The Billionaire's Dangerous Obsession - Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Alejandro looked at the woman who seemed ready to kill him, and oddly enough, the sight made him smile.
It was cute to see her like that because, as fierce as her glare was, they both knew it was all she could do, but it wouldn’t change anything.
She was trapped in his web. He had made sure of that.
He had taken her passport and her cash, not out of cruelty—well, maybe a bit out of cruelty—but mostly because he had no intention of letting her disappear again.
His men had already informed him that she lived in a rundown apartment on the far side of the city. A place so small and dilapidated it was almost laughable.
She wouldn’t be applying for a new passport any time soon. And the three thousand dollars he’d taken from her? That was probably all she had to her name.
And if it wasn't, he would make sure he stripped her of everything.
Meanwhile, Nivera took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down before she said something that would make her situation worse.
She could feel the anger bubbling in her chest, itching to come out in the form of insults and curses.
But one look at his relaxed posture, the way he leaned against the wall with casual dominance, and she knew better. He’d strike back ten times harder.
Why was she so afraid of him, when not even her father could control her fully? She was always quick to rebel against him, but her tongue seemed to be tied when it came to the man.
Still, something burned in her throat. A need to break the silence.
“Will an apology fix all this?” she asked finally, her voice tight. It was a long shot, but if it would, she was prepared to kneel and apologize so he would just leave her alone.
Alejandro tilted his head slightly, as if considering it. “Yes,” he said after a few seconds.
Her eyes lit up for a split second, hope blooming in her chest, but then he spoke again.
“But only if it makes me feel good.”
She blinked in confusion. “What?”
“You heard me.” His lips curled into a slow, mocking smirk. “Apologize in a way that massages my ego. Maybe then I’ll consider being merciful. If you’re lucky.”
“You’re unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath.
“That’s what they say.”
Nivera was about to retort, not caring about the consequences, when her stomach growled—loudly.
The sound echoed in the room, followed by an awkward silence.
Alejandro raised an eyebrow, clearly having heard it. “Hungry?”
Nivera hesitated. Pride clawed at her throat. But her stomach answered for her again with another angry rumble.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Alejandro said dryly. “How dignified. Well, unless you can make food appear out of thin air, you're on your own.”
Nivera's face immediately burned with embarrassment. What a fucking rude man! “Fuck you!”
If he was going to kill her, she might as well let him have a piece of her mind.
However, he didn’t respond. He just turned and walked away, leaving her alone in the living room.
She stared after him, teeth clenched. The urge to run hit her like a wave. But then she remembered how long the drive was from the gates to the main mansion—they were practically in the middle of nowhere, as she didn't see any other houses on their way there.
Not to mention, no passport and no cash. Her plan died before it could take root.
Left with nothing else to do, she slumped back on the couch and pulled her phone from the duffel bag.
Surprisingly, it still had some battery. She tapped into her browser and searched the name that had been looming over her thoughts since this nightmare began.
García.
It was only one name, but within seconds, dozens of articles popped up as well as names related to the Garcias.
She scrolled until she found whom she was looking for. ‘Alejandro Garcia,’ Nivera muttered under her breath.
Images flooded the screen—a younger Alejandro in tailored suits, flashing dimples at paparazzi; Alejandro at charity galas, laughing with politicians and supermodels alike; Alejandro lounging on yachts with sunglasses and too many shirtless friends.
The captions painted him as the golden boy of the García family. The fun one. The charming one. The one who could get away with anything because everyone adored him. Even the ones who should hate him.
"Alejandro García, youngest heir to the García fortune (by just an hour, insiders say, to his cousin Antonio), continues to prove he is both the life of the party and the heart of the family."
"Known for his boyish grin and effortless charm, Alejandro is the kind of man who lights up every room. Whether it's his flirty banter with reporters or his cheeky social media captions, the world can't seem to get enough of him."
Nivera’s mouth dropped open as she continued to read.
She stared at the image of a smiling Alejandro holding a glass of champagne, his arm slung casually over a model’s shoulder.
This was him? The same man who had dragged her into his car, taken her passport, and insulted her within an inch of her patience?
Where the hell was the “jovial” personality? There was no way they were describing the man she knew.
He was nothing short of an arrogant, rude, insufferable, spoiled brat. She could go on, but she would run out of adjectives to describe just how terrible he was.
Just as she scrolled down further, she remembered his words to Nathaniel back in the asshole’s penthouse.
“I assume you didn’t think I was going to shoot because of my playful reputation.”
“Big mistake… That reputation? It’s a farce. I am just as much of a devil.”
Nivera sat back slowly, chills skating across her skin.
Back when he had said so, she didn't understand what he meant by that. However, it all made sense now.
The duality. The facade.
The public got the charming, smiling version of him. The man in the photos who laughed too loud and danced too much. But behind closed doors, when no cameras were watching, he was something else entirely. Calculated. Cold. Deadly.
He let the world think he was harmless. That way, no one ever saw him coming.
That reputation? It’s a farce.
She stared down at the phone, breath caught in her throat.
Now she fully understood what kind of man she had messed with.
‘I'm fucking doomed,’ was all she could say.