Amore mio 2

61.

Lionel's P.O.V.

Today is a very important Monday. 

I am showing around our new receptionist because Florence, our previous one, went on maternity leave. I am in charge of showing her all the ropes and supervising her. 

"Qui parliamo in italiano, ma abbiamo clienti con cui comunichiamo nella loro lingua madre. Questo è l'elenco di queste persone e delle lingue che usano."- I told Daria and gave her the freshly printed-out list of our 50 VIP clients. (We talk in Italian here, but we have clients, with whom we communicate in their mother tongues. This is the list of those people and the languages they use.)

"Questo è l'elenco dei familiari del signor Russo. Hanno accesso a tutto e conoscono ogni angolo di questo edificio, quindi quando arrivano, fatevi gli affari vostri e non avvicinatevi a loro."- I told her and handed her another list with the names of Mr Russo's children and wife on the top and his parents and in-laws below. (This is the list of Mr. Russo's family members. They have access to everything here and know every corner of this building, so when they come, you keep minding your business and do not come near them.)

"Rosa - la moglie e i figli. Giallo - i genitori e i suoceri."- I pointed at the highlighted names as she read and nodded in understatement. (Pink - his wife and their children. Yellow - his parents and in-laws.) 

"E come li riconoscerò?"- she asked while placing the lists inside her notepad. (And how will I recognise them?)

I took my phone and searched for the latest photo of Mr. and Mrs. Russo on the Internet before showing it to her. 

"I loro figli sono la loro immagine sputata. Li riconoscerete senza fatica. I ragazzi sono molto alti e hanno tutti i capelli ricci, proprio come il signor Russo, e le ragazze sono la copia della madre."- I told her calmly with a smile, always happy to see the boss's little ones around, they are adorable. (Their children are their spitting image. You will recognise them effortlessly. Their boys are very tall and all of them have curly hair, just like Mr. Russo, and their girls are copies of their mother.)

"Sono... sposati?"- Daria asked exceedingly carefully and I frowned, baffled by her stupid question. (They are...married?) 

"Certo, lo sono. Il signor Russo adora sua moglie e venera il suo matrimonio."- I said mildly, taking a double take at the look in her eyes. (Of course, they are. Mr. Russo adores his wife and he worships his marriage.) 

Oh, for fuck's sake, no. 

"Daria, sei una donna intelligente, un'ottima persona per questo lavoro, che, ti ricordo, ha un ottimo stipendio. Non si faccia cacciare da qui perseguendo il signor Russo o, Dio non voglia, sua moglie. Non guarderà mai e poi mai un'altra donna, quindi non perda tempo. La signora Russo è tutto per il capo, quindi il mio consiglio è di non mettersi in mezzo."- I said quieter, letting only her hear me, and she glanced aside, nodding in what hopefully is genuine, clearer than daylight understatement. (Daria, you are a smart woman, a great person for this job, which, may I remind you, has a very handsome paycheck. Do not get yourself kicked out of here by going after Mr. Russo or, God forbid, his wife. He will never ever even look at another woman, so do not waste your time. Mrs Russo is everything to the boss, so my advice - do not get in between.)

She is the best candidate out of the 60 we had. 

It would be a damn shame to lose her because of her crush on the boss and desire to be in Signora Russo's place. 

I gave her a few more instructions before leaving, trusting her to handle herself and the reception, which will be very busy because it is Monday and Signor Russo has a day full of meetings and conferences.