CHAPTER 7
“True victory is mastering yourself…”
MARIA GAbrIELA
Another week ahead, and with it, the mountain of work that seemed to multiply every time I blinked…
By the time I got to the office, everything was running at the same frantic pace. Documents, reports, endless emails, and a thousand other things.
It was all part of the routine, but what really kept me on edge were the constant rounds of banter with my boss.
That man seemed to feed off my irritation—which, I had to admit, wasn’t entirely a bad thing. There was something addictive about our dynamic.
He walked into my office with that trademark half-smile, the one that told me he knew exactly the effect he had on me. He was holding a new stack of papers which, of course, could only mean one thing: more work for me.
“Good morning, Gabriela. Ready to kick off another wonderful week?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
I lifted my eyes from the computer screen, arching a brow.
“Wonderful, huh? Maybe for you,” I muttered with a sigh. “For me, it looks like this week is shaping up to be a marathon. And I’d bet that stack in your hands is only the beginning.”
He chuckled, the sound low and almost… disarming. Irritatingly so.
“Of course it’s just the beginning,” he said, setting the papers on my desk. “But you know I only give you more work because I trust you’ll handle it perfectly.”
“Oh, wow. I’m flattered,” I shot back, flipping through the first document. “Though I’m not sure that compliment will be enough to get me through this pile by the end of the month.”
Diego crossed his arms, studying me with that look—a mix of amusement and something heavier I could never quite pin down.
“Who said it has to be finished this month?” he asked, one eyebrow raised. “We still have the next. The year’s far from over.”
I rolled my eyes, but a small knot twisted in my stomach.
The thought of keeping up this pace for another month wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. Not with everything I’d been feeling lately. Diego noticed the flicker of discomfort—he always did—and of course, he didn’t let it slide.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, leaning in slightly, his eyes fixed on me in a way that made me feel strangely exposed.
“Nothing,” I blurted, too quickly, dropping my gaze back to the papers. “Just tired, that’s all. It’s a lot.”
I hoped he’d let it go, but naturally, my boss wasn’t the type to drop things so easily. Especially not with me. He was good at reading people. Too good.
“Tired… or thinking about something else?” His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper, as if he were trying to pull me back into the moment.
I drew in a long breath, forcing myself to keep control.
But ever since that weekend… ever since we’d crossed the line I swore we never would… everything had shifted. And he knew it.
Maybe he was even enjoying the fact that I was trying so hard to keep things professional while he insisted on pushing, prodding, testing me at every turn.
“Tired,” I repeated, more firmly this time, lifting my eyes to meet his. “Work is just work, Diego. Let’s keep it that way, ok?”
He studied me for a few seconds longer, weighing me, and then finally gave a small nod—as if satisfied to let it drop. For now.
“Fine. We’ll keep it that way,” he said with a faint smile before stepping back. “But if you need help finishing that pile… you know where to find me.”
I rolled my eyes again, but even after he left, the weight of his presence lingered.
It was always there—something unsaid, hanging between us like static in the air.
And as I turned back to the stack of papers, I couldn’t help but think that if we kept this up, something was bound to explode.
For now, though, I could still pretend everything was under control.
At least until the next time he walked through my door.
“What a day…” I muttered as I dropped into a chair in the company cafeteria beside Nancy.
I let out a sigh, letting my body sink for a moment before even thinking about food.
Nancy sat across from me, cutting into her salad with surgical precision. She was my complete opposite in almost every way.
Tall and slim, with jet-black hair always pulled into a flawless bun—never a strand out of place.
Her brown eyes, framed by thin glasses, were sharp and perpetually alert.
She worked in finance and had the kind of mind built for numbers, which fit perfectly with her methodical, systematic personality.
“Don’t even get me started,” Nancy replied without looking up from her plate. “We’re in the middle of the quarterly close, and apparently, people still haven’t figured out how to organize numbers properly. It’s maddening.”
I rolled my eyes in solidarity.
I knew her job demanded an almost obsessive level of precision, and this wasn’t the first time she’d complained about colleagues who couldn’t stick to protocol.
“Maddening is putting it lightly,” I said, picking up my fork. “Trust me, I know what it’s like when people only deliver half of what they’re supposed to. I’m drowning in paperwork, and Diego’s only making it worse.”
Nancy finally looked up, raising a brow with that ever-analytical expression of hers.
“You’re talking about him again,” she said flatly. “Don’t you think you’re letting this whole thing with Diego drain too much of your energy?”
“If only it were just my energy.” I sighed, poking at my food. “It’s like he goes out of his way to make everything harder. And at the same time…” I hesitated, debating whether I should keep going.
Nancy didn’t need much time to finish the thought for me—practical as ever.
“…at the same time, you can’t pull away because he challenges you in a way no one else does,” she said, direct as always.
Nancy never wasted words on emotional detours. It was one of the reasons our friendship worked. She grounded me when I started getting lost in my own head.
I gave her a sheepish smile, knowing she was right.
“Yeah. Exactly that,” I admitted, staring at my plate as if the answer might be hiding there. “I’ve thought about quitting, you know that. But at the same time… I feel like there’s still so much I could learn. And I can’t just walk away from a job because of him.”
Nancy shrugged, as if the solution were obvious.
“Then do what you came here to do. Learn what you need to, move on, and don’t get involved,” she said, turning her attention back to her salad. “Keep it professional. Don’t let that attraction complicate things more than they already are.”
I watched her, admiring how easily she separated personal from professional. I knew she was right—but living it was never that simple.
There was something between me and Diego, something that pulled me back every time I tried to put up a wall.
“You make it sound so easy,” I murmured with a humorless laugh.
Nancy actually smiled—rare for her.
“I never said it was easy,” she countered. “But since when has ‘easy’ ever been interesting?”
I rolled my eyes but laughed, because she was right again. She always was. Nancy was the voice of reason I needed, even when everything inside me was urging me in the opposite direction.
“You’re awfully wise today,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.
She gave me the faintest smile before going back to her lunch.
“Someone has to be the voice of wisdom, since you insist on diving headfirst into chaos,” she said in her usual pragmatic tone.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I shot back sarcastically. But deep down, I knew I needed these conversations with her.
She reminded me of who I was, of what I wanted, and that there was still time to figure out my own path.
And as we kept eating, our conversation drifting between work frustrations and lighter topics, I felt a little more centered.