Amapola

My heart was still racing from everything I had experienced in the past few hours as we got into the car to return to the complex. The man was too nervous, too irritated, too stubborn, but I would make sure he recovered as he should.
I still didn’t quite understand what I was feeling for him. Was it just gratitude? Was it fear of the power he had over my life? Salvatore gave me the chance to leave, and I chose to stay, but I didn’t know what the consequences of that decision would be. I decided to think about that later.
When we arrived home, Angela ran towards us.
"Grazie a Dio stanno bene!" she exclaimed, relieved.
"Yes, Angela, we’re fine," Salvatore replied. "This won’t be the time I’ll need to use one of my black suits in a coffin."
"Don’t talk nonsense, boy. I was worried," she said, concerned. "And you, angel? Are you alright?"
"Yes, ma’am, thank you," I responded to her question. "I’m going to take Mr. Salvatore to his room... I mean, I’ll help him get there," I said, embarrassed.
For the first time, I called him "sir." I had always called him by his name, Salvatore. I liked how it made me feel, knowing it offended him. The man was used to everyone around him treating him formally, but not me. I called him by his name, but I knew he wouldn’t tolerate that in front of others. It was as if I were undermining his authority, diminishing his position, and now, no longer at war with him, I didn’t want to cause trouble.
"Go..." Angela gestured with her hand, urging me to hurry. "With the amount of blood I saw near the gate, I know he must be weak. I’ll make some juice and a snack and bring it up."
I wanted to support his body over my shoulder to help him up the stairs, but he wouldn’t allow it. The man was like a rock. Even though I saw him press his wound, I believed he was in pain, but I was sure he’d never admit it.
When we reached the door to his room, he expected me to leave him there, but of course, I wouldn’t do that. Just as he had taken care of me, I would repay the favor. I was impressed by the beauty of the room. Everything was so much like him that I wasn’t surprised black was the dominant color in the decor, completely contrasting with the massive statuary Carrara marble stones covering the floors of the entire house, even the sheets that covered his bed in the center of the room were black silk.
"I’m fine, Amapola. I can manage on my own."
"I’m sure you can, but I’d rather make sure you follow the doctor’s orders. Besides, I’ll have to change your bandages once you finish your bath," I replied, not hesitating to question him.
"I think I can handle that myself. After all, I have two arms."
"I know, I can see that. I have great eyesight, by the way," I said, unable to contain my irritation. "But I dismissed the nurse who was supposed to come, so I’ll do the job."
"And since when do you have experience with wounds and bandages?" he asked, trying to dissuade me from helping him, but he had no idea how many times I had to take care of my father’s injuries after my mother was gone.
"Since my father needed it for the first time," I said, my voice revealing the sadness I felt. "When he lost his arm, I was the one who took care of it. We couldn’t afford a nurse, so I had to learn, and after that, every time he needed care, I was the one who took care of him."
"I didn’t know." There might have been a note of regret in his voice, as if he wished I hadn’t gone through that.
"There are many things about me that you don’t know, Salvatore."
"But I plan to find out every one of them, Amapola." I didn’t expect that response, so I just stayed quiet, but I decided to act. He needed a bath and bed as soon as possible.
"Is your closet in that door?" I asked, pointing, and he confirmed. "I’ll grab something for you to wear. Please wait for me."
"I’ll wait, Amapola. At least today, I’m not going anywhere." I heard his words as I walked away.
I entered the closet and was surprised by the amount of clothes and the organization. I guessed his sleepwear was in the drawers, and when I opened them, I smiled, satisfied that I was right. It was as if I knew every corner of his space. Strangely, I felt close to him.
When I returned to the room with a pair of sweatpants and a white shirt, he wasn’t waiting for me as he said he would, so I assumed he was in the bathroom.
Was it the other door in the room? That’s what I was about to find out.
Without knocking to announce myself, I turned the handle and saw the man grimacing in pain as he struggled to undo the buttons of his dress shirt. The suit jacket was already off.

"Why are you so stubborn, Salvatore?" I asked as I stepped into the room, too concerned with helping him to notice the beauty of the place.
"Me? Stubborn? What did you expect, Amapola? That I’d wait for you to undress me?" he asked, trying to provoke me. I swallowed hard at the thought. I had never undressed a man, except my father when he was drunk, of course, but that was exactly what I intended to do.
"Yes, Salvatore. That’s exactly what I expected, and that’s what I’m going to do." I noticed the surprise in his expression as I moved toward him, determined to carry out what I said.
I looked around and saw a chair in one of the corners. I grabbed his hand for the first time, intending to guide him to it, and a shiver ran through me as our skin touched.
"I need you to sit. You’re too... big, I wouldn’t be able to help you," I said as we reached the chair, and he followed without protest.
Before he sat down, I carefully unbuttoned his shirt, and up close, I could see and feel just how defined his body was with every gentle touch. On his chest, there was a tattoo. I had seen this symbol before and knew it was the crest of the mafia he led. It was a winged skull, with some sort of hat adorned with red roses and firearms. The tattoo stood out against his very pale skin—it was all black, except for the colorful roses. As sinister as the symbol was and everything it represented, I found it... beautiful. It suited him and everything he stood for.
His stomach had such well-defined abs that I could count them—three on each side, totaling six—and the last one descended to his waist, forming a perfect "V." I almost sighed when I gently tugged at the edge of his shirt tucked into his dress pants and realized where that sinful path would end.
I sat him down in the chair and carefully removed the shirt from his body. First, I took off the cufflinks, which I knew were gold and holding the cuffs in place. Then, I helped him remove the arm that wasn’t injured, and only afterward did I slide the shirt off his wounded arm. When I looked at him, I noticed that, like me, Salvatore was breathing heavily.
"I’m going to get the first aid kit we brought from the hospital. Don’t move," I warned, eager to continue undressing him. Nothing would bring me more pleasure at that moment than taking care of him, and I intended to make the most of it while he was cooperating. I didn’t know how long it would last.
I rushed out of the bathroom, and when I grabbed the kit, I took a deep breath before going back. I needed self-control; my body was having reactions I had never experienced in my life, but even though I was a virgin, I knew what it was: Desire.
To my surprise, Salvatore was still in the same spot where I had left him, seemingly lost in thought, staring at a fixed point in front of him. But as I approached, his attention shifted to me.