<b>Chapter 138 </b>
Nivera stirred awake to an empty bed. Hershes fluttered open slowly, her body heavy, deliciously heavy, the way it always was after Alejandro.
For a moment, she couldn’t even move. The muscles in her thighs ached, her skin was oversensitized, and her lips still tingled as though his <b>mouth </b><b>had </b>branded them permanently.
When she finally stirred, her gaze fell on the space beside her–it was empty, the sheets cool where he had once been sprawled after he was done with
<b>her</b><b>. </b>
She blinked, disoriented, before turning to nce at the clock on the nightstand.
Three in the afternoon.
Her eyes widened before narrowing into disbelief.
Her eyes widened slightly. She had slept the entire morning away.
She let her body sink back into the sheets, and a smile appeared on her face.
Heat rushed to her cheeks as the memories came in fragments, blurry at the edges but sharp where it mattered most–his hands, his voice, the way <b>he </b>had worn her out until her body trembled and begged for mercy she hadn’t wanted to grant.
She remembered giving in, though, because he hadn’t given her a choice. She remembered how her pride cracked beneath his relentless push<b>, </b>how he’d pulled every ounce of strength from her until she was nothing but his tomand.
And after… yes, after, faintly, she recalled him. A blurred moment of gentleness she hadn’t expected. Him cleaning her up with movements that were strangely careful and strangely patient, though she had been far too tired to react.
Her lids had been heavy, her body deadweight, but even through the haze she’d felt it–the soft press of a cloth against <i>her </i>skin<b>, </b>the coolness of water, his hands smoothing sheets around her when all she could do was drift into oblivion.
The thought made her cheeks heat, and she pressed them into the pillow with a foolish grin.
Her <i>lips </i>curved in a smile she didn’t even try to fight. ‘Cloud nine‘ was too small a phrase for where she floated.
Dragging herself from the sheets, she rose slowly, legs weak but her heart light.
The floor was cool beneath her feet as she padded out of his bedroom and into hers<b>, </b>straight toward the bathroom.
A <i>hot </i>shower. That was what she needed. To wash away the sweat of morning, to steady herself, and to relive every second again and again beneath the spray of water.
And so, she did.
While steam curled around the ss and droplets rolled down her skin, Nivera leaned her head back, eyes closing as memories rushed again.
She should have been ashamed, or at least conflicted, but she wasn’t. Not right now. She felt cherished in some strange, twisted way, even if she knew Alejandro’s world was far from safe.
Even if she knew his hands could just as easily destroy as they could soothe.
She let the water cleanse her, her smile lingering, unaware of the storm that was quietly brewing in the mind of the very man <b>she </b>basked in.
Meanwhile<b>, </b>across the city, Alejandro sat in his office, <b>a </b>stack <b>of </b>papers before him, untouched.
13:46 Wed <b>20 </b>Aug 20, D
<b>Chapter </b><b>138 </b>
DO
<b>He </b>should <b>have </b>been working. His desk was stacked with contracts<b>, </b>bnce sheets, and reports requiring signatures. <b>Emails </b><b>pinged </b><b>softly </b>in the <b>background</b>. The empire never stopped moving.
<b>And </b>neither did his mind.
He twirled the pen in his hand, but the ink hadn’t touched paper in over an hour.
But today, despite the numbers in front of him, despite the endless responsibilities that demanded his focus, his thoughts were elsewhere.
They kept circling back, like vultures that refused to scatter, to the conversation with Antonio.
You’re in love with her, aren’t you?
Alejandro dragged a hand down his face, exhaling harshly. He had said it half in jest, half in disbelief, yet the silence that followed–the way Antonio hadn’t denied it–still gnawed at him.
Love. Antonio had actually admitted it.
His brother’s words echoed with unwee persistence: “More than anything.”
The way Antonio had said it, the way his face had softened when speaking about Zabelle<b>, </b>unsettled Alejandro more than he cared to admit.
Antonio–the unmovable, the controlled, the man who never faltered–had confessed something Alejandro had believed impossible. He was in love.
Love.
Alejandro scoffed aloud, the sound harsh in the quiet office. He leaned back in <b>his </b>chair, fingers drumming against the polished wood as his thoughts turned darker.
Love was nothing more than weakness wrapped in pretty lies. He had seen it, lived around it, and watched men crumble for it.
Love dulled edges, made men foolish, and made them gamble with everything they’d worked to build. His father had drilled that lesson into him young: love was a leash, a distraction, a crack in the armour of a powerful man.
And yet Antonio–his iron–willed, ruthless brother–was bending beneath it.
Alejandro’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t decide if it was infuriating orughable. Antonio, the one who for years had control and focus, now undone by a
woman.
Love was a leash. A chain.
And Antonio had slipped it willingly around his neck.
Alejandro leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking as he stared at the ceiling. He should beughing. He hadughed earlier, but the sound had tasted bitter in his mouth. Because what unsettled him wasn’t Antonio’s weakness.
It was the thought that if Antonio–his unshakeable, cold–blooded brother–could fall… then so could he.
His thoughts immediately shifted to her–to Nivera.
The way she had looked this morning–utterly spent, so delicate under the sheets, her body still trembling from the morning.
The faint memory of adjusting the nket over her, of closing the curtains to shield her rest, of lingering just a little too long before <b>leaving </b><b>the </b><b>room</b>.
<b>The </b>memory hit him with an intensity he didn’t like.
<b>He </b>shifted ufortably in his chair, jaw clenching tighter.
That… was not him,
13:46 Wed 20 Aug
<b>That </b><b>was </b><b>not </b><b>Alejandro </b>Garcia<b>, </b>the man who took what he wanted and moved on, who never lingered, who never gave a damn beyond the satisfaction <b>of </b><b>possession</b>.
<b>So </b>why had he lingered?
The thought rattled him..
Was he bing like Antonio? Was she doing to him what Zabelle had done to his brother–chipping away at the armour he had forged for years<b>? </b>
Alejandro sat up sharply, shaking his head
as
thou
Iphysically rid himself of the thought.
No. Absolutely not.
That wasn’t love. That was satisfaction. Possess
Control
And yet…
Antonio had said something simr once, hadn’t he? Before admitting what it really was. A little care here, a little indulgence there. That’s how it started.
Alejandro pushed the thought away sharply, almost violently. He wasn’t Antonio. He would never be Antonio.
He would never–could never–fall in love.
Love wasn’t for men like him. It was for dreamers, for fools, for those willing to bleed themselves dry for another person.
That wasn’t him. He was built of sharper things–power, ruthlessness, hunger. Love didn’t belong in his world, and if it ever tried to creep in, he’d crush it
before it had a chance to grow.
Still, the possibility lingered.
Antonio hadn’t nned it either. He’d fallen, hard, fast<b>, </b>unreasonably. Which meant it could happen to anyone. Even him.
The thought rattled him more than he wanted to admit.
His mind betrayed him, conjuring the image of Nivera smiling softly in her sleep<b>, </b>curled against the pillows like something fragile, precious.
The image unsettled him more than any business rival ever had.
he’d built his entire life?
<i>What </i>if–what if she became that for him? What if she wormed her way past the walls
His chest tightened.
No. He’d rather die.
He shot forward in his chair, shoving the papers aside and dragging a hand through his hair. He could never allow that possibility.
Antonio’s slip was his warning, his reminder. The idea of him–Alejandro García—falling in love wasughable—impossible. Dangerous.
He would never allow it.
If anything, the very thought hardened something in him. A resolve, cold and sharp, like steel forged in fire, the same way it had hardened in him years
ago.
If Antonio had fallen, that was his mistake. Alejandro would not follow. He would make damn sure of it.
Whatever was happening with Nivera, whatever strange satisfaction he felt i
having her <b>near</b>, it would not be mistaken for love.
He would keep her exactly where she belonged–in his bed, in his world, under his control. Nothing more.
Because if he ever slipped–if he ever allowed himself to feel the way Antonio felt for Zabelle–he knew it would be the end <b>of </b>him.
<b>3/4 </b>
<i>Chapter </i>138
And Alejandro García never bowed. Not to men, not to enemies, and certainly not to love.
His lips curved into a cold smile as he finally forced himself back to work, the pen gliding over paper with deliberate strokes.
But <i>deep </i>beneath the surface, the seed of fear remained, unacknowledged.
A sloping path had beenid before him, and though he refused to see it, he was already walking it.