LOGINMaitê Fernandes, a nurse, has an impulsive night with Rafael Valença, a billionaire in his forties and owner of a hospital empire. Then comes a proposal: a one-year contract as his mistress. In exchange for a life of total luxury, Maitê must be exclusively his, available in his bed whenever he desires. No children and no promises of love. She accepts, knowing she risks falling for a man who doesn’t believe in a “forever.” Rafael, divorced and averse to permanent attachments, believes one year will be enough to satisfy the overwhelming desire she awakens in him. Between nights of passion that make the world disappear and a contract that dictates the rules, the expiration date may come to an end—but the feelings that grow refuse to obey any clause.
View MoreChapter 1
Maitê picked up a drink at the bar of the sophisticated nightclub her wealthy friend had dragged her to that night. She walked slowly among the high-society crowd, conversations revolving around business deals and international trips. She definitely didn’t belong in that world. “This isn’t exactly what I’d want… but I wouldn’t mind it at all if I had enough money,” she thought, laughing quietly to herself. The smile faded instantly. Among so many well-dressed people, one man stood out in an almost absurd way. He was taller than most, with broad shoulders. His presence dominated the room. Someone carrying a briefcase hurried after him, looking distressed, as the man walked toward the bar… straight to the spot where Maitê was standing. “Sir… sir, please,” the other man insisted, nearly tripping over his own feet. The man sighed, clearly irritated, at the limit of his patience. “Enough, Ângelo. I’m not signing that document. If I do, I’ll end up hanging myself,” he said, running a hand through his slightly graying temples. “A double whiskey, please.” Maitê tried to pretend she wasn’t interested, but her eyes betrayed her. She watched him from the corner of her eye as he leaned against the counter, discreetly loosening his tie while the other man walked away defeated. He sensed someone watching him. He turned slowly and met her gaze. “Looks like I’m not the only one who needs a strong drink tonight,” he commented, seductive, a faint smile playing on his perfectly shaped lips. Maitê raised her glass. “I think everyone here does. Some are just better at pretending.” His smile widened; he was intrigued by the mysterious woman. “Finally, someone honest in this place.” *** Dafne finished talking to her last client and headed toward Maitê when she saw her chatting with her VIP client. She slowed her steps, assessing the scene from a distance, and decided it was better not to approach—at least not yet. She smiled to herself. That was part of the game. At parties like this, flirting was almost second nature. And, by the looks of it, her friend wouldn’t need her that night. Dafne watched once more. The man was smiling at Maitê in a charming, confident way—the kind that didn’t need to try hard to get a woman’s attention. He was the type every woman noticed the moment he walked into a room. “Maitê’s going to fall fast,” she thought, amused. “And who wouldn’t?” She laughed quietly and slipped back into the crowd. *** Meanwhile, at the bar, the atmosphere between Maitê and the stranger grew increasingly intimate. “What brings you to a place like this?” he asked, leaning slightly toward her. “Are you a CEO? Should I be worried?” Maitê smiled, swirling her glass between her fingers before answering. “No need to worry… for now,” she said, flirting openly. He caught the intention immediately. And he liked it. His smile deepened. “I like mysterious women,” he murmured. “Especially the ones who don’t run when they’re provoked.” Maitê felt a light shiver run down her spine. As they talked, Maitê’s drink ran out. She set the empty glass on the counter, not noticing when he gave a subtle signal to the bartender. “Another one?” he asked, already knowing the answer. “Only if it’s on you,” she replied, amused. “With pleasure.” A few people nearby cast curious glances. It wasn’t hard to notice the chemistry between them. Among the onlookers, one man tried to get too close, pretending to check his phone. A reporter, poorly disguised. Security moved quickly when they spotted the suspect approaching. Within seconds, he was identified and escorted out under protest. “Wait! I’m a guest…” Maitê’s eyes widened slightly. “Does this happen often?” she asked. “More than I’d like,” he answered, indifferent. After a few more drinks, something shifted. His gaze became more intense. More focused. More… wicked. He had made a colossal effort to maintain his composure, to keep his eyes from betraying thoughts that didn’t match the controlled image he usually upheld. But by then, control was starting to slip. The deep V-neckline of Maitê’s dress stood out more than before. Maybe it was the lighting. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was simply the way she moved so naturally, oblivious to the effect she had. This time, he didn’t look away. He let his gaze slowly trace the exposed skin, imagining how it would feel under his touch. Her skin looked impossibly soft… and dangerously inviting. Maitê noticed the change in him. She raised an eyebrow, completely unembarrassed. The alcohol had probably loosened her up. “Everything okay?” she asked, looking at him with interest. He held her gaze. “It is now,” he replied without hesitation, sensing her interest. Silence. He rested his elbow on the counter, leaning in a little closer, shrinking the space between them to a dangerously intimate limit. “You know,” he said in a low voice, “that kind of look is usually taken as an invitation?” Her heart raced, but she kept up the provocation. “And do you usually accept invitations from strangers?” “Only when they seem to know exactly what they’re doing.” She smiled, fully aware of the effect she was having on him. “Maybe I do,” she answered. “Or maybe I’m just tired of rules.” That was enough for him. He took a deep breath, as if making a decision he would normally avoid. He picked up his glass, downed the last of his whiskey, and set it on the counter. “Then let’s be honest,” he said. “I’m not interested in small talk. Or in promises I don’t intend to keep.” She felt a shiver run across her skin. “Good,” she replied. “I don’t like illusions either.” His gaze darkened; her response pleased him. “There’s a place nearby. Discreet.” He paused briefly, gauging her reaction. “We can continue the night there… or pretend this never happened.” Maitê looked around: the luxurious nightclub, the people who didn’t know her, the world she never belonged to. Then she turned her eyes back to him. “Pretending has never been my strong suit,” she said, picking up her purse. He gave a slow smile. “Perfect. Then come with me.”Chapter 9On Monday, Maitê stopped in front of the mirrored building that reflected the city sky. The headquarters of the Valença Group was even more imposing in person than in the economic reports that sometimes appeared on the hospital television.She took a deep breath.She wasn’t wearing designer clothes. No famous-brand heels. But she was well dressed. A discreet business dress, hair neatly tied back, and light makeup.She went in.The marble in the lobby shone from being so clean. Men in suits hurried past.The receptionist slowly raised her eyes. Her gaze was quick, assessing, and judgmental.“What can I do for you?”The tone was cold.“I have a meeting with Mr. Valença at 11.”The woman frowned. She looked her up and down, lingering on the simple shoes and the bag without a famous logo.“Your name?”“Maitê Fernandes.”The receptionist blinked once, surprised. She checked the system. The name really was there.Still, she seemed not to believe it.“Wait a moment.”She typed some
Chapter 8Rafael drove with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the open window. The address he had scheduled with the realtor was saved in the GPS: a new building, a single tower of glass and steel, named “Residencial Horizonte.” Duplex penthouse, 180 square meters, 360-degree view, private pool on the balcony.Perfect.He parked in the reserved spot in the underground garage; the realtor had already granted access. He took the private elevator straight to the top floor. As soon as he stepped out, she was already there, waiting in the apartment’s entrance hall.Camila, 32 years old, tall blonde, gym-sculpted body, tight dress and blood-red high heels that left no doubt about her intentions. The smile was professional, but her eyes said something else.“Mr. Valença,” she said, extending her hand with perfectly polished red nails. “How punctual. I love men who keep their schedule.”Rafael shook her hand without smiling back.“Let’s see the apartment.”She wasn’t sha
Chapter 7She sighed deeply as she entered the old building, the smell of mold mixing with the aroma of bean stew while she climbed the narrow stairs.The elevator had been broken for weeks again, so she went up the steps slowly, her leg muscles still weak from what had happened at the hospital.“Almost there.”On the fourth floor, as if he had radar, the door to apartment 402 opened before she even reached the landing.The neighbor who always seemed to sniff her out like a dog in heat stepped out and leaned against the doorframe. He was wearing only a worn gray boxer brief, his belly slightly protruding, arms crossed to show off his cheap gym muscles.“Hey, kitten. Want to fuck today?” he said with a smile he thought was irresistible.Maitê stopped for a second, looking him up and down with pure disgust. His body was in shape, sure: shaved, artificially tanned, poorly done tattoos on his arms. But the main detail was missing. The one that really mattered.“It looks like you don’t hav
Chapter 6Rafael watched her again. He was in no hurry to pull out of her. He loved the sensation of having her like this, completely at his mercy.“Say you want it,” he said, seductive, brushing his lips over hers.“It’s just…” She stopped speaking. She was clearly hesitant.“I get it. My age bothers you. I’m 45, but I believe that won’t be a problem. You must be around my son’s age—he’s 25.”Maitê lifted her face, surprised.“I’m 24 and I live alone in a tiny studio apartment. But it’s not that…”He slowly pulled away, slipping out of her with care. He adjusted his pants and didn’t move any farther than necessary. He stayed right there, listening to her speak. She told him a little about her life: the cramped studio in a peripheral neighborhood, the nurse’s salary that barely covered the bills, the exhausting shifts, the mother who lived in the countryside and occasionally needed help. She spoke with humility, without self-pity, but with a raw honesty that touched him more than he e












Welcome to GoodNovel world of fiction. If you like this novel, or you are an idealist hoping to explore a perfect world, and also want to become an original novel author online to increase income, you can join our family to read or create various types of books, such as romance novel, epic reading, werewolf novel, fantasy novel, history novel and so on. If you are a reader, high quality novels can be selected here. If you are an author, you can obtain more inspiration from others to create more brilliant works, what's more, your works on our platform will catch more attention and win more admiration from readers.