Page 16 of Please, Forgive Me
“I know.”
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.
