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MY FATHER'S BEST FRIEND IS MY LOVE

MY FATHER'S BEST FRIEND IS MY LOVE

Romance
last updateLast Updated : 2025-09-28
By:  IVI SANTIAGOOngoing
Language: English
goodnovel18goodnovel
10
2 ratings. 2 reviews
104Chapters
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Synopsis

Drama

Dark Romance

Contemporary

Doctor

Goodgirl

Independent

Betrayal

Affair

Age Gap

After a bitter falling out with her mother, Mavi decides to leave her past behind and seek a connection with a father she barely knows. In a quiet and reserved town, she tries to rebuild her life, facing not only the wounds of her mother’s rejection, but also the watchful eyes of a new reality. What Mavi didn’t expect was that a chance encounter with a stranger would awaken a desire that would consume her — and, even more shocking, this man turns out to be Alexandre Xavier, the most respected surgeon in the region and her father’s best friend. Amidst unexpected encounters, heavy glances and conversations interrupted by tense silences, an undeniable attraction begins to take root — an attraction that neither of them can deny. Alexandre, always the calm and disciplined professional, finds himself undone under the weight of emotions he has never allowed himself to feel, leading him to question everything he knew about loyalty, love and desire. My Father’s Best Friend is My Love is a story of forbidden attraction, challenging boundaries and a love that defies reason. How far can you go for a love that is born from the impossible?

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reviews

Jerlan Santos
Jerlan Santos
good Very good,
2025-05-09 07:49:25
0
0
Cleide Silva & Adrian Marques
Cleide Silva & Adrian Marques
starting out, looks good
2025-05-09 00:16:18
0
0
104 Chapters
Prologue
Of all the sins I learned to hide, gluttony was the most harmless. A simple, almost innocent indulgence that allowed me to escape even if only for a brief moment the suffocating reality I lived in. On an unbearable Rio Sunday, my refuge was a generous cup of strawberry ice cream. Cold, sweet, and almost innocent. Almost.Sitting on the living room couch, the fan blowing directly on my face, I watched the poolside activity through the half-open window. My mother in an orange bikini, surrounded by tanned guests, hollow laughter, wet bodies, and sparkling wine glasses. It was the typical scene of her parties, the kind of gatherings that always made me feel like an intruder in her world. A life I never managed to belong to.The laughter sounded empty, like a way to fill the uncomfortable silence that always existed between us. The ice cream slowly melted as I got lost in thought, trying, for just a few minutet, to forget what bothered me. The feeling of being physically present yet so dist
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Maria Vitória Bocci
The days went by, and the atmosphere at home grew increasingly hostile.My mother was always busy, distracted by her own concerns, barely noticing what was happening around her. I, on the other hand, had college responsibilities, final exams, upcoming practical internships, the end of the semester, but none of it seemed enough to keep me safe from Marcelo's visits.Sometimes, I could hardly believe how he managed to be present without being invited, showing up in every corner of the house, always with that gaze he couldn’t hide. He seemed to be everywhere, always too close, as if he wanted to occupy every space. Every move I made was followed by him, and I no longer knew how to react.It became routine for me to be in my room, trying to study or rest, when I would hear the door creak open. He never knocked. He just walked in, and the mere sound of his footsteps seemed to fill the room with a tension I couldn’t break.At first, I tried to be polite, pretended I didn’t mind. But over tim
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Alexandre Xavier
My days were becoming increasingly full.I still thought about everything — the morning at the hospital, the afternoon lecture, the evening seminar.I got home late at night, but it was the silence that hit me first. A silence that wasn’t peace — it was a warning. A premonition, a subtle sign that something was about to happen. A dense kind of emptiness, spreading through the hallway like fog before a storm. I climbed the stairs slowly, feeling the weight of the day piling on my shoulders. The briefcase slipping from my hand, my blazer already wrinkled from the constant on and off, or perhaps just from being there, waiting.It was past eleven. I had said I wouldn’t come home right after the lecture, that I might stop by the hospital. Maria Clara didn’t need to wait up, but the event ended early, and the rain changed my plans that night. Our days had been busy, hectic. What was once a promise of a peaceful life, of rest, was slowly fading into endless work.Upstairs was dark, except for
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Alexandre Xavier
My schedule remained packed, even though my mind was caught between the pain of betrayal and a full agenda of surgeries. Keeping busy seemed like the best way out. Avoiding a conversation with Maria Clara, at that moment, was the only way to maintain some sanity, avoiding conflicts that would hurt us even more. So, I went to the capital, Rio de Janeiro, for an important lecture. The auditorium at the federal university was packed. It was the end of the semester at that college. Medical and nursing students from all stages crowded into the uncomfortable plastic chairs, some frantically taking notes, others just pretending to be interested. I was used to it: lectures, congresses, opening ceremonies. The same cycle of catchphrases and impactful graphs. But that night, there was something different in the air. Perhaps it was the fatigue from the trip or the discomfort of being back in Rio, where past memories still whispered at every corner, reminding me that our forever was never meant
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Maria Vitória Bocci
The fifth semester finally came to an end, with a major lecture. Dr. Xavier was recognized in the medical field for his skills in complex surgeries, but he stood out for his self-control, something I needed to master. The sixth semester was approaching, and I needed to know more about it.Even though I was far from home, staying at Aunt Helena’s house, I couldn’t stop thinking about my mother. Neither Aunt Helena nor I understood her reasons. As painful as it was, I kept trying.My cell phone vibrated somewhere in the house. I went to look for it, foolishly hoping it was my mother. But when I saw “Isis” on the screen, I sighed and brought the phone to my ear while I washed my hands.“Ugh, friend, I'm so tired of Thiago.”She didn't wait for me to say hello. I've never had many friends, and maybe that's why I tolerated the repetitive complaints.“Then break up with him,” I said, without holding back. “Of course not! I've had enough of him. I want to get away for a while. How about we g
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Alexandre Xavier
I went out in search of a heater, since the room didn’t have one. When I returned, I found an intruder in my bed.He or she was curled up under the blanket, breathing lightly, as if they had claimed the space without the slightest shame. I frowned, but the light went out again.“Damn these technologies... They never work properly for us,” I muttered, complaining about the sensor.“Who’s there?” asked a young female voice, leaving me perplexed. Had I entered the wrong room? I instinctively checked my pockets, a common habit when I feel uncertain.“I should be the one asking. Who’s there? This is bungalow number four. It’s reserved for me.”Before I could finish, the stranger sat up in bed, triggering the sensor at last. My gaze instinctively locked in place as I realized she was completely naked.She was a stunning sight. Her damp dark hair, like a moonless night, cascaded over her shoulders as if each strand had a life of its own. Her brown eyes, almost amber, gleamed intensely like r
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Maria Vitória Bocci
"I should be the one asking. This is bangalo number four. It’s reserved for me."I sat on the bed, and the light finally turned on.Standing before me was a man with graying hair, though not old. His expression was tired, but not worn. His deep black eyes fixed on me with a furrowed brow. There was something unsettling about his presence—a contained strength, almost dangerous. Tall and imposing, I knew him, and I admired him.He exuded a rare elegance, the kind you don’t learn—you’re born with it. Every movement was silently measured, yet filled with a natural sensuality, as if the very air around him knew it had to make way. He was beautiful, but in a way that hurt—not because of perfection, but because of the impact. There was charm and mystery in his gestures, desire in his silences, and a cruel beauty seemingly made to be forbidden.I had raced against time that Wednesday to attend his lecture—two packed buses, running through the halls—just to get a good seat. Everyone wanted to
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Alexandre Xavier
Mavi walked into the room, wearing a white dress with thin straps and striking blue patterns. Underneath, a second-skin camisole hugged her figure. She had been wearing that outfit since lunch—a beautiful girl who drew attention without even realizing it.She sat in the same armchair again and, without hesitation, opened the book and resumed reading where she had left off. It was as if she were searching for peace, which made me wonder if she could find it in any other bungalow. Even the ones for singles were filled with couples at that moment. The soft rain was an inviting prelude to affectionate acts and the release of sexual desires.She looked at me for a moment, as if she knew I was still watching her. Our eyes locked in a gaze I couldn’t control. She watched me in silence, and I did the same until she finally looked back at the book.In the fourth bungalow—Laranjeiras room—with a pleasant scent lingering in the air, I was torn between thinking I had made the right decision by ask
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Maria Victoria Bocci
EVERYTHING ABOUT HIM ATTRACTED ME.It didn’t take long. After just a short conversation with Alexandre, I realized he was better than any lecture. Intelligent, wise, experienced... His calm gestures, the pauses between his words, the gentle and polite manner—everything about him captivated me.Never, not once in my life, had I felt so protected, so seen.I fell asleep in his bed. Even with the lingering glances between us, he never crossed a line. Still, he stirred something in me that no one else ever had. I’d had flings here and there, little sparks, but nothing that made my body feel like it was on fire from a single look. Alexandre’s eyes didn’t linger on my body—they dove into mine, as if reading every unspoken word. And then, they lingered on my lips, tracking every movement.I thought he’d kiss me that afternoon. Then later, by the fire.Isis even teased me about it, said we were looking at each other too much, hinted that I’d already slept with him. I rolled my eyes when she s
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Alexandre Xavier
But like me, one of the men was also watching her, ignoring the girlfriend—or wife—beside him. The singing lasted until dawn, the rain intensifying. I walked toward the bungalow, unable to ignore the strange feeling growing inside me. I glanced at the golden ipe bungalow. The door was closed. Had they made up?I hadn’t thought about being with another woman in years, hadn’t even looked at one with interest. Mavi seemed to be breaking an old cycle—and that only proved how weak my connection with Maria Clara had become.I entered the room, lost in thought. The loneliness of the early morning filled the space.I could never trust again. I couldn't forget those screams, those moans... the way she gave herself over. I didn’t even recognize her in that bed, like that. Their intimacy disturbed me even more. Knowing she’d been with another man, while she was still mine… how could I bear it?I found it odd that Mavi wasn’t there. She wasn’t in bed, or in the room. Had they worked things out?
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