the television.

A half–filled glass of whiskey rested in his hand, the amber liquid catching what little light there was. His gaze with admiration, but with something colder, sharper, hungrier.

He studied every twitch of Alejandro’s jaw, every flicker in his gaze, every measured word that fell from his lips.

was fixed–no, drilled–onto the screen, not

The ice in his glass clinked softly as he shifted, raising the glass to his lips. He sipped slowly, savoring the burn of the alcohol.

Even as he drank, his attention never wavered from Alejandro’s face on the screen.

The smile Alejandro flashed at the reporter drew a faint curl of distaste across the shadowed man’s mouth.

The door creaked open, spilling a thin slice of light into the room and another man stepped in, closing the door softly behind him.

He stopped beside the chair, his eyes lifting to the television. He studied the image on the screen–the very public, very powerful Alejandro–and then lowered his gaze to the man in the shadows.

“How long do you plan on watching him like this?” the newcomer asked, his voice laced with irritation. “Every night, it’s the same thing. Interviews. Reports. Security footage. When are we going to strike?”

The man in the chair didn’t move right away. He swirled his whiskey in the glass, ice knocking gently against the glass.

His silence stretched until it began to tell on the one who had just entered. Finally, he set the glass down on the table beside him and leaned forward, his face still hidden in shadow.

“If I wanted to attack Alejandro,” he said at last, his tone quiet but edged with steel, “I would have done so a long time ago.”

The standing man frowned, impatient. “Then what are we waiting for? Every day we stall, he grows stronger, harder to touch. People fear him. He thrives under attack. He’s not going to break easily.”

The seated figure tilted his head, as if acknowledging the truth of those words. Then, with a flick of the remote, the television screen changed. Alejandro’s face vanished, replaced instead with a new video.

Nivera.

The recording showed her at an event, smiling politely as photographers snapped their cameras, her beauty luminous even under the harsh flashbulbs.

In another clip, she walked down a runway, every inch the professional model, poised, graceful, untouchable.

Yet the man in the chair watched her with the same unyielding intensity he had given Alejandro, though this time a low hum of satisfaction rumbled in his chest.

The standing man–Victor–shifted uneasily. “Her?” he asked, disbelief curling around the single word.

“She’s nothing but a fling. Another pretty distraction he’ll discard when he’s done, like the rest of them.”

“Is that what you think?”

Chapter 151

Victor nodded. “It’s what everyone thinks.”

From the chair came a laugh–low, deep, carrying both amusement and mockery. “Victor,” the shadowed man drawled, “I have told you time and again…observe. Closely. Do not take things at face value. You’ve been watching him, but you’ve been blind.”

Victor’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, forcing himself to listen as the man continued,

“Everyone,” the man repeated, his tone thoughtful, his gaze never leaving the screen where Nivera’s figure moved across it.

He leaned back again, immediately carrying the glass of whiskey abandoned on the table.

“But you are not everyone, Victor. You are meant to see what others cannot. And what you fail to see here is the very key to bringing Alejandro to his

knees.”

Victor crossed his arms. “Explain.”

“She is not like the others. Look at him when he’s with her.” The man gestured lazily toward the screen where the video looped through clips of Nivera her smiling, her turning her head shyly, her laughter caught mid–frame.

“Do you see it? His eyes. The tension in his body when she’s near. The way he tries–oh, how hard he tries–not to care, yet he does. He cares more than he should. More than he ever has.”

Victor frowned, his skepticism battling with curiosity. “You’re saying she’s different.”

“Watch the way he looks at her. Watch the way he bends his rigid rules for her. He tolerates no one – but she is in his house and has been his woman for months now.”

“Hmm, you’re right,” Victor agreed as he pondered upon the man’s words.

“Alejandro thrives on pain. He wears it like armor. I know this, because I’ve seen it. Because I’ve lived it. If we captured him, if we broke his bones, tore his flesh, he would laugh in our faces. He has suffered before. He has survived before. It would mean nothing.”

The man leaned forward, the edge of his profile barely visible in the flicker of light from the television. His lips curved into something cold, something triumphant.

He pointed to the screen, to the woman who had unknowingly become the centerpiece of their conversation.

“But if it is her…” His voice dropped to a whisper, as lethal as a knife sliding into flesh.

“If it is Nivera–if she is taken, if she is made to suffer, if she is broken–then he will unravel. Because deep inside, Alejandro knows it will be his fault. His arrogance. His violence. His inability to protect what matters.”

Victor shifted uneasily, the conviction in the other man’s voice cutting through his earlier

doubts.

He stared at Nivera’s face on the screen, radiant, oblivious, completely unaware of the danger brewing in the shadows. “You believe she’s the key.”

“I don’t believe,” the man said, rising smoothly to his feet, his tall form finally breaking free of the chair.

He picked up his whiskey, finishing it in a single swallow, before setting the glass down with deliberate care. His gaze never left the moving images of Nivera.

“I know. She is the key. She has always been the key. For years, I have waited for the right piece to fall into place, and now it has.”

He chucked before he spoke once more. “She

the weapon he never saw coming. And the beauty of it is… she doesn’t even know it herself.”

Victor’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “So what do we do? Take her”

“No,” the man said sharply, his tone cutting through Victor’s impatience.

08:11 Mon, 1 Sept

Chapter 151

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