Marcos Moretti

When I started working for Marcos, I was sure I wouldn't last even a month.

He was a businessman, owner of one of the most important companies in the city and, according to employees, had a reputation for being extremely demanding.

On my first day, I discovered that it wasn't an exaggeration.

"You're three minutes late," he said, without even looking up from his documents.

I looked at the clock.

Three minutes?

Three minutes.

Good morning to you too, Mr. Marcos.

He finally looked up and stared at me.

Good morning. I hope tomorrow will be midnight.

I rolled my eyes as soon as I left the room.

What an unbearable man.

The first few months were exactly like that. He complained about the schedule, corrected my documents, demanded perfect organization, and never seemed satisfied.

But, over time, something changed.

Marcos started to trust me.

I started accompanying him to meetings, organizing his schedule, reminding him of appointments, and even noticing when he needed a coffee before he even asked.

And, against all expectations, we became friends.

He started playing around with me.

I started provoking him.

Sometimes we would spend hours talking after work, about our lives, our dreams, and even completely pointless things.

There was just one small problem.

Marcos was starting to like me.

And I still had no idea.

That afternoon, I went into his office with some documents.

Marcos, you need to sign this.

He picked up the papers, but kept looking at me.

— What? — I asked.

Nothing.

You're looking at me strangely.

He quickly looked away.

I'm thinking.

This is dangerous.

He laughed.

Do you always need to have an answer for everything?

— When it comes to you, yes.

Marcos smiled slightly.

And at that moment, for the first time, he realized he was completely lost.

Because that woman, at first, he could barely stand.