CHAPTER 8
“The words left unspoken are the ones that weigh heaviest on the heart…”
MARIA GAbrIELA
I woke up early and just stood there, staring at myself in the mirror, hair sticking up everywhere, waiting for my soul to crawl back into my body.
Not that I was ready to face another day next to Diego Bittencourt. The fact that we had to travel together again left me more than a little… tense.
There was no ignoring what had happened between us. We might have been trying to act like nothing had changed, but the truth was, everything had changed after that night.
A car came to pick me up, and there I was, slumped in the back seat, head full of thoughts and doing my best not to show how much this trip was already getting under my skin.
Before long, I was on Diego’s private jet, and the moment I glanced around, I couldn’t help the twinge of envy. His life was built on luxury and comfort, and I knew this was only one of the many perks of being who he was.
Diego sat across from me, casually flipping through a stack of documents while I tried, unsuccessfully, to lose myself in the view outside the window. But it was impossible. He was right there, so close, and even without a word, his presence filled the space.
It was like he knew exactly the effect he had on me—and enjoyed every second of it.
“Ready for another trip with the best boss in the world?” he asked, finally lifting his eyes from the papers, that smile of his aimed straight at me. The one that always, infuriatingly, disarmed me.
I sighed, forcing myself not to show how much he affected me.
“As if I had a choice, right?” I muttered, pulling a face that made him chuckle.
“Oh, come on. You know you love these trips,” he teased, leaning back slightly in his seat, his gaze steady on me, like he was waiting for a reaction. “Besides, who in their right mind would turn down the company of a famous, irresistible CEO like me?”
Narcissus himself wouldn’t stand a chance against him. Seriously.
I rolled my eyes, though the smile tugging at my lips gave me away. He knew exactly how to get under my skin, and I knew he loved it.
But there was something else now—something that had been growing ever since that night. It wasn’t just our usual banter anymore. Behind the arrogance and the narcissism, there was a flicker of something real. Something that looked a lot like concern.
“You’re even more full of yourself than usual today, boss,” I said, crossing my arms as I met his eyes. “Narcissism off the charts.”
He gave me that crooked smile—the one that always made me want to slap him and kiss him at the same time.
“And why shouldn’t I be?” His tone was playful, but there was a spark in his eyes, sharp and probing. “Though, tell me—about our last conversation… I’m not sure I believed you. What exactly are you so tired of?”
For a moment, I froze, caught off guard.
It wasn’t like Diego to press like this, not when it came to anything that sounded remotely personal. He’d always been the kind of man who thought only of himself. But since that night… he’d been letting small cracks show. A more human side, subtle but undeniable.
“Just tired in general,” I said lightly, trying to dodge the question. But I knew him well enough—he wasn’t going to let it slide.
“Tired in general?” he repeated, narrowing his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean? Tired of me—or of work?”
A short laugh slipped out before I could stop it. He always had this way of twisting any conversation into an excuse to flirt.
“Maybe a little of both,” I teased, though there was truth hiding in the words.
Diego smiled again, but his gaze softened then, almost… worried.
I could see it then—beneath all that confidence and control, there was a man who actually cared. Not just about how efficiently I did my job, but about me.
“I just don’t want you overworking yourself,” he said, his tone still light, but I could hear more in it than he’d ever admit. “You’re my right hand, Gabriela. Without you, nothing runs the way it should. Not even me.”
And that was the moment I realized that, for all the ways Diego lived at the center of his own universe, when it came to me… he saw beyond himself.
There was a care there, a concern he tried to bury under sarcasm and teasing.
“I’m fine,” I repeated with a smile, brushing off his worry. “I just need a little peace. Something you clearly don’t know how to provide.”
He laughed, that deep, infuriatingly charming laugh, leaning forward like he was about to say something far more intimate.
“Peace was never my thing,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower. “But maybe we can find some balance in all this.”
And for a moment, the silence between us wasn’t uncomfortable—it was loaded with possibility.
I didn’t know where this thin line between us would lead, but deep down, I knew that with Diego, personal and professional were bound to collide. Sooner or later.
“Tell me something, I—”
The sharp buzz of a ringtone cut me off. Diego sighed, pulling his phone from the pocket of his blazer, irritation flickering across his face—until he saw the name on the screen. Then everything softened.
“Sorry,” he said, lifting a hand, signaling the conversation would have to wait. “It’s Arthur.”
My curiosity spiked immediately.
Arthur—his son. One of the few things Diego took seriously, and yet one of the topics he almost never touched with me.
In all the years I’d worked by his side, I’d never once heard him speak about Arthur’s mother. That mystery clung to him like a shadow, a wall he refused to let anyone climb.
He answered, and the second he heard his son’s voice, a genuine smile spread across his face.
It was rare—seeing Diego like that.
So human.
Within seconds, he had relaxed into his chair, chuckling softly as Arthur’s excited voice spilled through the line.
“Hey, champ!” Diego’s tone was warm, nothing like the sharp edge I was used to in boardrooms. “You’re behaving, right? Not giving Helena too much trouble?”
I watched in silence, captivated by this other side of him. The way he spoke to his son—with patience, with gentleness—was such a stark contrast to the cold, calculating man I knew at work.
And I couldn’t stop myself from wondering, for the thousandth time, who Arthur’s mother was.
The woman who had managed to reach this softer side of him.
And why he never spoke of her.
Diego laughed again, lighter this time, almost musical, while Arthur chattered on about some childhood adventure.
“Of course I miss you too. When I’m back, we’ll go out, I promise.” He paused, listening, then smiled again. “That’s right, champ. Just… try not to drive Helena crazy, okay?”
After a few tender goodbyes, he ended the call, slipping the phone back into his pocket. When his eyes returned to me, that smile still lingered.
“Sorry about that,” he said, back to his usual tone—but softer somehow, as if part of that warmth hadn’t faded yet. “Arthur just called to tell me he won an ‘epic battle’ on his video game. He exaggerates, of course, but… I love hearing how excited he gets over the little things.”
I smiled, forcing myself to hide the questions burning inside me. It was almost impossible not to ask about Arthur’s mother right then, when he so rarely mentioned her at all. But I knew Diego guarded that part of his life, and I wasn’t sure how far I could push. Even so, curiosity gnawed at me.
“He sounds like a great kid,” I said casually, dropping my gaze back to the papers in front of me, pretending to focus.
“He is,” Diego replied, his voice still tinged with calm. “Arthur is… well, he’s the best part of my day.”
For a moment, silence settled between us again—but it felt different this time. It was the kind of silence heavy with unasked questions and unanswered truths.
I wondered if I’d ever have the courage to ask Diego what had really happened with Arthur’s mother. Or if he was just waiting for the right moment to share that piece of his life with me.
“What… were you going to say before the phone rang?” I asked carefully, trying to sound casual, though I knew nothing with him ever really was.
He looked at me with that arrogant smile I knew too well—the one that always made it seem like he was two steps ahead of me. The one that never failed to get under my skin.
“Look even more beautiful than you already do—we’re having dinner tonight,” he said, his voice low and firm, like he was laying down an order that couldn’t be challenged.
My heart skipped, but of course I couldn’t let it show.
With Diego, those so-called dinners always felt less like business meetings and more like…
dates. There was something in the way he said it, in the way his eyes held mine, that turned those moments into something far more intimate than they had any right to be.
Still, I had to cover it up.
“Is that a request?” I asked, arching a brow and folding my arms, trying to keep it light.
I knew better. Diego didn’t request things. He gave orders—and everyone knew it.
“I don’t request. I give orders. You should know that by now,” he said, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips as he waited for my response.
I rolled my eyes, but the smile creeping across my face betrayed me.
“If you keep this up, Bittencourt, you’re going to end up without a secretary,” I teased, though the seriousness beneath my tone was undeniable.
I knew I couldn’t play this game forever. Eventually, I’d have to make a choice, no matter how much the thought terrified me.
“Oh, but you’re not going to leave me, Gabriela,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost a whisper—but steeped in certainty. “You know why? Because you love this just as much as I do. And more than that… you know no one else could ever take your place.”
I stared at him in silence, caught in the weight of his gaze.
There was something there that completely disarmed me, something that made me doubt every decision I thought I’d made.
And deep down, I knew he was right.
I did like what we had, no matter how complicated it was. No matter how hard I tried to resist, there was an undeniable pull between us—something that dragged us back together, over and over again.
“I think you’re overestimating your powers of persuasion, boss,” I finally said with a wry smile. “But fine, I’ll consider dinner—just to keep up the tradition of disagreeing with you.”
He laughed, that deep laugh that always lingered in the back of my mind long after he was gone.
“As you wish, Maria Gabriela,” he said, settling back into his chair and turning his attention to the papers in front of him. “Just don’t take too long deciding. Patience has never been one of my strengths.”
I smiled, shaking my head as I turned back to my own work, pretending to focus on what actually mattered.
But I knew the truth.
It was only a matter of time before the line between professional and personal vanished completely.
And maybe—just maybe—I was finally starting to prepare myself for the consequences.