Salvatore Dalla Part 2
"Sir, with your permission, I’ll go call the bambina." Although Naná said it as if I had a choice, she didn’t give me time to respond and headed toward the stairs.
"Buongiorno, signore," Amapola says as she enters the room, before sitting at the table where Ángela had already placed her dishes. She walks toward me, placing a small silver tray with some medications beside me. "I was going to leave it in your room, but Ángela asked me to come down. I don’t want to be a bother."
She speaks, and I wonder why she’s acting like this. Could it be my brothers’ presence making her feel uncomfortable? Looking at her clothes, I remember that I need to arrange for her to have something new to wear; she's still in the same outfit from yesterday, likely because Ángela washed it.
"Sit down, Amapola," I instruct, pointing to the seat.
"It’s not necessary, signore," she starts, and I cut her off.
"Sit." She understands it's not a request and moves toward the spot I indicated.
"Nurse?" Rico teases, a playful smile on his lips as he tries to provoke her.
"Rico, that’s enough," I say, and he mimes zipping his lips. I hoped he could actually keep his mouth shut for once.
Naná begins serving us, and we remain in silence for a while until I turn to Amadeu.
"I believe you all know what happened on Friday, don’t you?" I ask rhetorically, and the three of them nod, their mouths full of food. I address Amadeu directly. "What were your instructions when I told you to leave the girl at the casino?"
"I told her she should help in the kitchen or as a waitress, just like we discussed, sir."
"Did Martin say anything to you?"
"Not directly, but from the way he looked at her, I noticed his interest. Knowing she wouldn’t want to get involved in... the other business, I made it clear there were limits regarding her."
"Made it clear? Are you sure about that?" I ask, irritation growing in my voice. "She was almost raped, for fuck's sake. If I hadn’t seen it, he would’ve raped her inside the casino." I raise my voice, anger bubbling up, and only then do I realize Naná is still in the room. She brings her hands to her mouth, shocked by what I said, unaware of what Amapola had gone through.
"Forgive me, sir, I should’ve—" Amadeu begins to explain, but Amapola interrupts.
"It wasn’t his fault. He was threatened; Martin had a gun to his head. Don’t hurt him, Salvatore. Amadeu isn’t to blame for what happened to me," she says, and for a moment, I actually want to kill the man who’s been by my side since childhood.
What the hell is going on? She’s worried about him? Does Amapola have feelings for Amadeu? The exchange of glances between them infuriates me even more. What the hell is happening right in front of my eyes?
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