Chapter 9

Chapter 9

On 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 something and made a short call.

“You may go up. Presidential floor.”

Maitê thanked her with a slight nod and walked to the elevators. As the elevator rose, the knot in her stomach grew tighter.

When she stepped out onto the presidential floor, she walked to the indicated office.

“Miss Fernandes?” the secretary asked, smiling with impeccable politeness.

“Yes.”

“Mr. Valença is waiting for you.”

The difference in treatment was striking. No sideways glances. Only absolute professionalism.

Maitê straightened her posture. She was no longer the young woman who had left a motel at dawn.

She was the woman about to walk into the office of the most powerful man in the city.

“You may go in,” the secretary said, opening the door.

She entered and found Rafael Valença standing behind the desk, looking at her as if he had been waiting for this moment since she left before sunrise.

His eyes scanned every detail of her.

“So you do exist?”

Maitê smiled.

“I thought you had already confirmed that.”

He slowly walked around the desk, approaching her.

“Disappearing without giving your name wasn’t exactly polite.”

“We didn’t agree on politeness either.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched.

“Did you know who I was?” he asked.

“No.”

“And now that you do?”

She held his gaze.

“You’re still the man who invited me to have sex without promises.”

Rafael took another step toward her.

“Did you come here to ask for something?” he questioned, his tone deeper.

“I came because you asked me to.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Their breathing was no longer steady. She lifted her chin slightly.

“Then what should I call you?”

He leaned in, just centimeters from her face.

“Rafael?”

He took hold of her wrist.

“You left me wanting answers,” he murmured.

“And did you get any?”

His eyes dropped to her lips.

“I don’t repeat stories.”

“Neither do I,” she replied.

Neither of them believed that. He slowly released her wrist.

“You’re nervous,” he murmured.

“I’m not.”

“Your breathing is different.”

She swallowed hard.

“Maybe it’s you.”

A half-smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

He slowly raised his hand, his fingers touching her chin, tilting her face slightly. His thumb brushed her lower lip, pressing it gently.

“I thought about you,” he confessed, his voice low and hoarse. “More than I should have.”

Her heart raced.

“That’s your problem,” she murmured.

“It’s becoming ours.”

He leaned closer, his nose brushing hers.

She closed her eyes for a second. She felt his lips almost touch hers.

Someone knocked on the door. They pulled apart as if they had received an electric shock.

“Mr. Valença? The lawyer and the witnesses are gathered.”

Moments later, the contract was signed in the presence of the lawyer.

When the lawyer left the room, the silence felt different.

Rafael stood, watching Maitê put her copy of the contract into her bag.

“Now it’s official,” she said, trying to sound in control.

“Too official,” he replied.

He slowly walked around the desk. There were no more witnesses. No more formality.

His eyes changed. They were no longer those of the CEO in that moment. They were the eyes of the man who had wanted her since the first night.

Maitê felt him approach. She didn’t need to look.

“There’s still time to back out,” he murmured.

“I don’t back out easily.”

He took her waist and pulled her closer, making her brace her hands on the desk behind her.

Rafael leaned in, his lips almost touching hers.

“One year is too long…” he said, his warm breath against her mouth.

“Or too short,” she replied.

He was about to kiss her when someone opened the door.

“Rafael?”

Valéria entered as if she still had the right to that space. She stopped abruptly.

She observed the minimal distance between them, his hand on the woman’s waist, the air too charged to be merely professional.

She slowly raised an eyebrow.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Rafael released Maitê but stayed where he was.

“You should knock before entering.”

Valéria ignored the comment. Her eyes fixed on the young woman, making a quick assessment.

“And you must be…?”

Maitê held firm.

“Maitê Fernandes.”

Valéria tilted her head slightly.

“Of course. A new employee,” she said in a subtle yet venomous tone.

Rafael’s expression hardened; he was starting to get irritated.

“Valéria, say what you want.”

She took a few steps around the room as if she were still at home. He held his ex-wife’s gaze.

She smiled. And before leaving, she threw one last jab:

“I just hope you know exactly what you’re bringing into your life, Rafael.”

Silence.

He looked at Maitê.

“Welcome to my world. Let’s go,” he said, picking up his jacket.

“Now?”

“You signed a contract with me. We start today.”

Half an hour later, the black car stopped in front of the most exclusive restaurant in the city.

The maître d’ greeted them by name.

“Mr. Valença. Your table is ready.”

She noticed the looks. Some discreet. Others curious. Elegant women assessing her with interest.

The table was reserved, with a panoramic view of the city.

“Have you been here before?” he asked.

“No.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll like it.”

The menu looked more like a technical book. French terms. Minimalist dishes. Prices that would make any ordinary person choke.

“Order whatever you want,” he said.

She hesitated for a second, then chose something she barely knew how to pronounce.

When the dishes arrived, they were almost works of art. She tasted and closed her eyes in satisfaction.

“This is… absurdly good.”

She began eating slowly, but soon forgot the calculated posture and started eating for real, savoring every bite.

“Are you hungry?”

“Shifts don’t have fixed meal times,” she replied, delicately wiping the corner of her mouth.

In the end, the dessert was the best part—sweet just right—and she ended up eating more than she wanted.

When she realized it, she leaned back in the chair, discreetly placing her hand on her stomach.

“I overdid it.”

He smiled.

“I like women who eat without pretending to be delicate.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“And I don’t like men who observe too much.”

“Then we’re even.”

He was enjoying seeing her comfortable in his world. And that wasn’t part of the contract.

He wiped his lips with the napkin and looked at his wristwatch.

“We have forty minutes before two o’clock.”

Maitê frowned.

“For what?”

He stood up naturally.

“We’re going to a store nearby to see which car you want.”

She blinked.

“Sorry… what?”

He tossed a few bills onto the table, completely ignoring the bill’s amount.

“It’s in clause three. Mobility appropriate to the standard of the relationship.”

“I thought it would be a regular car.”

He let out a low laugh.

“Nothing connected to me is regular.”

Minutes later, their car stopped in front of the most luxurious dealership in the city.

The manager practically ran over when he recognized Rafael Valença.

“Mr. Valença, what an honor to receive you again.”

Again. Maitê absorbed the word.

“Today it’s not for me,” Rafael said, placing his hand on the small of her back. “It’s for her.”

The manager looked at Maitê with immediate interest.

“Of course, miss…?”

“Maitê,” Rafael said in front of her.

They walked among cars that cost more than years of her salary. Genuine leather. Digital panels. Impeccable finishes.

Maitê walked slowly.

“This is excessive,” she whispered to him.

“It’s an investment.”

“In what?”

He leaned in slightly.

“In the woman who will be by my side for a year.”

The manager stopped in front of a black model.

“This one suits you. Sophisticated and discreet.”

Rafael looked at Maitê.

“Do you like it?”

She ran her hand over the car’s finish.

“I never imagined choosing a car like this.”

He came up behind her.

“Get used to it.”

“I don’t want to look like someone I’m not,” she murmured.

Rafael leaned his face close to her ear.

“You don’t look like it. You are. You just don’t know it yet.”

The manager stepped away to prepare the paperwork.

“Is this necessary?”

He gently held her chin.

“For me, it is.”