CHAPTER 9
“The past can be a shattered mirror, reflecting who we truly are…”
DIEGO BITTENCOURT
I glanced at my watch.
I’d always been punctual, a habit I never broke. But tonight, strangely, I caught myself feeling… impatient.
I was seated in an upscale restaurant next to the five-star hotel where we were staying.
The lighting was warm, intimate, the tables around me filled with low conversations and the clinking of wine glasses.
Yet none of it managed to distract me. My mind was focused on one thing only: Maria Gabriela.
And then, finally, there she was.
She appeared at the entrance, moving with that quiet confidence I’d always admired, though tonight it seemed almost hypnotic.
She wore a black dress—elegant, simple, yet impossibly sophisticated—that traced her figure in all the right ways.
Her hair, usually tied back at the office, now fell in soft waves over her shoulders.
A pair of earrings caught the glow of the restaurant lights, highlighting the natural radiance of her skin. On her feet, delicate heels made her look taller, even more graceful.
I knew I should’ve been focused on the meeting we had the next day, on the problems waiting for solutions. But in that moment, all I could think about was how breathtaking my secretary looked.
She reached the table with a quiet smile and slid into the seat across from me, adjusting her dress with practiced elegance. I watched her, every movement deliberate yet effortless.
“You are, by far, the most beautiful secretary I’ve ever had,” I said, my voice pitched lower than usual, my gaze locked on her. There was no point hiding my admiration tonight.
She looked at me, rolled her eyes, but that little smirk gave her away—she knew exactly the effect she had.
“I’m the only secretary you’ve ever had,” she shot back, her voice dripping with irony.
“Which only proves how unique you are,” I countered, my eyes still tracing every detail of her. The truth was, in that moment, I couldn’t see anything else. Not the food, not the crowd—only her.
She dropped her gaze for a second, fidgeting with her earrings, though I knew it was just a distraction. A faint blush colored her cheeks, and for someone like Maria Gabriela—always in control—that felt like a small victory.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, still trying for irony but with a flicker of genuine curiosity beneath it. “You’re going to make me self-conscious.”
I smiled, because this time there was nothing clever or calculated to say—only the truth.
“Because you’re beautiful, Maria Gabriela,” I said simply, without looking away.
She stayed quiet, her eyes locked on mine, as if trying to decode me. But there was nothing to decode. No teasing, no hidden meanings. Just honesty. Maybe that’s what unsettled her most.
“That’s not something you say to your secretary, Diego,” she finally replied, her tone slightly more serious, though humor still tugged at her lips.
“And who said I was talking to my secretary?”
She blinked, a few times, as though searching for the right comeback. But before she could, the waiter appeared to take our order, breaking the moment with surgical precision.
I welcomed the interruption, if only to steady myself. Because as much as I wanted to keep this in the realm of playful banter, something told me we were stepping into uncharted territory. And that thrilled me almost as much as it terrified me.
Once our orders were placed, she looked at me again, her gaze sharper, assessing.
“You’re different tonight,” she remarked, half-teasing, half-serious. “Something tells me dinner isn’t the only thing on your mind.”
I gave her a slow smile, leaning back in my chair, eyes never leaving hers.
“And what if it isn’t?” I asked, deliberately unhurried, knowing it would intrigue her even more.
She sighed, shaking her head with a weary, amused smile.
“And here I was thinking this would just be a quiet meal after a long day,” she teased, though I could see the shift in her eyes. Something deeper. Something I knew she was starting to feel too.
“And it is.”
“Diego, I need to tell you something serious this time.”
“I’m listening.”
All at once, her eyes locked on mine, and the calm that had been hanging between us dissolved.
Maria Gabriela drew in a deep breath—a warning that whatever she was about to say wouldn’t be easy to hear.
“We… we can’t get involved anymore,” she said, her voice lower than usual but steady enough for me to know she meant it. “What happened… it was just that once. And it ends there.”
I stayed quiet for a moment, processing her words.
There was a stubborn part of me that refused to accept them. That night was supposed to be casual—at least for me—but it hadn’t been. It had become something else entirely. I knew there was more between us, something deeper than the teasing and superficial flirting we usually traded.
“Why?” I asked, my tone neutral but heavy with curiosity. I needed to understand what was behind this sudden decision.
She dropped her gaze, fiddling with her earrings again—that telltale habit she had whenever she was nervous or uncomfortable.
“It’s just that… I don’t want to mix things,” she finally said, still not looking at me. “We’re professionals. I’m your secretary, you’re my boss. And this… it shouldn’t have happened.”
But I could tell. There was something else there. Her words felt like excuses, something she was trying to convince herself to believe. She wasn’t being completely honest—at least not with her own feelings.
Still, I respected what she said. Pressuring her would only push her further away.
I gave a faint smile, trying to mask the irritation clawing at the back of my mind. I wasn’t used to rejection—especially not over something that felt inevitable.
“All right,” I agreed, leaning back in my chair, conceding—for now. “I won’t push. But I know you’re holding something back.”
Her eyes flicked up at me, wider than usual, before she quickly slipped back into that polished, professional composure she guarded so fiercely.
“I’m being honest, Diego,” she insisted, trying to sound convincing. “This is what’s best for both of us.”
The last thing I wanted was to create a hostile atmosphere, and I knew forcing the issue could only make things worse. So I let it go. For now.
“Fine, then let’s forget it,” I said, lifting my glass of wine in a symbolic toast. “Let’s just enjoy dinner, like we always do.”
She smiled—a small one, but genuine.
And just like that, we shifted back into safer territory. We talked about work, about the endless trips, about how much we both hated long meetings. And, as always, the sharp humor and occasional flirting were woven into every word.
“You know you need me in meetings, Diego. Without me, you’d lose focus in ten minutes,” she teased, that familiar sparkle in her eyes.
I laughed, shaking my head.
“I’d say that was a compliment in disguise, but knowing you, it’s just another jab.”
“Of course it is,” she said playfully. “You know I’ll never make things easy for you.”
Normalcy settled back in between us, the way it always did. For all the tension simmering just beneath the surface—for all that fragile line between professional and personal we were always skirting—we both knew how to keep up appearances.
And in a strange way, that was part of who we were.
Still, as dinner went on, I couldn’t stop watching her.
The curve of her smile, the cadence of her voice, the way she kept me on the edge of control.
She was a force I hadn’t known I needed until the day she walked into my company.
And no matter how many times she insisted that night had been a one-off, I knew this was far from over.
When dessert arrived, I gave her the look I knew always disarmed her.
“You know,” I said, my voice calm, steady, “you can say whatever you want, but something tells me this thing between us isn’t finished.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled.
“I’m not arguing with you about this, Diego. I’ve already said what I needed to say.”
I nodded, but the smile on my face only grew. Because deep down, I knew that fragile line would keep pulling us back together.
And sooner or later, all that tension simmering between us would break loose.
Honestly? I could hardly wait.