Page 1 of Please, Forgive Me
PRÓLOGO
“Sometimes distance is the only way to see things clearly…”
MARIA GABRIELA
It’s not that I hate my boss, but Diego Bittencourt is… gorgeous and impossible.
In equal measure.
I know I probably sound all over the place right now—believe me, I know—but he has this way of bringing out both thebest and the worst in me. And that’s exactly what led me to the worst decision of my life.
I let myself get carried away by his hands—those strong hands that could steer the fate of entire companies and, in that moment, steered my body.
It always began the same way with us: subtle jabs, glances that lingered a second too long.
Diego was… complicated.
His stunning looks were undeniable, the kind that left you speechless the second he locked eyes with you. Tall, dark hair always flawlessly styled, features cut sharp like a Greek statue.
But the real problem wasn’t his face.
If only it were…
It was his attitude. Diego Bittencourt knew he was handsome, knew he was powerful. And that made him dangerously… narcissistic.
He carried himself with a confidence that bled into arrogance, as if the world existed solely to serve him.
And most of the time, it did.
And me? I was there to serve him too.
His secretary. His right hand. His confidante at the most inconvenient moments. Always at his side, keeping his chaos in order, absorbing the stress of running one of the biggest tech empires in Brazil.
I was supposed to be professional. To keep my distance. But that night… changed everything.
I remember exactly how it started. A business dinner, something we’d done a hundred times. He sat across from me in the hotel restaurant, soft light sculpting every perfect angle of his face, his mood unusually easy that evening.
He teased, laughed at my sarcastic comebacks. It was the dance we knew too well—a game of provocation we’d played for years.
But that night, the air between us felt charged. Maybe it was the wine I ordered, maybe the fact that we were alone in a luxury hotel, far from the grind of the office.
Everything seemed more intimate, closer. And then he looked at me… that piercing stare he only gave when he wanted to push my limits.
“You know you look beautiful tonight, don’t you?” he said casually, like it was nothing.
My heart lurched.
He never spoke to me like that—never that directly. Usually, he kept the ice, the cool professionalism beneath the banter. But this time, his voice carried something different.
Heat. Danger.
I tried to hide behind my usual sharp humor, the only weapon that gave me the illusion of control.
“And you’re still unbearable, as always,” I shot back with a small smile.
But inside, I was unraveling. My body reacted to him in ways I couldn’t disguise.
When dinner ended, he walked me to his room as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and before I could process a single thought, his mouth crashed onto mine.
