Page 78 of Please, Forgive Me
I clenched my jaw.
“I told you to stop calling me that.”
“And I told you it suits you perfectly,” he shot back, still laughing. “Besides, I’m just trying to save you from yourself. You’re not the same when she’s around. You just don’t see it because you’re too busy pretending you don’t feel anything.”
I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair, meeting his gaze with a colder one. Alexandre was always the type who tried to analyze everything—as if he actually understood what went on in my head. But he didn’t.
No one did.
“And what do you suggest I do?” I asked dryly. “Thank her for all the chaos she’s brought into my life?”
He sighed, crossing his arms too, mirroring my stance.
“What I’m suggesting is that you stop making her life hell. It’s not doing you any good. You’re just pushing her away, don’t you see that?”
I laughed, but the sound came out sharp and hollow.
“Maybe that’s what I want. Ever think of that?”
But even to my own ears, the words sounded false. And Alexandre knew it.
He knew me better than I liked to admit.
“Look,” he said quietly, “you can be cold, controlling, even cruel sometimes. But deep down, you don’t want to hurt the people who really matter to you. I’m just not sure you realize that Maria Gabriela has become one of those people.”
I swallowed hard, discomfort rising in my chest. I didn’t want to admit he was right.
Maria Gabriela had somehow worked her way into my life far deeper than anyone else ever had. But giving in to that meant losing control.
And losing control… I couldn’t allow that to happen.
“She’s leaving soon anyway, so what does it matter?” I muttered, mostly to convince myself.
“Because I know you care, deep down,” he said simply. “And I also know you’re acting like this because of what happened in the past. But Maria Gabriela isn’t like Arthur’s mother.”
The mention of my son’s mother made my fists tighten. The past still burned. Her betrayal was a wound I kept buried beneath my polished, unshakable exterior.
“Don’t mention that woman,” I warned, my voice low.
“This isn’t about her,” he said firmly. “It’s about you not letting what she did destroy you all over again. She betrayed you, yes—but not every woman will. Maria Gabriela deserves a fair chance.”
I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that trusting again was impossible. But instead, I just nodded, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.
We changed the subject.
“How’s the company?” I asked, picking up the papers Alexandre had left on my desk. “Any updates on the new 5G contract?”
He seemed to realize there was no point in pushing the Maria Gabriela topic any further. Relaxing his shoulders, he leaned forward, shifting back into work mode.
“Everything’s moving as planned. We have a big meeting next week with the new investors. They seem excited about the international expansion.”
We discussed the progress of a few other partnerships, tossing around ideas on how to strengthen Amacel’s position in the market. It was a practical, focused conversation—the kind we always had when work took center stage.
Eventually, Alexandre steered the topic back to something more personal.
“And Arthur?” he asked, his tone softening again. “My son’s been asking when he’ll get to play with him next.”
A faint smile tugged at my lips.
