Chapter 3 3-Nicole Santoro

My mood was terrible the day after the chaos. I should get used to it, after all, it's not the first time it's happened. It won't be the last. What's wrong with men? Why am I always attracted to the emotional ones, when all I want is a jerk who wants the same things as me? Don't judge me. It's not that I never want to settle down, build a family, or spend the rest of my life with just one person. I want that, at some point. Just not now. Everything is too unstable in my life. Starting with my career, which isn't exactly what I planned for my future. Every worker's goal is to progress, to rise through the ranks, and to be recognized for doing what they love. And that happened to me one day. When all that was snatched away from me, I was forced to take a job as a secretary, earning a good living, but having to accept a bullying boss as a bonus. I had no experience in the field when they took me on three years ago, but my CV was excellent and they were desperate to find someone. Now I understand why. I arrived earlier than I was used to because I couldn't sleep a wink and I was getting anxious about seeing the sunrise, so it was barely six o'clock and I was getting ready to come to the company. At least work has a great power to occupy my time and make me forget the messes I get myself into. If I had a book about my life, my encounters would be tragic and comic at the same time, because there are things that only happen to me. I swear. If I told you everything... When I put my bag on my desk, I put my head, which is beginning to throb from the sleepless night, between my hands and let out a loud sigh, mentally preparing myself for the workday. I'd be lucky if Valentin had to spend the whole day out of the office, without needing me for anything, but I can't ask for too much. I'd have to be lucky, and that's not part of my life, unfortunately. Furthermore, I know he's here even if it's too early because Valentin is always up early. It's impossible to get there before him. I've even wondered if he's leaving. All that proves to me that he's going home is the change of clothes, but what time does a man fit social life into his insane routine? I go to the pantry and prepare two coffees, a strong, unsweetened one for me and a decaf for Valentin. I take a sip of mine and go back to work. Likewise, I leave a cup on my desk and go to my boss's office. Without managing to put a fake smile on my face this time, I knock on the door and wait for him to permit me to enter. I open the door slowly and the smell of his perfume hits me. The room always looks like this, even at night. How does it last so long? It's as if the scent permeates every corner of the place. At least it's nice. Because if it were bad, as well as enduring the unpalatable personality, I'd have to breathe impure air. "Good morning, Mr. Salvatore. I've canceled the lunch meeting, as you asked. Can I keep the four o'clock?" I say everything very quickly while leaving the cup on his desk. When I look at my boss, he seems surprised to see me there. I don't know if it's because of the time or because I've followed his advice to stay sober. Not that I obeyed him, anyway. I just don't like drinking too much when I'm meeting a guy. Not ever. Just a few drinks, within my limits. I don't trust any man enough to be that vulnerable. "Did you fall out of bed, Miss Santoro?" "No, sir. I wanted to get home early to get some things done." I tell him the half-truth and stare at him, interlacing my fingers in front of my body, waiting for his daily scrutiny. Not only that, but I think he's looking at me for something to use against me. "Your date wasn't good?" "I don't think that's any of your business," I say acidly, feeling a twinge in my head. "It is my business when your personal life starts to interfere with your performance and the day-to-day running of my company, Miss Santoro." "Yeah? And when did that happen?" I ask, letting out an ironic laugh, devoid of humor. If it were any other time, I could keep trying to be a better person, but Mr. Salvatore caught me on a bad day. If he thinks he can have a say in my life, ignoring the fact that he's just my boss, I can ignore that too. "I can name a long list," he says, acting premeditated. When he gets up from his chair, I have to raise my head a lot to continue the silent battle of looks, because the son of a bitch is too tall and I'm too short. We're opposites even in this respect. As he takes slow steps closer to me, I remain still. He never gets too close, as if he's putting an invisible barrier between us, and I'm grateful because otherwise I'd be too distracted. I breathe noisily, trying to control my temper. "Would you like me to quote it for you?" he asks seriously, without a trace of irony or jest in his deep, husky voice. "I'd love to hear it, sir!" "Well, first, your frequent hangovers. There's no point in changing your lenses for big-framed glasses to try and hide your deep-set eyes, or wearing stronger perfume to disguise the smell of alcohol that sticks to your skin." Okay, he managed to put me off with that one. I didn't think he'd be that observant. The man barely looks at me! How can he tell when I'm wearing glasses or not? And it's not my fault that when I drink more than usual on outings with Nat and Maya, my body exhales! It must be my blood type, which is incompatible with drinking. No matter how many baths I take, the traitor in my body always gives me away. "Let's see what else..." Valentin moves away from me just enough to lean on his desk, his arms crossed in front of his body, further highlighting the muscles that can't be hidden even by his dress shirt. "There are also your mood swings, of course, when something in your evening doesn't go as you'd like. The stress, the snippy tone you use with your boss, and your complete lack of patience for the idiocy of other employees." Oh my God!