Page 33 of Please, Forgive Me

The silence that followed was thick, charged.

I watched his jaw clench, his fingers pressing hard into the edge of the desk, trying to control the anger rising in waves. But before I could even react, he leaned forward, eyes fixed on mine—raw and dangerous.

“Now it is,” he barked, his right hand slamming down on the dark wood with a dull, echoing thud.

His gaze was razor-sharp, and for a heartbeat, a chill ran down my spine.

My boss was in control—or at least, he was trying to be.

“This is insane!” My voice came out louder than I meant, reverberating around the room. “You can’t just decide what my life is going to be!” I stared at him, forcing my voice steady even though I was trembling inside. Part of me was afraid of what he might do. “I’m not your property!”

His lips pressed into a tight line, clearly rattled by my defiance. I knew he wasn’t used to this—someone pushing back, refusing to bend. At work, he always got what he wanted. People bowed to his power. But I wasn’t going to.

“Tell me why.” His voice was lower now, controlled but still taut with tension. “Why do you want to leave? What’s the real reason?”

I swallowed hard.

How could I tell him the truth? That he was the reason? That being near Diego every day was tearing me apart?

I knew where we were headed—some dangerous territory I wasn’t ready to admit to myself. What had once been harmless teasing and light flirtation had become something deeper, something I didn’t want to name.

He was close to uncovering it, but I couldn’t let that happen.

“It doesn’t matter why,” I said, looking away. “I’ve already decided. And it has nothing to do with the job.” My voice faltered, and I knew he caught the hesitation.

“Maria Gabriela…” He exhaled, running a hand through his hair as if searching for the right angle. “I just want to understand.” His voice softened, but frustration hummed beneath it. “You’re my best employee. I can’t just let you walk out without trying…”

He looked as conflicted as I felt.

But Diego wasn’t the kind of man who got attached. He’d told me so himself, over and over, that he didn’t get involved—that he kept his distance, even with all the women who ended up in his bed.

And as much as it hurt, I knew I was trying to protect my heart. I had to leave before it was too late.

“I’ve said everything I needed to say,” I repeated, forcing my posture to stay firm despite the storm inside me. “I’m leaving at the end of the month, Diego. Nothing’s going to change that.”

He fell silent, his brown eyes scanning my face. I could see the battle flickering there. Diego Bittencourt didn’t accept defeat—especially not over something he considered his. But I wasn’t his. And he needed to understand that.

“I’m not letting you walk out like this,” he said at last, his voice firmer now. “But I’ll make you an offer.”

I raised a skeptical brow.

“What kind of offer?”

“Stay six more months.” He leaned in slightly, eyes still locked on mine. “No retaliation, no problems. If, at the end of those six months, you still want to go, I’ll accept your resignation. But until then, I want you to think this through.”

My mind spun with the offer.

Six months.

Enough time to pull myself together, maybe even find a way to keep things professional. But I knew accepting meant prolonging the agony of being near him, of fighting feelings that shouldn’t exist.

“Six months…?” I echoed, trying to process what he was really putting on the table.

“That’s all I’m asking,” Diego said, his voice now calm, almost persuasive. “Think about it. I’m not asking for much. But you have one day to decide.”

I hesitated, knowing he was offering me a temporary exit but also weaving me deeper into his web.

I was on the verge of falling into the very trap I’d sworn to avoid.