The days went by, and April had been working at PGE Internacional for a month. The change of life was still difficult for her, but little by little she was beginning to adapt.
Now at least she knew how to cook for herself, and her apartment—which at first seemed like a prison—had become a haven of peace and tranquility after each exhausting workday. Because, if there was one thing that was certain, it was that Alfonso wasn't making it easy for her at all.
April spent the whole month running through the company's hallways, intercepting area managers, reviewing files, and even getting information out of an employee who almost melted at her flirtatious smile.
Boris, who watched her from afar, couldn't believe it: that woman, without any experience, was achieving in hours what others wouldn't do in a week.
During that month, a strange bond was built between April and Alfonso, made of arguments, challenging looks, and silences charged with tension.
A relationship between love and hate, where neither wanted to admit the obvious: that, behind each confrontation, their hearts began to beat with a different intensity, revealing feelings that they could no longer ignore for long.
April entered the office with a firm step, as if the tiredness of the previous day had not existed.
Alfonso, behind his desk, watched her in silence. His gaze was cold, calculating, like a chess player preparing the next move.
A perfectly organized file. She left it on the desk, without missing the opportunity to provoke him.
"Here you have it, boss. Everything you asked for. With indexes, graphs, and even conclusions."
Alfonso skimmed the report, frowning. It was impeccable.
"Who helped you?" he asked, suspiciously.
"My neurons," she replied, smiling maliciously. "Although I already know that you find it hard to believe that this 'brat' has a brain."
The comment was like a dagger to Alfonso's pride. With his jaw clenched, he expressed.
"Don't think that a stroke of luck changes the rules."
April looked at him mischievously.
"Stroke of luck? No, Mr. Brescia... it's called talent. Something that money can't buy."
That night, Alfonso drank whiskey in his office, watching the city lights. He muttered the name that tormented him under his breath:
"Abril Arias..."
He didn't know whether to hate her or desire her. And that conflict made him even angrier.
Meanwhile, April, lying on the sofa in her apartment, sent a message to her brother:
I survived another day. That man doesn't know who he's messing with.
And, for the first time, she smiled for real.
The days went by and Alfonso began to accept that, behind April's arrogance and whims, there was an intelligent and audacious woman for business. That facet surprised him and, little by little, his attitude towards her began to change.
He took care to teach her everything related to the business world, and although he was a demanding teacher, he also knew how to convey his experience.
Frequently, he took her to meetings with his partners, although those outings ended in arguments: Alfonso couldn't stand the jealousy that aroused him the insinuations of some partner towards April.
One afternoon, while reviewing some contracts, Alfonso's cell phone began to ring. He smiled when he saw his mother's name on the screen.
"Hello, Mom," he replied, but the smile immediately disappeared.
"Mother, this issue is not up for discussion. I don't plan to get married, and if I ever do, it will be with whom I choose. That she is your nanny's granddaughter doesn't make her special." He hung up abruptly, annoyed by that absurd insistence.
At thirty years old, he didn't understand people's obsession with believing that it was an obligation to have a wife and children.
Angry, he put the documents in his briefcase and decided to go to the mansion to make things clear with his mother... and with that opportunistic woman who sought status, very different from his grandmother's nobility.
April, on the other hand, was picking up her things to go home. Little by little she had begun to feel the apartment where her mother lived before getting married as a real home.
The relationship with her parents remained fragile after the fight, but thanks to Dereck she kept up to date with them and they with her.
She entered the CEO's exclusive elevator. Although many employees looked at her with displeasure every time she used it, no one dared to say anything to her, so she simply ignored it.
The doors were about to close when Alfonso entered, frowning and still loaded with the rage of the call.
"Miss Arias," he said in a rough voice, "have you been explained the rules of this company?"
April gritted her teeth and, with a feigned smile, replied:
"If you're talking about the stupidity that this elevator is 'exclusive' for you, yes, I was told. But I don't care at all. If you want, fire me. Here no one is better than anyone. Having more money doesn't make anyone superior."
Even she herself was surprised by her words. Not long ago, she also thought that those who had fewer resources were inferior. But living with her colleagues had begun to change her way of seeing the world.
Alfonso couldn't stand the insolence. Impulsively, he cornered her against the metal wall of the elevator, imposing his body on hers.
"Listen to me well, brat," he growled, with a voice charged with rage and desire. "Here you do what I say. You're just a salaried employee who barely survives. You are ants before me, and of course you are inferior."
April's heart raced. Never in her life had she been treated like this. She was always the spoiled daughter, protected from everything, never forced to do anything. And for a moment she thought Alfonso was going to hit her.
Fear invaded her, her eyes filled with tears and, with a broken voice, she begged:
"Okay... I won't use this elevator again. Just... don't hit me. I'll do things right, whatever you say."
Alfonso was paralyzed. He felt the tremor of April's body and saw her black eyes flooded with tears. A pang of pain pierced his chest: for the first time in a long time he felt like the worst scum in the world.
"Hey... don't cry, little one, don't cry anymore," he whispered, awkwardly caressing her cheeks. "I'm sorry, brat... it wasn't my intention. I'm not angry with you, but with other people."
April nodded, although the tears continued to fall uncontrollably. Painful memories were revived in her mind: she finally understood how so many people she herself had humiliated in the past had felt.
The elevator stopped on the first floor. Without thinking, Alfonso took April's hand and spoke firmly:
"I'll take you home."
As he walked to the exit, the silence of the elevator still echoed in Alfonso's mind. He felt the warmth of April's hand in his, small, trembling, fragile. He had never seen that woman—arrogant, haughty, always with an answer on her lips—in that way: with her black eyes clouded by tears, her body shrunk with fear, her voice broken, begging him not to hurt her.
That memory hit him like a waking nightmare. What the hell did I do? he thought as he led her towards the exit. He had behaved like the same monster he so detested in others.
He had always prided himself on being strong, untouchable, cold. But that night, in the reflection of April's eyes, he did not see himself as a leader... but as a villain.
And yet, along with that burning guilt, something was born that disconcerted him even more: an uncontrollable desire to protect her. There was something in that vulnerability that disarmed him, tore him from his walls of steel. He wanted to see her smile, he wanted to erase from her skin the fear that he himself had caused. And that infuriated him, because it meant recognizing that Abril Arias was changing him.
She, on the other hand, walked beside him in silence, with her gaze down, still wiping away her tears. She felt angry at herself for having shown weakness in front of him, but at the same time, her heart was beating strongly. She was unable to deny that, in that instant when he touched her with tenderness and whispered "little one, don't cry", she had felt something different. It wasn't the arrogant and cruel Alfonso of always, but a man with cracks, with shadows, with a weight he was trying to hide.
Alfonso squeezed her hand a little tighter, as if he feared that she would let go and get lost in the crowd. What are you doing, Brescia? he reproached himself in silence.
He had never needed anyone, he had never allowed a woman to mess with his mind. And now there he was, walking in front of all his employees, dragged by the impulse to take care of that insolent secretary who had gotten under his skin without permission.
The murmurs of the workers surrounded him, whispers that spoke of favoritism, of scandal, of rumors that would soon run throughout the company. But Alfonso heard nothing. He could only feel the softness of that small hand that burned like fire in his.
In that instant he knew: April was his biggest mistake... and, at the same time, his greatest temptation.
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