(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.