(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.

(Renata Pellegrini)

Filippo doesn't answer me, he just starts the car engine one more time and turns back to the road. I focus my vision for the night landscape beyond the window, I don't have the courage to look him in the eyes, I confess I only stared at him so as not to look like a coward, but now, I'm embarrassed.

"How did you like working there at the company?", he breaks the silence.

"I found it interesting, it has always been my dream to work in the biggest technology company in the world, and I confess, apart from the locker room part of the cleaning sector, everything else is a dream of a place," I confess.

"What's wrong with the locker room in the cleaning department?" he asks, looking at me with a frown.

"Well, it's small and seems to be part of another company, in all the places I've been today, it's the only one there that smells musty, it's cramped, it's poorly lit, the walls are peeling and...

"I'll look into this tomorrow," he cuts me off hastily and turns to face the street.

I say no more, interlace my fingers over my lap, me and my big mouth. Well, from the way he's been acting, you can tell he had no knowledge of this in his company, I just hope I didn't get in trouble with someone important there. I don't want to get in trouble.

He stops the car at the traffic light, there are not many cars on the avenue, I feel his gaze burning my skin again.

"I'm very selective," he speaks in a roaring voice.

What does he mean by this? Filippo continues to stare at me, I feel a tingling on my skin, why does this man awaken so many strange sensations in me? Without thinking well, I look back at him, these are certainly the most intense eyes I have ever seen. They seem to pierce my skin.

"Renata?," I hear her voice in the distance, it's like she's outside, but I keep my eyes open, "What's your address?"

"Ah, yes. Sorry," I close my eyes and shake my head to chase away thoughts of the now, "East Village."

For the rest of the trip, I didn't even open my mouth to say an "a", I just pointed my finger between blocks. I think he noticed that I almost drooled on his car after that split second exchange of glances. Oh, what the fuck, how could I fail like that, shame on you, sir!

What's going through his head? He must be laughing at me, it even looks like someone from his world would look for someone from my world. E worse, I shouldn't feel anything beyond disdain for him, men like him there are lots around the world,, rich and assholes.

But why does he make me feel so many strange things? What's so different about him from the others?

"Here we are," he informs and turns off the car.

"Thank you," I thanked him without looking at him and hurried to get out of his car.

I'm so embarrassed, I grab my shopping and go to the entrance of the building, it's not very tall, there are only ten apartments, each floor is an apartment, I'm on the fourth floor.

"Is he with you?," asks the doorman as soon as I enter the concierge.

I look in his direction with a frown, who is he talking about? I look back and Filippo is only a few steps behind me. What is he doing here?

"Why are you following me?," I ask, looking at him suspiciously.

"I'm going to get paid, ragazza," he answers.

Goggle my eyes, this can only be a joke, what does he think I am, you think just because he gave me a job, a ride and paid for my little purchases, he really thinks he's going to force me to do him some kind of "dirty" favor? Oh, he's so wrong! The most he's going to get is a beautiful kick in his balls.

"What do you think you'll get in payment?", I ask with a raised eyebrow.

He smiles sideways and points to my shopping bag, I look at him again and lift my bag. I didn't understand what he meant.

"I want you to share some of your dinner with me. You can't deny me that," he says smugly.

I bite my lip embarrassed, and I with my dark thoughts, but I never expected him to just want some of the macaroni, even though he is Italian, and my father told me that one of the favorite dishes of these people is macaroni, and also , in a way I am also Italian and I love this dish.

Is it really a good idea to let him come with me? It's just the two of us in that apartment, what if I can't concentrate and end up burning out? Enough of that Rê, my dad always told me never to owe anyone a favor, and if he wants some food in return for all he's done for me, it doesn't cost me anything to give it, so we're even.

"Okay," I sighed, giving up.

We head for the elevator, why does any space where he's next to me seem to be too small? I try to control myself so I'm not shaking like a green stick. I open the door to my apartment and turn on the light, take off my shoes and feel my toes relax as they come into contact with the plush carpet. At last I will be able to enjoy my new home a little.

Filippo also takes off his shoes, wow, how polite, I thought he was going to come in with his shoes on.

"How long have you lived here?", he asks looking around.

"Well, it's going to be ten hours from the five minutes," I answer smiling and continue to the kitchen.

I put the things on the table and do my best to forget about the presence of this man in my kitchen, watching carefully every step I take. A difficult task, but with much effort I get to make the food without burning and the full is delicious, that of giving water in the mouth.

I leave the plate on the table, unfortunately there is no juice in the refrigerator, only a bottle of water. I take the plates and cutlery and place them on the table, I serve him first and serve myself later.

"It smells good," he says before tasting it, "what did your mother teach you?"

"No, it was my father," I answered smiling.

"Your father is Italian?"

"He was," I say sadly, I roll the macaroni in the yoke and the lead up to the mouth.

He doesn't say anything, we eat in silence, it's even nice to have someone else to share the table at mealtime. I was alone for so long that I had even forgotten that feeling. I look under my eyelashes, he eats very elegantly, but he doesn't express any kind of reaction, so I don't know if he is enjoying his meal or not.

"What are you doing?," I asked, confused.

He takes my empty plate, joins it with his and walks to the sink.

"I'm going to wash the dishes," he answers, already with his back to me.

I get up in a hurry and follow him, I can not let him wash my dishes, the visitor can not wash the dishes, well, at least not on the first trip to the person's house.

"No need," I tried to take the dishes out of his hand, "Let me wash."

He raises his arms preventing me from taking the dishes, our height differences are too great. He takes a step, breaking our small distance, his woody smell invades my nostrils catching me off guard, I restrain myself from taking a deep breath. He looks into my eyes, we stare at each other in a silent war, a war I have no chance of winning, his intense gaze makes me want to look away from, it is as if he can see my soul, but at the same time, I am mesmerized and trapped in them.... He brings his face closer to mine, every inch he gets closer, my heart beats harder more. Our noses are only inches apart, once again alerts flash red in my mind, I quickly pull away and return to the table, scratching my throat feeling uncomfortable, he just laughs and turns back to the sink.

What was he going to do? My heart is almost going for my mouth, no man ever came so close like that to me. My hands are sweating cold.

Was he really going to kiss me?

I look at your back and it's so big, like touching him? I try to control my breathing, this man is testing my sanity.

I need to stay calm, this is not the kind of man I want for my future children.

"I'm done," he says drying his hands on the cloth and pulls me out of my dalliance, "Thank you very much for the meal, ragazza."

"You're welcome," I smile faintly, I want this man out of here, I need to be alone and organize myself mentally.

"Would you take me to the door," he asks.

"Oh, yes, of course!"

I step forward and open the door, he puts on his shoes one more time and walks past me, his scent lingers. My body tenses when I feel his lips on my right cheek and then on my left. My heart stops in my throat.

"See you tomorrow, Renata," he says goodbye, turns and leaves.

He closes the door, hearing my name pronounced in his Italian accent makes strange things move in my stomach. I enjoyed hearing him say my name.

Will I see him tomorrow? Today, after being hired, I didn't see him until it was time to go home.

Better put it out of my head, I need to sleep, that's for sure. Tomorrow belongs to God alone.