CHAPTER 1
“Love is born from the ashes of our greatest defeats…”
MARIA GAbrIELA
“Gooood morning… the sun is up on the little faaarm…”
Don’t ask me why, but that song is always the first thing in my head when I wake up. Honestly, I can’t tell if I should check myself into a clinic or just laugh like a lunatic.
I went with the second option. Getting committed would be way too much trouble—and really, I’d rather laugh a thousand times than cry once.
I looked out the window of my apartment in Florianópolis. No ocean view, sadly, but I still liked what I saw: buildings, the city in motion, the promise of a brand-new day. Life here could get chaotic, but I always found a way to handle it with a bit of lightness.
Because honestly—if you can’t laugh at life, then what are we even doing here?
Today I slipped into a breezy, floral dress I’d grabbed from one of those can’t-miss online sales.
Perfect for the weather here—light, loose, and it made me feel like I was heading to a picnic instead of the office.
I paired it with simple strappy sandals and my old watch, the one I bought back when I still believed I’d be a businesswoman.
I guess I still have that dream…
Maybe it’s just been sleeping under the mess of my routine.
While waiting for the bus, of course I was already humming another tune—because let’s face it, my life might as well be a private musical. The bus pulled up at 7:30 on the dot, like always, and I claimed my usual window seat.
In a way, that daily ride had become my little pocket of reflection—or more often, a chance to get lost in daydreams I’d never admit out loud.
I actually enjoy riding the bus.
Well… except for the times it’s packed and some stranger’s elbow digs into your ribs, which is almost always. Still, there’s something I like about it.
I suppose I could be driving by now if it weren’t for… well, the debt. But I don’t dwell on that too much. I’m paying it off—slowly but surely, like my mom always says. In the end, it’ll all work out.
Or not…
So there I was, doing my best not to think about Diego—my boss, of course—and failing spectacularly. He had this maddening way of sneaking into my thoughts at any hour, like he had a spare key to my brain.
Didn’t matter how much I tried to distract myself with the rhythm of people outside or the blur of buildings—he always came back.
Not healthy. I knew that. But since when are feelings rational?
Still, fine. Life was full of challenges, and I liked to believe I could handle anything.
And I was determined. Today was going to be a good day. I’d walk into that office, ignore Diego’s smug little smile, and just do my job.
Just one more month.
I could survive that… right?
“Is that really what you call work clothes?!”
Diego Bittencourt.
My boss. The source of my wildly inappropriate thoughts—always mixed with a generous dose of irritation.
He was leaning against my desk, arms crossed, wearing that look that reminded me exactly who held the power here, but at the same time managed to seem almost… playful.
I lifted my eyes from the computer screen and stared at him for a few seconds while he scanned me from head to toe, that infuriating half-smile tugging at his mouth. The one I hated. Or maybe loved. Honestly? I couldn’t tell anymore.
The problem with Diego was his beauty, which only made things worse. Thirty-five years old, tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair always perfectly styled, and eyes that, depending on the light, could scatter my focus in an instant.
Everything about him was perfectly proportioned—and matched only by his arrogance and unbearable narcissism. Narcissus didn’t stand a chance against him. Seriously.
“Oh, right. Because you, Mr. Bittencourt, are the ultimate icon of corporate fashion, aren’t you?” I shot back, pulling a face before turning to the stack of papers on my desk.
I knew he wasn’t actually worried about my clothes. He just liked to provoke me. He did it every single day—a ritual of light but relentless torture.
Diego chuckled, that low, husky sound that made my stomach flip without my permission.
Damn it.
I hated when he laughed like that. It was far too charming for someone so impossible.
“I’m just saying…” he stepped closer, slipping his hands into the pockets of his impeccably pressed slacks, watching me work, “you know I prefer when you’re not wearing something quite so… distracting.”
“Oh, sure. Totally my fault, isn’t it?” I arched a brow, finally meeting his eyes again. “Maybe if you spent more time on your work and less on me, your life would be a whole lot easier.”
His smile widened, amusement lighting his expression.
Diego might have been impossible, but he was sharp. He knew exactly what he was doing—and the worst part was, so did I.
As much as I wanted to walk away from Amacel Corporation—his company—he had a way of making that feel almost impossible.
He was the kind of boss who never let anything slide, and I knew that behind all the teasing there was something more. Maybe a need for control.
Or maybe he just liked seeing me push back.
“My life’s already too easy,” he said with a smirk. “But you definitely make it more interesting.”
“Great, Diego. That’s exactly what I live for—being the highlight of your day while I drown in endless papers and emails. Now, if you don’t mind…” I lifted one of the documents for emphasis, “I’ve got a meeting to prep.”
He laughed again, shaking his head slightly, but let it drop. He returned to his desk with that confident stride he loved to flaunt, as if the whole world belonged to him. And, in a way, it did—at least this world.
Diego and his twin brother, Alexandre, owned everything here. Every decision, every strategic move, passed through them.
And me? I was just the secretary making sure the chaos stayed in check. It wasn’t my company, but I knew that if I wanted to, I could learn enough to start something of my own someday.
Lately, though, it had been hard to keep work and Diego separate.
Not exactly healthy.
Which was probably why I’d started thinking about moving on. Even if the paycheck was solid and the experience was priceless, I knew mixing business with… whatever this was… never ended well. And with Diego, those lines blurred more every day.
Yeah… little by little, I was falling for my boss. And knowing how he was—with life, with women—I really should get out and find a job that didn’t get in my way.
I sighed.
So, another day of thinly veiled barbs and crooked smiles. Sometimes it felt like we’d been doing this for decades, not just a handful of years.
The most irritating part was that, behind all the arrogance and razor-sharp wit, Diego could actually be funny. He knew how to make me laugh, even when I swore I wouldn’t.
The truth was, as much as he drove me insane, part of me already knew I’d miss these provocations the day I finally walked away.
But for now, here I was. Secretary to a gorgeous, impossible boss. Ready for another round of battles disguised as work. And deep down, maybe I liked it more than I cared to admit.
Still, I wasn’t backing down. Thirty more days—and then I’d be free.
Him and the debts, both.