Salvatore Dalla Part 2

“Sir, Miss Amapola is...”
“I already said he’s waiting for me, Amadeu. You don’t need to announce me.” The woman storms into my office like a whirlwind, and I freeze. She must be kidding; what the hell is this?
“Good afternoon, Mr. Salvatore Dalla Costa. I’m ready for our meeting,” she announces, and I can barely tear my eyes away from her body, from every inch of it.
I was used to a simple Amapola in jeans and floral dresses, but the woman who entered my office was someone entirely different. Amapola wore high-waisted black pants and a red long-sleeved top. The shirt wasn’t tight, but it had a deep “V” neckline that closed just at the height of her pants, making it clear at the top of her breasts that she was braless. What did she want? For me to have a heart attack? Not to mention the heels on her feet and the handbag that I could bet had nothing in it.
“Everyone out,” I say, controlling the anger in my voice and wishing no one else would see her like this. “Sit down, Amapola.” I gesture to the chair in front of me, and she sits down with a calmness and posture that suggests she owns everything and everyone.
“Thank you, sir.” She was made up, her hair slicked back, sexy, sensual, and seductive; that was the last thing I needed to deal with. Speaking of which, that was exactly what I wanted right now, but I maintained my composure.
“Do you want to discuss what was happening in my house just moments ago?”
“Yes, of course.” She smiles, but sparks of anger emanate from her eyes, which I can clearly see. “You said I was no longer your prisoner.”
“Yes, I did, but I also said you couldn’t leave whenever you wanted, Amapola.”
“So, I understand your point, sir, but the thing is, I just wanted to go see my father, and you allowed that, didn’t you?”
“Amapola, don’t try to twist our conversations to your advantage. I did say you could see him, but we should talk first before you throw a tantrum and try to force one of my men to take you without my orders.”
“So tell me, Mr. Salvatore, how can we talk if you’re a busy and unavailable person? If last night you treated me like I was nothing just because I wanted to see you?”
“I shouldn’t have treated you that way,” I admit, because I’ve replayed our argument over and over in my mind.
“Exactly, sir, you shouldn’t have, which is why I decided to try to see my father since dialogue isn’t an option for us.”
“Don’t exaggerate, darling.” The sarcasm in this conversation is evident to both of us.
“So tell me what to expect from you, Mr. Salvatore.” She leans over the desk, and her breasts almost spill out. Damn it.
“To be honest, Amapola, I don’t even know what to expect from myself, but please don’t challenge me; don’t question my orders.”
“Am I your employee then? Because only an employee should be submissive to their boss, right?”
“Enough sarcasm, mia bella,” I say, bringing the tip of my index finger to the valley between her breasts, sliding it along until I can reach as far as I can from where I’m sitting. Amapola gasps at the touch but quickly recovers, using the desk between us as a shield and leaning back a bit.
“It wasn’t my intention, sir,” she says, pouting slightly and shaking her head. Her words say one thing, but all her actions suggest something entirely different.
“As for your father, when we go out later, I’ll take you to see him,” I inform her. “Now please, I need to get back to work.”
“Yes, sir. In the meantime, what should I do?”
“I don’t know, Amapola. Sit on the couch, keep quiet, and let me work, okay?”
“Fine,” she says, getting up and sashaying over to the couch. Did she really sway her hips, or was it my imagination? Amapola opens her bag and pulls out the book she was reading last night, surprising me even more; if I had bet, I would have lost. But what did she bring that book for? I had no idea.
“Sir?” Amadeu says as he opens my door.
“What the hell, can’t I concentrate on work today? The next poor soul who enters this office is getting shot in the forehead,” I growl irritably.
“Sorry, sir, but I came to check if you wanted your lunch.”
“Get me anything, Amadeu; just go,” I say. And before he can leave, Amapola’s voice fills the tense silence of the room.
“You haven’t eaten anything yet, Salvatore? Want to faint from hunger?” Amadeu freezes, and I take a deep breath, counting to three. “Don’t worry, Amadeu; I’ll handle this. You can go,” she says, and he bolts out like a shot.
“Is it so hard for you to stay quiet?”
“It’s hard when I see you’re harming yourself.”
“Are you worried about me, mia bella?”
“Yes, I mean no. Don’t irritate me, Salvatore. Just tell me what you want to eat, and I’ll take care of it.”
“I trust your taste, mia bella; just let me work,” I ask.
“Can I use the phone?”
“Sure,” I reply, and she sits back down in front of me, but she turns the phone on my desk in her direction.
As soon as she chooses her dish, she gives the delivery address and hangs up. The phone starts ringing again, and before I can reach it, she picks up the receiver and puts it to her ear.

“Signore Salvatore Dalla Costa’s office, how can I help you?” I hear her answer the call. “He’s in a meeting right now, but I can take a message and pass it along to him as soon as possible.” Amapola pulls out a notepad and writes down what the caller says before ending the call. I mentally thank her for not transferring the call to me, although the attention I paid to her gesture distracted me a bit.
She repeats the same action with subsequent calls. I had set my phone system so that calls would go directly to me until I found someone to replace my secretary, but I had no idea how many calls I received in a single day. She only passed on the most urgent ones and then sent emails with important messages. I truly couldn’t go too long without someone to assist me.
I see Amadeu deliver lunch to her, and she dismisses him afterward. Her gestures are calm and calculated, as if she doesn’t want to divert my attention. She waits until I look away from her and then informs me about the lunch.
I go back to work and pay no attention to the other calls, finally managing to focus because she dominated the space and handled what she could; I would need to thank her for that.
I was also surprised. Even without having finished college yet, she was already showing signs of being an excellent professional. Maybe bringing her here wasn’t such a bad idea, as I had initially thought about canceling her coming.
Could she temporarily replace my secretary? It would keep her occupied and also serve as assistance for me. She was confident in her actions and determined. I think that’s it; I just had an idea that would be excellent for both of us, I believed. But I hoped she would understand, as some boundaries would need to be established. I had no doubts about that.