The Billionaire's Dangerous Obsession (Nivera) novel Chapter 177

Chapter 177

Chapter 177

Nivera froze where she stood, h

bare feet damp against the hardwood as the steam rolled off her skin.

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The towel wrapped around her clung to her frame, heat rising in her cheeks at the sight of Marceline filling the doorway.

The older woman’s eyes flicked between them–Alejandro bare–chested with a towel slung dangerously low at his hips, and Nivera fresh from the bathroom, her wet hair dripping down her shoulders.

Marceline’s brow arched, sharp enough to slice, but her lips curved into something deceptively sweet.

“Oh,” Marceline said softly, as though she’d only stumbled on something mildly out of place.

“I see I should have knocked.” Her gaze lingered, and the corner of her mouth twitched upward with amusement. “My apologies. Clearly, I interrupted… something.”

Nivera wanted the floor to split open and swallow her whole. The humiliation burned hotter than the bath had. She clutched the towel tighter around her, her face flaming as though she had been caught in an act she couldn’t name.

Marceline tilted her head, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips. “Well,” she added, “I suppose congratulations are in order -for you two resolving your differences and well… other victories.” She let the implication hang deliberately, then stepped back with practiced grace. “I’ll wait downstairs. Take your time.”

And with that, she turned, the soft click of her heels echoing down the hall.

Alejandro exhaled slowly, about to say something–likely something that would make her even redder–when Nivera

bolted.

“I’m going to my room,” she blurted, not daring to look at him.

His brows shot up, but before he could tease her, she rushed past him, disappearing into the sanctuary of her room down

the hall.

Inside, Nivera pressed her back against the door and let out a shaky breath. Her reflection in the mirror across the room mocked her–flushed cheeks, damp hair, lips slightly parted from the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

What had she done?

She sank onto the bed, burying her face in her hands. Getting into the tub with him… leaning against his chest… letting herself forget, even for a moment, that she was supposed to be cautious.

The memory replayed in vivid flashes–his hand circling her waist, the rumble of his chest when he called her nervous, the way her heart had raced.

She groaned into her palms. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

But the truth was obvious, even if she didn’t want to name it: she hadn’t wanted to be alone. She wanted him. His presence, his warmth, his maddeningly steady protection. And she hated herself for it, even as her chest tightened with the thought of losing it.

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Chapter 177

After a long moment, more like five minutes, she dragged herself up, forcing her thoughts into order. She couldn’t hide here all day especially as Marceline was downstairs, waiting.

Nivera dressed quickly and, brushing her hair into a sleek ponytail. She glanced once more at her reflection, trying to compose herself, but the faint pink on her cheeks betrayed her.

That didn’t look like it was going to leave anytime soon.

Taking a breath, she left her room.

When she finally emerged, her timing couldn’t have been worse–Alejandro stepped out of his own room at the same time, crisp shirt halfway buttoned, his damp hair slicked back.

Their eyes met and for a heartbeat, silence reigned. His eyes flicked over her, lingering a fraction too long, and her cheeks flared red again.

“Ready?” he asked, his tone casual as though they hadn’t just spent time naked in each other’s arms.

She nodded quickly. “Yes.”

They descended together, his hand brushing briefly at the small of her back as though to guide her. She tried to ignore the jolt it sent down her spine, but her body betrayed her, warmth pooling in her cheeks once more.

Marceline was waiting in the sitting room, a delicate bouquet of pale roses in her hands.

“Ah, there you are,” she said warmly, rising as they entered. She stepped forward, extending the flowers toward Nivera. “Congratulations, dear. You were spectacular last night. Everyone is talking about you.”

Nivera blinked, caught off guard, but managed a polite smile as she accepted the bouquet.

She had been so occupied by the chaos happening around her that she had forgotten to check what people’s reaction to her returning to the runway was.

The fact that Marceline brought flowers to celebrate warmed her heart. “Thank you… they’re beautiful.”

“They suit you,” Marceline said.

Before the moment could stretch further, Nivera’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She glanced at it, her expression shifting as she read the name.

“Celeste,” she murmured. “I–I should take this.”

Marceline inclined her head. “Of course, darling.”

Nivera stepped aside, answering the call. Her voice dropped, low and urgent, and after a few moments she returned, her face pale but composed.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, glancing between the two. “I have to go. Something came up.”

She leaned forward, pressing a quick, kiss to Marceline’s cheek. “Thank you again for the flowers.”

Chapter 177

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With a polite nod to Alejandro, she hurried out, bouquet in hand, the front door closing softly behind her.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Marceline’s smile, warm and maternal moments ago, vanished as she turned to her son.

Alejandro leaned lazily against the banister, watching his mother with narrowed eyes. He knew that look. It was the same one she wore whenever he had gotten into trouble with her.

“Who beat you up?” Marceline asked calmly, as though inquiring about the weather.

Alejandro stilled, his expression carefully blank. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” she repeated, her voice edged with disbelief. Her gaze swept over him–the bruises, the faint stiffness in his movements, the shadows under his eyes. “You think you can stand in front of me, your mother, and tell me this is

nothing?”

He shrugged, unbothered on the surface. “An unfortunate incident. It’s handled.”

Marceline’s lips thinned. “Handled,” she echoed bitterly. “Alejandro, don’t tell me you’ve gone back to street fighting. Not after all these years. I thought you’d have gotten over it.”

His mother was no stranger to his habits of getting into fights to blow off some steam. Due to how worried she was about it, he simply pretended to stop.

And had she not walked in on him shirtless, she wouldn’t have known he had gotten himself beat up.

His jaw ticked, irritation flashing across his face. “No. It wasn’t that.”

“Then what?”

He hesitated a fraction too long, and that was enough. Marceline’s eyes narrowed, her instincts sharp. “You’re lying.”

“I’m protecting you,” he simply said.

Her brows shot up. “From what? From knowing what my son is tangled in now? Do you forget who raised you? Who taught you to hide the bruises, to swallow the blood, to fight harder when the world tried to break you? Don’t insult me by pretending I can’t stomach the truth.”

Alejandro exhaled, running a hand through his hair. There was no way he would be able to explain to his mother that he purposely got beat up to get Nivera’s attention.

“It doesn’t matter. Whoever it was, they won’t try again.”

Marceline studied him, her silence heavy, then shook her head. “You’ll be the death of me one day,” she muttered under her breath and Alejandro rolled his eye’s over her being dramatic.

“You didn’t come here for this,” he deflected. “Why are you really here, Mother? After the stunt you pulled–hiding Nivera, meddling–what do you want now?”

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