The Billionaire’s Obsession with Green Ariza

Green's heels clicked against the marble floor of the apartment lobby, but her steps were uneven.

She was shaking.

The cold from outside clung to her skin, but it wasn't the weather that made her tremble—it was the guilt.

Joseph's message still echoed in her mind:

"Did you enjoy dinner with my enemy?"

She swallowed hard, her hand hovering over the doorknob of the penthouse.

This apartment—his apartment—had been gifted to her.

Furnished with velvet couches, abstract art, and light fixtures that cost more than her entire past life.

She didn't deserve to walk into it tonight.

Still, she opened the door. Slowly.

The scent of wine hit her first. Then the silence.

Then him.

Joseph.

Sitting on the couch. His legs crossed. A crystal glass of red wine in his hand. His other hand resting on the couch's edge—tense.

He didn't look up.

Green froze in the doorway.

"How did you know?"

Her voice cracked as it cut through the silence.

Joseph finally looked at her.

His eyes were unreadable—glassy, tired, but not empty. Never empty.

They burned.

He didn't speak at first. Just watched her.

"It wasn't what you think," she blurted.

"I was out… with my mom. She wanted me to meet someone about her charity foundation."

She lied. Badly.

Her voice lacked conviction, her hands trembled, and she didn't even believe herself.

Joseph didn't blink.

"Your mother's charity?" he repeated. "That's what you're going with?"

She looked away.

Joseph leaned back, exhaling slowly, gripping his wine glass tighter.

The veins on his hand stood out.

"Our date was set. I had the chef, the wine, the dress delivered—your favorite color. But you…"

He paused.

"You chose him over me."

His voice was quiet. Too quiet.

That kind of calm that only came before a storm.

His eyes shimmered. Red. As if holding back something far more dangerous than tears.

"Green," he said again, softer. "Why?"

She stepped toward him. Her knees still weak.

And then she did the one thing that made it worse—

She hugged him.

"I'm sorry you feel this way," she said, her voice gentle… and maddeningly dismissive.

Joseph didn't move for a second. But then—

He held her back.

So tightly, it was as if letting go would kill him.

"You don't understand what it does to me… seeing you with him," he whispered into her hair.

"I've lost someone to him already. I can't lose you too."

She bit her lip, feeling the tears burn behind her eyes.

"The surgery?" she asked. "My uncle—"

"Done," he interrupted.

"I settled everything. Twice over."

She blinked.

"You… what?"

"There's nothing he can offer you that I can't give tenfold," Joseph said sharply.

"I don't want your gratitude. I want your loyalty."

She opened her mouth, trying to form an apology.

But Joseph silenced her the only way he knew how—

He kissed her.

Hard.

The kind of kiss that wasn't sweet or slow.

It was desperate. Demanding. Possessive.

The kind of kiss that said, I am not letting you go. Not without a fight.

She kissed him back.

Her hands tangled in his hair, her lips trembling against his.

And for a moment—just one—they were okay.

—-

Green sat curled up on the velvet couch, Joseph beside her, his hand resting lightly on her thigh—possessive but gentle. The apartment was quiet except for the low buzz of the city outside, and the steady sound of Joseph's breathing, which was growing shallower the more she spoke.

"Someone sent me a photo," she said softly, unlocking her phone.

She handed it to him.

The screen lit up with the image: her and Joseph, captured through a telephoto lens— in the apartment, kissing. Last night when they made love.

Joseph's jaw clenched.

The air seemed to shift.

"This wasn't taken by paparazzi," he said, voice flat.

"This was sent. Planted."

Green watched his expression—controlled, but his fingers twitched against his thigh. Rage was simmering.

He stood abruptly and dialed someone.

Fast. Sharp.

"Ken, I want every CCTV footage near 9th and River. I want to know who leaked the photo with my woman. Tonight."

His voice was cold steel.

He hung up and turned back to her.

"It's starting again," he muttered. "They're watching you to get to me."

Green blinked.

"What is?" she asked, her voice small.

He walked into the kitchen. Moments later, he returned with a cup of steaming coffee—black, just the way she liked it. He set it on the table, then knelt in front of her.

His eyes were darker now. Haunted.

"Do you know why I bought this apartment for you?" he asked.

"Because it has no windows facing the west. That side of the city belongs to them now. Cameras. Eyes. Microphones hidden in lights. They even hacked my pilot last year."

"What…?" she breathed. "Who are they?"

"People I once shook hands with. People like Frederick."

He took a shaky breath and reached for her hand.

"I'm paranoid, Green. And I have every reason to be. They're not just watching me anymore. They're watching you."

There was silence.

Then his voice dropped lower.

"I love you, Green. I can't stop doing so. Even when it hurts."

He twirled a strand of her hair between his fingers, eyes locked on hers like she was his only clarity in a burning world. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek—soft, tender.

But when he pulled back, his expression shifted.

"Have you eaten?"

She hesitated.

His lips flattened.

"Right. You probably did… with him."

His voice cracked at the end, just like a bruise pressed too hard.

Then, suddenly:

"I'm starving," he muttered, more to himself than to her. He rubbed his stomach with a weak laugh. "Isn't that pathetic?"

Green rose without a word and walked into the kitchen.

"I'll cook," she said. "Let me."

He stared after her for a second—genuinely stunned.

Like no one had ever offered that before.

They moved quietly, her pulling ingredients, him watching her like she was a miracle. Like someone too good for the world he belonged to.

And just as the scent of garlic and butter filled the air, Joseph returned to the kitchen and placed a single paper on the counter.

"This," he said, "is a protection contract. It goes through my lawyers, and it names you as a silent partner in one of my holding companies. It gives you immunity if anyone ever comes after me again."

She stared at it.

"Joseph—"

"Sign it or don't. Just know I'm not giving them a single piece of you. Ever."

Green stared at the contract.

Then she looked at him.

"You're scared."

He didn't deny it.

"Aren't you?" he asked.

Before she could answer, her phone buzzed.

Another message.

From an unknown number.

"You think signing his paper protects you? Sweet girl.

It only makes you more valuable to destroy."