Amapola

Happiness—that was the feeling filling me for finally being able to work with something I truly loved. Of course, being around Salvatore was an amazing bonus. He was truly incredible, his ability to manage and lead was impressive, and without a doubt, I would learn a lot from being by his side.
I would have to learn to balance what was right or not, but his intelligence and sharpness would definitely add a lot to my development.
When his brothers left his office, he called me in to tell me that I should keep my distance from them, especially Rico and his antics. I almost smiled—could it be that the almighty Salvatore Dalla Costa was jealous of me?
How could a man like him feel jealous of someone like me? It wasn’t as if I was belittling myself—I knew my worth and my qualities. But despite the fact that we had come to an understanding, there were many things that separated us.
Without him knowing, I had researched this morning about the Italian mafia, and unfortunately, the obligations that weighed on his shoulders didn’t seem promising to me. As the Don, he was in charge of everything, but all the weight of the organization, the celebrations for successful business, and the blame for mistakes—it all fell on him.
I finally understood why he was the way he was. His sternness was a reflection of his position in the famiglia. Slowly, I was beginning to piece together the puzzle that was Salvatore, and I was surprised to realize that I liked what was being revealed to me.
"May I come in, sir?" I ask after knocking on his office door.
"Yes, Amapola, come in. Do you need something?"
"Actually, I have a question."
"Go ahead."
"Yesterday, you hadn’t had lunch by three in the afternoon. I need to know if you have lunch here every day, and if I need to arrange it."
"It’s best to always check with me, Amapola. Sometimes I eat at a restaurant, and other times I order lunch and eat here, but the best thing is to confirm with me."
"What about today, sir? What should I do?"
"Arrange lunch for both of us. I still haven’t caught up with everything, so we’ll stay here. As for you, since you’re my personal assistant, you’ll always be with me, so whatever I do, you’ll do as well."
"Alright, signore. I’ll take care of it now," I say, heading towards the door, but I’m interrupted by his deep voice.
"Amapola."
"Yes, signore?"
"Have you sorted out your return to university?"
"I’ve already contacted them and submitted the return request form along with the necessary documentation. As for the payment..."
"As for the payment, once they process your admission, I’ll pay the entire year that’s left for you to finish. Just let me know."
"Salvatore." I sigh, resigned. With the salary he was giving me, I could easily pay the tuition myself and still have a lot of money left over each month.
"I think we’ve closed this topic, Amapola, so please don’t question me again."
"Yes, sir." I leave his office irritated. What he’s doing isn’t right. I won’t feel comfortable with this decision—it feels like I’m taking advantage of his generosity.
It’s not like the money will make a difference to him, I know that. But I’m not happy with the position he’s putting me in.
I arrange our lunch, scheduling the delivery for around one in the afternoon. Salvatore has a meeting scheduled for two-thirty, so we’ll have plenty of time to eat, including celebrating my readmission to university, which was just confirmed by email. Would he mind if I ordered wine to go with lunch? I was thrilled that my plans were back on track, so I called the restaurant again and asked them to add it to the order.
"Tell Salvatore someone is waiting for him." A female voice catches my attention as I was distracted by the laptop screen, once again admiring the email I received from the university.
"Sorry, miss, buongiorno, I didn’t see you come in."
"I noticed. Being the secretary to who you are, you should be more attentive," she says, reprimanding me, and I shrink in my chair—I really had failed by being distracted.
"Sorry," I apologize again, "how can I help you?"
"Tell Salvatore someone is waiting for him," she says, and her arrogance is starting to irritate me. She’s as rude and impolite as she is beautiful.
She’s wearing a navy blue, one-shoulder dress, tight against her body, accentuating her curves. Her short, wavy blonde hair falls over her shoulders, framing her face, which looks like it was painted with a brush. Her eyes are a brilliant blue and stand out even more with the dark makeup. I don’t know who she is, but I can guess she’s one of those models who pose for magazine covers.

"What’s your name, miss? Mr. Salvatore has other meetings scheduled after lunch." I check the clock and see it’s twelve forty-five. "I’m not sure if he’ll be able to see you."
"I’m sure he will. Tell him Carlota Carbone is waiting for him," she says, and I remember that this is the name of the person scheduled to meet with Salvatore at two-thirty in the afternoon.
"Just a moment, please." I decide to go to his office personally to inform him of the woman’s presence.
"Come in, Amapola," I hear his voice after knocking on the door.
"Sir, Miss Carlota Carbone is in the reception."
"Was the meeting scheduled for this time?" I see him checking his computer for his agenda, but I quickly answer.
"No, sir, it was for two-thirty, but I believe she came early."
"Send her in, and please stay as well, Amapola. It’s good for you to be aware of the business."
"Yes, sir," I say and step out.
Before notifying the woman, who is sitting there, staring at her phone and shaking her crossed legs, that Salvatore will see her, I head over to Amadeu. I ask him to receive our lunch and request one of the assistants to set it up in the meeting room. After his confirmation, I catch the woman’s attention and ask her to follow me to Salvatore’s office.