The Billionaire's Dangerous Obsession - Chapter 36: Chapter 36

“Hmm,” Nivera mumbled sheepishly as she snuggled into her soft pillow.
Wait, her thoughts came alive after some time had passed. She was sure she hadn't slept on a bed, so where was…
Nivera woke with a jolt.
However, warmth enveloped her, a solid weight pinning her against the bed, preventing her from sitting up.
It took a second for her foggy mind to realize she wasn’t alone.
She had fallen asleep in Alejandro's room, which meant…
A slow, suffocating awareness crept over her as she tilted her head slightly and—
There he was. Alejandro.
His arm was draped possessively around her waist, his breathing deep and steady against the nape of her neck. She stiffened instantly, heart hammering against her ribs.
How had she gotten here?
She remembered sitting on the floor... refusing to look at him... the exhaustion... the bone-deep ache that had lulled her to sleep despite the fact that she was on the floor.
So how had she ended up in his bed and in his arms?
Her cheeks burned as she couldn't believe she had slept in his arms.
Moving with painstaking care, she slid from under his hold and inched her body toward the edge of the bed, wincing when the sheets rustled softly.
Thankfully, he didn't wake up.
Slowly, she swung one leg over the side, then the other, the coldness of the marble floor a sharp shock against her bare feet.
She was almost there. All she needed was just to take a few more steps, and she would be out of the room.
"Doing the exact thing that got you cuffed in the first place," Alejandro's voice rumbled low and amused behind her.
Nivera froze, every muscle locking in place.
She hadn’t even heard him wake.
"Tiptoeing like a thief," he continued lazily, the bed creaking slightly as he shifted. "You really don't learn, do you?"
She turned her head, glaring at him over her shoulder. He was awake, propped on one elbow, tousled hair falling over his forehead, an infuriating smirk curving his lips.
"You carried me to your bed," she stated with uncertainty, wanting him to confirm it.
He shrugged, utterly unbothered. "You fell asleep like a stray kitten on the floor. I had two choices: leave you there to freeze or bring you somewhere warm. You should be thanking me."
Nivera stared at him, stunned at the audacity.
"And before you even think about bolting," he added, voice sharpening just a fraction, "understand something, Nivera.
You're not leaving. Not unless I say so."
Hatred surged in her chest, hot and wild. But she clamped her lips shut, not trusting herself to speak.
"Good girl," he murmured mockingly, as if he could read her thoughts.
"Now, get out of my room; it has had enough of your presence,” he dismissed sharply, and Nivera didn't waste a single second in getting out of there.
What was the point of stopping her from leaving if he was just going to send her away?!
Of course, it was all about control and him having the power.
She reached her room in no time, as it was the closest to Alejandro's room, and as soon as she was in, she stood motionless for a long moment.
Then, slowly, she approached the mirror above the vanity.
Her reflection startled her.
The marks from the cuffs were angry and red against her delicate wrists.
Her hair was a tangled mess. Her lips were chapped, and her mascara had smeared, leaving behind a mess.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she turned toward the bathroom.
The hot shower was bliss, stinging against raw skin but washing away at least a little of the grime—and the shame—that clung to her.
She stood under the shower far longer than necessary, eyes closed, letting the water scald her clean.
When she finally emerged, skin pink and tender, she froze as a fresh set of clothes was neatly folded on the edge of the bed. Simple and comfortable.
When had he brought them?
How hadn’t she heard him?
A shiver ran down her spine—not from cold, but from the chilling realization:
Alejandro could move like a shadow when he wanted to.
And she was utterly at his mercy.
She had no choice but to get dressed. The clothes felt strange against her freshly cleaned skin, but at least she no longer felt like a caged animal.
She then proceeded to dry her hair and mentally prepare herself to deal with Alejandro.
When she finally mustered the courage to leave the room, she found herself on the way down.
Alejandro was already there, standing near the grand staircase, dressed immaculately in a tailored dark grey suit.
He looked powerful. Untouchable. Like a man who owned everything—and everyone—around him. He did.
The moment he saw her, his expression shifted.
He smiled, but it wasn’t kind. It was a razor’s edge—sharp and cutting.
Wordlessly, he stretched out his hand toward her.
Nivera hesitated, every instinct screaming at her not to give in to whatever game he was playing.
But pride wouldn't feed her, and it didn't save her the previous night.
So, with slow, careful steps, she approached and placed her hand in his.
His fingers closed around hers immediately and firmly.
Without a word, he pulled a small container from his pocket—ointment, she realized—and unscrewed the lid.
Nivera tried to tug her hand back instinctively, but his grip tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her who was in control.
"You can barely look after yourself," Alejandro muttered, voice low. "Someone has to do it."
Was he really blaming her for his actions?!
He dipped two fingers into the ointment and began applying it to the raw skin around her wrists.
The touch was almost... gentle. Almost.
A confusing warmth spread up her arm, and she hated the way her body betrayed her, leaning slightly into the contact even as her mind screamed to pull away.
Alejandro’s face was unreadable as he worked, his thumb brushing lightly against her pulse point, sending a shiver skittering up her spine.
It was infuriating—this sudden tenderness, this fleeting softness in a man who had shackled her like a criminal.
Just when she thought she couldn’t take the thick silence stretching between them any longer, his phone buzzed sharply in his pocket.
Alejandro exhaled through his nose in irritation but fished it out, glancing at the screen.
His mouth curled into something that almost looked like amusement.
"Well, well," he said. "It seems we have a visitor."
He looked up at her, dark eyes gleaming.
"Your father’s at the gate."
Nivera’s heart slammed into her ribs, and her eyes widened in horror.
Matthew Elton coming to see Alejandro didn't in any way mean good news.
“Don't let him in,” she said pleadingly to Alejandro, as she didn't want to have to find out why he was there.
Alejandro pocketed the phone and spoke into a nearby intercom without missing a beat: "Let him in."
Nivera's mouth dropped open, and she glared at him, wanting to rip that smirk off his face.
Fuck you! She cursed in her head, and she looked at the stairs, wondering if she could make a run for it.
However, when she looked back at Alejandro, he had this mad look in his eyes as if praying for her to run.
"Not running?” His lips curled in disappointment as he began to walk. “Shall we, Cabezota?"
Nivera didn’t respond.
She simply squared her shoulders and followed him, praying—desperately—that somehow, some way, her father would change his mind and leave.
But deep down… she knew it was like asking for a superpower.
When she got out, they waited for about a minute before she saw a car approaching them.
Run! The voice in her head said and it didn't sound like a bad idea anymore.