Please, Forgive Me

Prologue

PRóLOGO

“Sometimes distance is the only way to see things clearly…”

MARIA GAbrIELA

It’s not that I hate my boss, but Diego Bittencourt is… gorgeous and impossible.

In equal measure.

I know I probably sound all over the place right now—believe me, I know—but he has this way of bringing out both the best and the worst in me. And that’s exactly what led me to the worst decision of my life.

I let myself get carried away by his hands—those strong hands that could steer the fate of entire companies and, in that moment, steered my body.

It always began the same way with us: subtle jabs, glances that lingered a second too long.

Diego was… complicated.

His stunning looks were undeniable, the kind that left you speechless the second he locked eyes with you. Tall, dark hair always flawlessly styled, features cut sharp like a Greek statue.

But the real problem wasn’t his face.

If only it were…

It was his attitude. Diego Bittencourt knew he was handsome, knew he was powerful. And that made him dangerously… narcissistic.

He carried himself with a confidence that bled into arrogance, as if the world existed solely to serve him.

And most of the time, it did.

And me? I was there to serve him too.

His secretary. His right hand. His confidante at the most inconvenient moments. Always at his side, keeping his chaos in order, absorbing the stress of running one of the biggest tech empires in Brazil.

I was supposed to be professional. To keep my distance. But that night… changed everything.

I remember exactly how it started. A business dinner, something we’d done a hundred times. He sat across from me in the hotel restaurant, soft light sculpting every perfect angle of his face, his mood unusually easy that evening.

He teased, laughed at my sarcastic comebacks. It was the dance we knew too well—a game of provocation we’d played for years.

But that night, the air between us felt charged. Maybe it was the wine I ordered, maybe the fact that we were alone in a luxury hotel, far from the grind of the office.

Everything seemed more intimate, closer. And then he looked at me… that piercing stare he only gave when he wanted to push my limits.

“You know you look beautiful tonight, don’t you?” he said casually, like it was nothing.

My heart lurched.

He never spoke to me like that—never that directly. Usually, he kept the ice, the cool professionalism beneath the banter. But this time, his voice carried something different.

Heat. Danger.

I tried to hide behind my usual sharp humor, the only weapon that gave me the illusion of control.

“And you’re still unbearable, as always,” I shot back with a small smile.

But inside, I was unraveling. My body reacted to him in ways I couldn’t disguise.

When dinner ended, he walked me to his room as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and before I could process a single thought, his mouth crashed onto mine.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t tentative. It was a claim. Fierce, consuming—like everything Diego did. He pulled me against him, his hands gripping my waist with a certainty that stole my breath, and right then, I knew I was done for.

I should have stopped. Should have said something sane, something safe.

But the truth? I didn’t want to. As wrong as it was, I wanted it. I wanted to feel wanted by him, even if it was just for a night.

He laid me down, and every touch burned the world away. His weight above me, his hands mapping every inch, the intensity so sharp it felt like time itself had stilled.

I wanted him just as much as he wanted me. But beneath it all, something held me back…

I had feelings for him. Real, tangled, dangerous feelings. And I knew he didn’t share them.

He was Diego Bittencourt—the man who never attached, never let go of control.

And I knew to him, this was nothing more than one night.

Still… I let it happen.

When his lips crashed onto mine, time ceased to exist. The kiss was raw, laced with a hunger that set me ablaze.

His tongue tangled with mine as if he meant to devour me whole, stealing every breath, every sound.

He commanded me with his mouth, setting the pace, tearing gasps from my throat I couldn’t hold back.

His broad hands slid over my waist, climbing my back—hot, insistent, possessive. Every touch seared my skin like a brand, staking his claim.

When Diego lifted me, my legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and the hard press of him against me ripped a broken moan from my lips. The sound was low, desperate—and it made his eyes darken with a hunger that nearly swallowed me whole.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he growled against my mouth before kissing me again—deeper, rougher, almost savage.

His lips burned a path down my neck, teeth grazing sensitive skin, tongue tracing fire over every inch. Then he marked me, sucking hard, leaving proof that this night was his. My body arched, begging for more, helpless against the urgency blazing between us.

My hands roamed his chest, down to the hem of his shirt. I yanked it up, impatient for bare skin. He gave a hoarse, wicked laugh before tearing it off in one swift move. His torso pressed to mine, solid and scorching, left me dizzy—every hard line, every curve designed to unravel me.

His mouth returned to mine, then drifted lower, teasing down the swell of my breasts.

First featherlight kisses, then fierce, claiming pulls that dragged shameless moans from me.

My fingers tangled in his hair as he played me with maddening precision, alternating between torment and tenderness—like he knew exactly how to push me to the brink.

He was relentless, commanding… but beneath it, I felt something raw. A need stripped bare, almost unhinged—as if, with me, he’d lost the control he guarded so fiercely.

And in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not tomorrow. Not the fallout. Just the way he consumed me… and the way I surrendered.

And I surrendered completely.

Now, alone in my bed after everything, I knew nothing would ever be the same.

I couldn’t stay in that company—not after this. Not when my feelings had already sunk deeper than simple lust. And the cruelest part was knowing he didn’t feel the same.

Diego Bittencourt was Diego Bittencourt.

He would never change.

I closed my eyes and breathed deep. I had to walk away. Had to escape before I shattered completely.

And yet… his touch lingered. The way he made me feel wanted burned through me, impossible to erase. Even knowing that, to him, it was only one night, for me… it had rewritten everything.

The truth was brutal: I’d fallen for my boss, a man who would never love me back. And no matter how much it tore at me, I had to move on. Even if part of me still begged for the opposite.

But there was one thing he didn’t know—one secret I’d told no one.

By the end of the month… I’d be gone.