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THE BILLIONAIRE’S OBSESSION WITH GREEN

Iran_Thorne
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Synopsis
THE BILLIONAIRE’S OBSESSION WITH GREEN Joseph León was the most feared name in oil — Mexico’s oil tycoon with empires that stretched across oceans. His name opened doors in Dubai, whispered in Geneva, and commanded boardrooms in Texas. But in the private sanctum of his glass-walled penthouse above Mexico City, the only thing that brought him to his knees… was Green. Green Ariza. The sharp-tongued, warm-eyed girl from the southeast — who didn’t care for oil, power, or the billions in his offshore accounts. And that terrified Joseph more than any corporate war. She stormed into his office, her heels clicking furiously against the Italian marble. Her worn leather bag slammed onto the chair with finality. “I want to talk to you, Joseph!” she snapped. Behind his desk, Joseph was mid-call with a venture capitalist from Qatar, trying to lock in a deal worth $1.3 billion. He held up one finger without looking up — only for a second — then paused. His eyes met hers. Sharp. Furious. Tired of something. He ended the call. “I’ll speak to you later,” he said calmly, before the voice on the other line could protest. “Yes, I know it’s urgent.” He hung up, removed his glasses, and leaned back in his chair. His gaze softened. “What does my love want that has her so upset?” he asked, like the storm in her eyes didn’t scare him. “A Maserati? Givenchy? My black card is right there—just whisper what you want, and it’s yours.” Green exhaled, shaking her head. “I’m not here for gifts, Joseph.” “I know.” “No, you don’t. You always think money can fix things.” “I absolutely don’t think that.” “You bought the company I worked for because I said I was scared of getting fired—how is that not thinking money fixes things?” “I bought it,” he said quietly, “because it was the only way I could keep seeing you. You were avoiding me. Saying you couldn’t risk your job. So I made it yours. You’re head of creative strategy now. With triple your old salary. And you only work when you want.” She turned away, rubbing her forehead. “Green,” he said, his voice a low murmur now. “Can I touch you?” She blinked at him. “Are you asking permission to touch me?” “You usually get angry when I touch you during a fight,” he said honestly, standing slowly. “You say I use it to make you forget why you’re mad.” “…Because you do.” “And you let me.” She turned to face him, and for a moment, neither said a word. He reached out, gently, his hand grazing her elbow. “So tell me, why are you really angry?” She looked away. “Is it because of the girl at the gala?” he asked. Her head snapped back toward him. “She’s like a sister. My father’s goddaughter.” “She was holding your hand.” “She’s grieving. Her brother was assassinated in Bogotá.” Green stepped back, arms folded. “You don’t even see how many women throw themselves at you. My mother tells me I’m stupid for staying. That I should leave you and marry someone safer. Someone like Don Frederick.” Joseph’s jaw tightened. “Don Frederick is a snake with a fake smile and a poisoned chalice. He’s not safe, he’s subtle. That’s worse.” “My mother doesn’t care,” Green said bitterly. “She only sees headlines. And dollar signs.” “What do you see?” he asked, stepping closer. “When you look at me. What do you see?” She didn’t answer. He touched her cheek, gently. “Do you think I’d let myself love anyone but you? I’d burn down every oil well I own before I lose you.” She blinked. “Don’t say things like that.” “Why? Because you believe me?” “No,” she whispered. “Because I do.”
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Chapter 1 - CHAPTER 1 — The Girl at the Gala

Green Ariza's phone wouldn't stop vibrating. It buzzed so violently against the marble countertop that it nearly flung itself to the floor.

17 messages. 34 new notifications. 5 missed calls.

She didn't need to open any of them. The headline had already clawed its way into her chest.

"Billionaire Joseph Leon Spotted Holding Hands With Mysterious Brunette at Gala"

"Oil Mogul or Playboy?"

"Where Was His Girlfriend?"

Her heart wasn't breaking—no, it was something quieter. Heavier. Not just jealousy. Not just humiliation. It was the weight of knowing what the world now thought was true.

The living room door creaked open, and her mother stepped in—poised, pristine, and perfectly dressed in a flowing white designer gown. Her sleek bob grazed her jawline like it was sculpted into place. Her heels made soft, polished clicks as she glided into the room.

She didn't sit. She perched on the suede couch like a queen on her throne, legs elegantly crossed.

"You're a fool if you stay, Green," she said smoothly. "You saw the pictures. The world has seen them. And you're still here."

Green didn't look up from her phone.

"Don Frederick would marry you tomorrow. Do you understand what that means?" her mother pressed. "He's offering you stability. Prestige. Legacy."

Green's head rose, her voice low. "So what's your cut of the deal?"

The woman's eyes narrowed, but she kept her tone even. "I get to watch my daughter become a woman who thinks with her head, not her heart."

Green stood slowly, holding her phone like a dead weight. "Joseph Leon is the reason I'm even in this house. He's the reason you walk around in couture. The reason Frederick even knows who I am. You act like he owes me—but it's me who owes him everything."

Her mother's jaw twitched. "He's a stepping stone, not a destination."

Green's voice cracked like glass. "He's my reason."

The words hung there.

Green sat on the edge of the couch, her gaze drifting to the blurred reflection of herself in the mirror across the room. No tears. But her heart? Bruised. Burning.

She remembered his warning—that night on the penthouse rooftop. When he'd wrapped his coat around her shoulders and kissed her temple beneath a string of lights that flickered like stars.

"Don Frederick will destroy you to get to me."

"Promise me," Joseph had whispered, his hands warm against hers. "Promise me you won't ever let him come between us."

Now, that promise felt just like paper in a hurricane.

The image replayed in her mind—the brunette woman on Joseph's arm at the gala. The way she smiled up at him, possessive and pleased. The headlines called it intimate. Intentional. And Green couldn't lie to herself—the woman was stunning. Polished.

But even as she studied the image again, something stood out:

Joseph never looked her in the eye.

Not like he looked at Green.

Not like she was the only one in the room.

Still, doubt crawled into her bones.

—-

She stormed into his office, her heels clicking furiously against the Italian marble. Her worn leather bag slammed onto the chair with finality.

"I want to talk to you, Joseph!" she snapped.

Behind his desk, Joseph was mid-call with a venture capitalist from Qatar, trying to lock in a deal worth $1.3 billion. He held up one finger without looking up — only for a second — then paused.

His eyes met hers.

Sharp. Furious. Tired of something.

He ended the call. "I'll speak to you later," he said calmly, before the voice on the other line could protest. "Yes, I know it's urgent."

He hung up, removed his glasses, and leaned back in his chair. His gaze softened. "What does my love want that has her so upset?" he asked, like the storm in her eyes didn't scare him. "A Maserati? Givenchy? My black card is right there—just whisper what you want, and it's yours."

Green exhaled, shaking her head. "I'm not here for gifts, Joseph."

"I know."

"No, you don't. You always think money can fix things."

"I absolutely don't think that."

"You bought the company I worked for because I said I was scared of getting fired—how is that not thinking money fixes things?"

"I bought it," he said quietly, "because it was the only way I could keep seeing you. You were avoiding me. Saying you couldn't risk your job. So I made it yours. You're head of creative strategy now. With triple your old salary. And you only work when you want."

She turned away, rubbing her forehead.

"Green," he said, his voice a low murmur now. "Can I touch you?"

She blinked at him. "Are you asking permission to touch me?"

"You usually get angry when I touch you during a fight," he said honestly, standing slowly. "You say I use it to make you forget why you're mad."

"…Because you do."

"And you let me."

She turned to face him, and for a moment, neither said a word.

He reached out, gently, his hand grazing her elbow. "So tell me, why are you really angry?"

She looked away.

"Is it because of the girl at the gala?" he asked.

Her head snapped back toward him.

"She's like a sister. My father's goddaughter."

"She was holding your hand."

"She's grieving. Her brother was assassinated in Bogotá."

Green stepped back, arms folded. "You don't even see how many women throw themselves at you. My mother tells me I'm stupid for staying. That I should leave you and marry someone safer. Someone like Don Frederick."

Joseph's jaw tightened. "Don Frederick is a snake with a fake smile and a poisoned chalice. He's not safe, he's subtle. That's worse."

"My mother doesn't care," Green said bitterly. "She only sees headlines. And dollar signs."

"What do you see?" he asked, stepping closer. "When you look at me. What do you see?"

She didn't answer.

He touched her cheek, gently. "Do you think I'd let myself love anyone but you? I'd burn down every oil well I own before I lose you."

She blinked. "Don't say things like that."

"Why? Because you believe me?"

"No," she whispered. "Because I do."