Salvatore Dalla Part 2
"I'm ready," Amapola announces as she approaches me on the terrace.
I run my eyes over her body and wonder how she thinks she’s ready, dressed in a white skirt that barely covers her legs, a blue blouse tied at her waist exposing part of her stomach, and flat sandals laced around her ankles.
"Are you sure?" She looks down, analyzing her outfit, and suddenly, the smile fades from her lips.
"You said light clothes," she explains. "And it's really hot."
"Yes, Amapola, I said light clothes, not that you'd come naked," I growl at her.
"I'm not naked, Salvatore." The smile plays on her lips again. "Can you tell me where we're going?"
"Why?" I ask, irritated. If I wanted, I’d take her to hell, but not in that outfit, I think to myself. "So you can see if your clothes are appropriate?"
"We're going to the family vineyard."
"Oh, then this outfit is perfect." She smiles. "I'll just grab a hat." She spins on her heels, leaving me standing alone, wondering where this woman came from.
"Let's go." I decide to keep quiet about her clothes, but that didn't stop me from telling Amadeu that all the workers should be given the day off—I would be her guide myself.
We spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon walking through the vineyard. I explained to Amapola everything from grape cultivation to wine production. She seemed genuinely interested, and I could tell from her insightful comments that she was intelligent.
Although she drank very little, she made sure to taste everything we produced. She made me smile with every grimace she made while trying the dry wines, contrasting with her smiles when tasting the sweeter ones. It was to be expected; after all, besides not being used to strong drinks, her taste reflected her essence: fragrant, soft, and intoxicating.
We had lunch and decided to return to the estate to rest a bit. The night had been intense, and I wanted her well-rested for what I had in mind.
Before throwing herself on the bed, Amapola gave me a list of ingredients she needed for dinner. She remembered that she had promised to cook for me. I handed the list to Amadeu to check if we had everything and to get what was missing. I dismissed the kitchen staff and left her sleeping while I decided to head to the office to work.
The effort was in vain. Even from a distance, Amapola distracted me. As I stared at the screen of my laptop, I couldn’t see anything but her.
A call from Fabrizio brought me back to reality—problems and more problems. That was my reality, not the calm that Amapola brought to my days. I allowed myself a moment, told him to handle what he could, and that I’d deal with the rest when I arrived.
We would leave tomorrow night, so by Wednesday, my real life would embrace me once again.
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