(Renata Pellegrini)

"S-sir?" she blinks several times not believing what she heard. I can't believe it either. "I-I didn't quite understand what you said, could you…"

"Oddio, dammi pazienza," he says in italian. God, give me patience. "I want you out of my office, now!"

"But, sir, what about her?" Veronica points her finger in my direction.

"Stai zitto!" he increases the tone of his voice, telling her to shut up. I am not sure if she understood what he said, but she is startled by the tone of his voice and shuts up. I understood what he said because I always heard my father saying those words in Italian when I did something wrong.

Veronica's jaw quivers with anger, she is certainly feeling humiliated, she looks at me once more, I can read in her eyes: You will pay for that!

I smile and her face gets redder at my provocation, she turns around and walks stiffly out of the room, leaving me alone with the Italian tycoon.

I swallow dryly, all the anger inside me is gone and only nervousness and fear remain.

He turns and stares at me, I feel awkward before this look, he seems to study every part of my body, he won't be able to see much, the uniform doesn't mark my curves, and I don't even have many, the only thing that stands out about me are my breasts, they are average, but at least they are not small like my ass and not as thin as my legs. It is possible to squeeze them really tight. At least, that's what I think, I like the texture and size of my breasts. My mother, when I was thirteen, always encouraged me to know my body and taught me where I could never let someone touch it without my permission.

I try to concentrate on some sound other than my heart beating so hard it hurts. But the room is so quiet, I feel desperation trying to take over. I try to slow my breathing down, I can't have a piripaque here.

"Non ricordo di averti visto, di quale parte d'Italia sei?"

"What did you say?" I asked in a hushed voice, the only thing I could understand was: which part of Italy. And I don't even know if I understood correctly.

"Non parlate italiano?" I think he is asking me a question, but again I don't understand anything beyond the word Italian. His eyes look at me again, from top to bottom, it bothers me, I feel my face getting hot.

"Can you please speak in English?" I ask, staring back at him.

I don't want him to think that I find him attractive, or that he has awakened something in me, I will take that to my grave with me. Never in my life did I think that someday I would be attracted to the kind of people I despise most in the world.

He clicks his tongue and goes to his chair behind the table, sits down and without taking his eyes off mine, points to the chair in front of the table. I don't want to sit down, my brain wants to get out of here, but I am curious and I need this job.

I have made up my mind, if he gives me the opportunity to continue, I will work only until I receive my first salary. I will not stay here to work as a cleaner, if at this time I know some other company that is hiring, I will try, but if not, I will go back to Brazil and follow my life there.

"Where are you from, and what is your name and age?" he asks in English.

I am thankful that my mother put me in an English course when I was six years old. I never stopped practicing, so I was able to travel here without any problems. And it was also for this reason that I thought I had a chance to do well in the interview and live in another country.

"I'm from Brazil, my name is Renata Pellegrine and I am twenty-four years old," I answer, and he raises an eyebrow, looking at me suspiciously.

"You don't look like a Brazilian," he says quietly to himself, but I can hear him, so I decide to remain silent. "Both your name and your surname are of Italian origin," he notes and crosses his arms, I just keep quiet watching him, he clicks his tongue. "How did you get here?"

"My teacher got a job interview here," I explained, trying to keep calm.

"What is your teacher's name?"

"Juliana Lueni.

He puts his hand on his chin, and closes his eyes for a few seconds.

"Never heard of that name," he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms again. "What did you study?"

"Information System, I graduated last week," I explained more excitedly.

Is he doing the interview? Will I change positions? Oh I hope so, it will be a dream come true if I get a better position.

"How did you end up in the janitorial position?"

"Well, that manager, Veronica…"

"She's not the manager here," he cuts me off, leaving me confused.

"She's not?" I look confused at him.

"No," he answers.

Putting on all that pose, giving me a job, when she wasn't even responsible for my interview.

"What is she then?" I ask, hoping he doesn't kick me like he did her.

"Head Attendant, she is in charge of training the new attendants and organizing the shifts," he explains."

"Right, well, when I came in here, she had told me that Miss Carol had told me I was coming along with other applicants for the position," he frowns, as if he had only just learned these details. "But I couldn't even say I was here for the interview, she sent me away saying I wasn't up to working here."

"Then she offered you the position of janitor," constants.

"Yes," I confirm.

"What is your marital status?"

"Single, sir."

"Any children?"

"No children."

"Okay, I'll see what I can do and call you by the end of next week, write down your contact phone number and email address."

He hands me a notebook and a pen, and I write down the information he asked for.

Oh Lord, put your hand on this man's heart and make him hire me, I pray in thought.

"In the meantime, am I supposed to keep coming here?"

"To do what?" he asks with a raised eyebrow looking at the paper with my information.

"Um, cleaning?" I say. "Let me come, I can do the work. I need the money."

What humiliation, but what can I do? In the apartment there is nothing to eat and I don't have a penny in my pocket, nor do I have any credit cards. I have to at least get paid for the daily rates.

"Take it."

I look at his hand holding a hundred-dollar bill.

"W-what is this? Are you doing charity now?"

Mannaggia! Why can't I control my tongue? I need the money.

"The payment for your hours worked today."

"I only worked for fifteen minutes," I tell him suspiciously. I don't believe in genuine kindness coming from people like him.

"Then take it as a retraction for the way you were treated when you arrived."

Oh, if that's so, then I'll gladly accept this money. I take the note and put it in my apron pocket.

"On second thought, I will give you a position now. It will be temporary, you will start as an attendant, do you accept?

Don't frown, don't frown, I repeat in my thoughts. Well, it's better than continuing as a janitor.

"I accept!"

"Okay, go to the reception and look for Amanda. You'll start right away."

"Okay," I stand up.

"Buona giornata, ragazza," he says, wishing me a nice day. But once again the memories of my father, speaking those exact same words, waking me up come to mind.

"Anche per Il sig" I say, wishing the same for him.

A pity I have only learned a few words and short phrases in Italian.

Filippo smiles, a wide smile that makes me feel something strange in my chest. I hold my breath and hurry out of the office.

Now it's time to look for Amanda.

(Renata Pellegrini)

Oh, shit! I forgot the cleaning cart in Signor Filippo's room, I hope this won't become a problem later. I speed up my steps and head to the dressing rooms. When I arrived I noticed that the receptionists also have uniforms, but I will look for Amanda dressed in the clothes I arrived with and I will give back this uniform and the key to the original closet.

Now, with my clothes changed, I fix my hair and take one last look at myself in the small mirror in my bag. I put everything from the bag inside and leave the dressing room, walking with slow steps that turn me towards the reception balcony.

I feel people looking me up and down, I swallow dryly, why in this world am I so hard to be nice?

If my mother were here, certainly, she would never accept that someone treated me like dirt, or did what Veronica did to me.

I take another deep breath and approach one of the receptionists, he is blond and by his face, he seems more approachable than the girls.

"Good morning!", I greet him politely, at least he doesn't look at me with disgust. "Can you tell me how I can find Amanda, please?"

"Tiffany, did you see Amanda today?", he asks the girl sitting to his right. She looks me up and down, more one for my list of people I don't like here.

"I saw her running into the locker room, late as usual", Tiffany replies, rolling her eyes and chewing gum.

"I just came out of the locker room and there was no one else there", I say.

"The locker room in the reception area is on that side, kitten", replies the blond with a smile as he points in the opposite direction from where he's leaving. "Last door in the hallway on the left."

"Oh, yes thank you!", I thank him with a smile and he smiles back.

I take long strides down the hallway and head for the last door, unlike the locker room in the cleaning sector, the door to this locker room is glass, I turn the knob, and the room is very well-lit and much more spacious, a thousand times chicer.

I feel like cursing Mr. Filippo, since he is so controlling with who hires him or not, and he is the richest man in the world, he should at least treat the employees equally. It's not because they are cleaners that they deserve little. I'm sure that small locker room doesn't fit ten employees.

I walk into the locker room and see a girl with curly red hair laughing at something on her cell phone.

"Amanda?" I called out to her.

The girl startles and almost drops her cell phone on the floor, I notice that her smartphone is from the Ruby 5 pro line, launched late last year by Computing Diamond.

"Mrs. Veronica, I was just talking to my father, he is sick and...", she turns to me and sighs in relief when she realizes that I am not Veronica's snake. "phew! I thought it was someone else."

"I see", she smiled. I figure a lot of people must not like Veronica's, and I'm in the middle of this cake. "Do you know where I can find Amanda?"

"You're already talking to her, how can I help?"

"Oh, well, my name is Renata, I was hired a few minutes ago to be a receptionist, Mr. Filippo sent for her", I explain.

"Mr. Filippo?", she frowns. "You mean Mr. Valentine, the owner here, did you talk to him directly?"she asks, approaching me with wide eyes.

"Ah y-yes," I said, a little embarrassed. Sometimes I forget that here rich people who are not intimate should be called by their last name.

"Wow, is that a third leg, as they say?", she asks smiling.

"Are what you talking about?", I frown, what a crazy woman.

"Oh, now you're going to play the saint? You know very well what I'm talking about!"

"N-no, I really don't know", I say, taking a step away from her.

"Mr. Filippo is the sexiest man in the world! With that kind of gray eyes and his big chest completely defined, you can see his muscles even when he's in a suit!"

"That's true, even in a photo he looks, in person he is much better", I think and hold back a smile, she continues talking:

"Apart from her voice, in a low tone loaded with an Italian accent, he always walks elegantly and rarely shows her face", she bites her lip. "I bet his little head looks like a big pink mushroom."

I just met the woman and she's already telling me her imaginings about the boss's private parts! Have mercy on God!

"Apparently you're one of the shy ones", she says, smiling in my direction. "Well, the bureaucratic part of your hiring we'll have to sort out in another department, for now, let's fix your uniform."

She goes to a large closet and takes out of it a red blouse and a black pencil skirt, a handkerchief that she holds under the collar of the blouse, it is white. The uniforms are nice.

"Is what your shoe size?"

"Thirty-eight", I answered.

"Here", she hands me a black heel, "Try it on", she points to a door. "There are the changing rooms and toilets, they go there."

I entered where Amanda instructed me and everything was wonderful. I noticed that there are four glass showers, the glass is transparent and you can see that the showers are golden. The smell of eucalyptus intoxicates me, I like to feel the smell of cleanliness. The mirror of the washbasin covers practically the entire wall.

I take off my clothes and put on my uniform. The cleaning uniform smelled like old clothes that had been in storage for a long time, but this uniform smells nice. A silly smile escapes my lips. I look in the mirror still with dark circles under my eyes and dry hair, I feel beautiful.

The receptionist uniform is much more elegant than my formal wear. It's even embarrassing.

Mental note: To buy fancy clothes with the first salary.

I come out of the bathroom and Amanda breaks into a smile at the sight of me.

"It's perfect for you!", she comes to meet me and wraps her arm around mine. "Come, I'll show you where you're going to work."

We leave the prep room and walk again to the reception, she walks in front of me.

"Always looks presentable, hair well combed and loose, well, the loose hair rule was created by Veronica, she says we can't get sexy, listen Mr. Valentini likes women with long hair tied in a ponytail on horseback, only Mrs. Veronica can come with the prisoners", she sighs. "Bitch!", mutters the curse. "Oh, also come with makeup on tomorrow, okay?"

"Yes!"

"We have two hours for lunch, and always change your clothes before going home, company rules. As if anyone should want to steal these ugly clothes", she speaks with disdain.

I imagine she has a lot of nice, good quality clothes, I'm not a thief and it never crossed my mind, but the fabrics of these uniforms are the best I've ever worn.

Amanda and I made it as far as the balcony of the reception, the girl and the young blond man got up.

"Finally she showed up", the blond smiles for Amanda.

"Yesterday I ended up drinking more than I wanted to, Caio", she answers smiling, "This one is called Renata, she was hired by Mr. Valentini himself."

"Wow, do you know him?"

"I just had a misunderstanding, then he decided to be benevolent with me", I try to explain as little as possible, I don't want this conversation to collapse.

"Tai is kind of hard to see, Mr. Valentini is not known for being benevolent."

"I guess not really," I reply in my thoughts. Mr. Filippo is thick, arrogant, and an asshole. But he was good to me and deserves some credit.

" What am I supposed to do?" I changed the course of the conversation.

"Simple, just greet people, bring coffee, water or whatever they ask for, show the customers around. You'll be almost like a tour guide."

"I get it, it seems to be easy", I conclude, "I don't think I'm going to have trouble doing these things.”

"The hard part is putting up with Mrs. Veronica", Caio speaks softly.

"Yes", Amanda and I answered together.

"Well, I'm going to finish showing her the company, come Renata. We will be back and then you can go to Caio", says Amanda, and Caio nods his head.

Getting to know the rooms of the company was a lot of fun, Amanda is a very extroverted person. The work started after lunch, today I was up and going back and forth all afternoon taking people and announcing them. I even felt like a secretary.

I look at the clock on the wall and it says twenty-two o'clock in the evening. It's very late!

I leave the company and find myself aimless, the security guard has already closed the door and walked away. Amanda left an hour before me because she had an emergency, and I'm left to organize the counter.

Where is there a bus stop here? My God, how am I going to get home?

It's late and I'm alone, there's not even a living soul passing by for me to ask for information.

A pitch-black car approaches me, startles me and I jump back a little. My heart is hammering hard inside my chest, it may not look like it, but I'm really scared, it could be a kidnapper or some psycho, but the car is too fancy to belong to just anyone. The driver lowers the window and I see it's Mr. Filippo.

"Do you want a ride home?" He asks.

(Renata Pellegrini)

I'm so hungry and my legs are so sore that I have the feeling I misheard, is this serious? Is the richest man in the world really offering me a ride?

"N-no, but could you tell me where the cab stand is?"

Is the money paid to me enough to pay for the cab? I know things here are more on account than in Brazil, a bus would be better, but just to disguise, I ask the cab rank and there, with people I will probably never see again in life, I ask where the bus stop is.

"You're not taking the cab," he says, looking me in the eyes.

"Yes, I will" I lie, "I just don't know where the point is."

"Sta mentendo per me, ragazza?", 'Are you lying to me, girl?', he says in Italian, his tone telling me that this question is more like a warning, like: keep lying and you'll see.

My cheeks burn, how can he be so convinced I'm lying? Am I so transparent like this? I could never hide anything from my dad, he always said I was a terrible liar, but I thought it was only because he knew me before I was born.

"Could you tell me where the bus stop is?", with his head down, I asked this time for the real information I wanted.

"Tomorrow I'll tell you," he speaks.

"Why? I need to go home today, I'm tired!"

"I said I'll take you home," he insists once again.

"That wouldn't be appropriate, Mr. Fili... Mr. Valentini," I correct myself in time, he sighs, I hope he has given up, he looks ahead and taps his finger repeatedly on the steering wheel, he seems to be thinking about something.

"It's late, the bus won't pass now at 11:30 p.m., will it stay more than an hour alone in the dark place?"

Touché, he seems to have guessed that I am a fearful woman and I am afraid of being alone in dark places. Once I was almost abused, but I always try to forget about that trauma, in Brazil I started to avoid empty streets, I walked among drug dealers, and despite the strong smell of machines, they didn't mess with me. It was safer.

I'm still reluctant, what's worse, being alone at a dangerous bus stop or getting into the car of my boss, who is still a stranger to me?

"Better to go with the boss" - my conscience answers.

"Okay," I walk around and get into the car, the car smells brand new, like it just came out of the store.

He starts the car engine, and heads down the street. I am so nervous, this man takes me out of my comfort zone, and I don't just get to understand the reason. I keep looking straight ahead, almost I don't twinkle my eyes, I feel his gaze burning my skin, I feel I'm dangerously close to this man.

"Do I make you feel desconfortável, ragazza?", he asks taking me by surprise.

"N-no, yes! Well... it's, I mean it's not every day someone like you offers me a ride."

"Don't take this the wrong way, I just saw her alone and didn't mean to be rude," he explains.

"You practically forced me into the car! You were so insistent and even used my fear to your advantage", I mentally hint, he keeps talking:

"Believe it or not, I am a gentleman who likes very much to save helpless young women."

"Hurum, I know," I answer and in the same instant, I regret, "Oh, well, I mean you look like a nice person," I lie.

He doesn't look anything like a good person and is a bad man, very bad. From his pores ooze danger, from his mouth come out coarse words and when he speaks in Italian he is sexy, leaving me weird inside. A good person wouldn't do that.

"Would you like to stop at a market before going home?"

"Would you take me, sir?," I ask with raised eyebrows. Why is this man being so nice to me? That doesn't make sense in my head.

"If I'm asking, it's because I will", he looks me in the eyes and I feel my cheeks burning.

"I want yes, sir", I answer, looking at the window glass.

We are in silence.He parked the car in front of a market for twenty-four hours, I opened the door and got out, I started walking for the entrance, and I felt his presence behind me. Will he really enter that market? I thought he only entered places of pure luxury!

I decided not to question it, we go into the market and I go to the food shelves, I buy several packages of crackers and pasta, I buy prepared sauce and then I buy parmesan cheese from the freezer and I buy some green condiments, all that was missing was a dry white wine, but that was it, enough for the expense.

"Are you going to make macaroni", he asks as I choose the onions.

"Yes," I answered without diverting my attention.

"Don't forget," he places a bottle of dry white wine in my basket.

"Where did you find it?", I ask suspiciously, I didn't know that they sold in the small markets this kind of drink.

"There," he points to a shelf with some types of wines and other drinks. How could I not see that?

"Thank you."

We continued to the cashier, and this damn tycoon makes one more kindness, and pays for my purchases. I didn't want to make a scene in front of the cashier, but I don't like to be paid for things, well, not when I have to pay. Not when I have to pay.

We get into the car again, I take a hundred notes and extend them in his direction.

"I want my change," I tell him and he looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Keep this," he orders, smiling, making me feel even more uncomfortable. "I want you to pay in another way," he says in a lower voice than usual.

My ass locks up. He can't be serious. I quickly pick up my hand, and a hurricane settles in my belly foot - Mr. God, help me!

"In what way does Mr. does mean?," I ask, feeling my fingers cold and my heart pounding inside my chest.