Seduced by the Italian Billionaire Read online

  Dressing in white Capri pants and a navy blue top, I realized that only time would tell if Benito had really meant what he'd said and would call me. And if he didn't, I knew I'd survive. I'd move on stronger and wiser. But I also knew I'd survive with a little ache in my heart. I'd never met a man I'd felt so strongly and instantly attracted to. I'd also never met a man who'd made me feel so special. I'd never met a man who'd taken me to such lofty heights of ecstasy in the bedroom, and on only our first night together.

  While applying a little eye shadow, I couldn't help but think about our bedroom activities in detail, my pulse accelerating. I thought about how Benito had held me close while we were kissing, one hand caressing my hip. My thoughts wandered, and I thought about how he'd looked naked, soft light illuminating his chiseled chest, defined abs, and strong thighs. I thought about how his rod-straight manhood, pointing right at the ceiling, had looked. I thought about how it had felt to have his head between my thighs, his mouth on my most sensitive parts. How it had felt to have him inside of me.

  But soon I threw the eye-shadow compact in my makeup bag, shaking my head. "No, Felicia. Better not to torture yourself with these thoughts until you know if you're even going to see him again."

  That afternoon at the barbeque, I jumped and ripped my phone out of my pocket when it rang, not really expecting a call from Benito so soon, but maybe just hoping a little bit anyway. But it wasn't him. It was someone asking if I was happy with my current phone plan.

  Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday went by slowly, Benito never far from my thoughts. I went to bed each night trying, but failing, not to think about him. Several times I dreamed about him holding me, both of us naked, our arms and legs entwined. I dreamed about him moving inside of me, my hands running up and down his broad back. I dreamed about both of our voices rising in cries of pleasure. I never wanted to wake up from these dreams, because I didn't know if they were all I'd ever have.

  Wednesday rolled around before I had a chance to meet Tasha for coffee and tell her what all had happened with Benito in any great detail. She'd been working a lot the previous few days, waiting tables, and we'd only been able to exchange a few quick texts.

  She sat sipping her latte, listening quietly. Way too quietly for her to not have something on her mind. And after telling her the most important parts about Benito's and my time together after the club, I asked her what she was thinking about.

  She stared at the foamy surface of her drink for a few moments, uncharacteristically silent, before lifting her gaze to my face. "Well...I guess I'm not even thinkin' about anything. I guess I'm just -- my mind's blown. Like, if my brain was a computer, the hard drive or whatever just been zapped."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean just, this whole Benito dude thing. My mind is just like, blown."

  "You're worried he's going to break my heart and put me into another tailspin, aren't you?"

  "Not exactly. My brain ain't even got that far."

  "Well, what, then?"

  "Girl, you just gotta give me a minute. I think I'm still in shock."

  "About what? That he was so good in bed? Or that I slept with him so quickly?"

  "Nope, neither of those things. I knew you needed to live it up, and I'm glad you took my advice. And as for him being good in bed -- " Tasha gave me a sly smile and the hint of a wink. "I could already tell he would be just by seein' his moves on the dance floor. I do got eyes on my face, ya know. None of that stuff's what I'm shocked about. None of that stuff's why I almost fell down the front steps just leavin' my building today."

  "Well, what made you?”

  "'Cuz I was scrollin' through some stuff on my phone while I was walkin'. And what I saw made me skip a stair and I had to grab the rail just to keep from crashin'. We mighta been meetin' up in the busted-leg wing of a hospital today if it weren't for that rail."

  "Well, I'm glad you're okay. But what was so shocking on your phone that it made you trip? And what does whatever it was have to do with Benito?"

  Tasha drained the last of her latte and tucked a strand of glossy black hair behind one ear. "I don't even know how to say this. Because I just don't know how you're gonna feel about it. And maybe you won't even feel any certain way, and maybe it won't even change any of your feelings for this dude. But maybe it'll just make you feel how I feel. Maybe it'll just make you feel like -- just straight-up shocked."

  I scooted forward to the edge of my chair. "Well, what is it? Just spit it out!"

  "Okay. Well, so you know how when you go in to check your email, and there's all these news stories and pictures and stuff when you sign in, before you even get to your email?"

  I scooted even closer to the edge of my chair. "Faster. What do news stories have to do with Benito?"

  Tasha took a deep breath. "Felicia, do you know what he does for a living?"

  I thought for a moment. "Well, yeah. He's in computer technology or something. He told us that at the club. And I know he must be pretty good at it, just because of -- just because of how affluent he is, I guess. And not that that matters to me, because I'd still be interested in him even if he lived in a shoe box -- but I know that him being affluent probably means he's pretty good at his job."

  Tasha stared at me with a look I couldn't quite read. "Girl --you have no idea."

  "About what?"

  "You have no – freakin’ -- idea."

  "About what, Tasha? You've gotta tell me the full story right now. I'm dying here."

  She slowly leaned back in her cafe chair, stretching. "Nope. Not yet. Because you just made me think of a question I wanna ask ya before I tell ya. And I think I already know the answer, but I think maybe you just need to say the answer out loud for you, just so that if this thing with Benito goes any further, even if it someday goes all the way, you'll always know what your answer was, and nobody can change it, or take it away from you, and you'll know. You'll know what your answer was before you even knew the full story about Benito."

  "Well, what's the question?"

  "Back what you said a minute ago -- that you'd still be interested in this dude even if he lived in a shoe box. Well, say that was the case; say he lived in a shoebox in the Bronx, like us. Say maybe he waited tables like me, or say maybe he was a teacher like you. Say maybe he worked hard for what he had, but what he had wasn't much. Say the fanciest place he could ever take you to was a hamburger joint." Tasha paused, studying my face. "Would you still, in all complete and totally, be interested in this Benito dude? And search your heart, girl. This is important."

  I didn't even need to search. I already knew how I felt.

  "Yes. Yes, I'd definitely still be interested in him. For sure. Because I guess it's like this -- the penthouse was nice. It was luxurious, and kind of a thrill to be in. The expensive champagne was nice. It was fun to have a treat like that. It was fun to be indulged. But all that was secondary to the way Benito made me feel. How he treats me. Like when we were dancing, and all those gorgeous girls were around, but he didn't even glance at them. He only had eyes for me. And like when he called me beautiful that night and seemed like he really meant it. I even told him some stories over breakfast the next morning, about growing up in Detroit, and I even told him a couple of the -- the painful parts of my childhood, and he just listened so attentively, like he was really interested in my life, like he really wanted to find out more and more about me. And I just loved the way that made me feel. I just loved the way he made me feel the entire time I was with him. As if he really cared, and as if he had all the time in the world for me. So -- I guess it all boils down to this. I think he's a good man, and he has a good heart. And that's exactly what I want, and what's most important to me. I want a man with a good heart, and the rest is just bonus. So if the penthouse, and the champagne, and the fancy car, if all that stuff fell away, and if Benito were just a sanitation worker from the Bronx, yes. Yes, I'd definitely still be interested in him. I wouldn't even care if he were a little less good-looking, eit
her. I'm definitely after him, but I'm after his caring, and his sensitivity, and his heart."

  Tasha nodded and slugged back the rest of her latte. "Okay, then. Exactly what I knew you'd say. Now, remember all you just said. Remember it good. Because if you and this dude do move in a long-term direction, there might be some people who gonna say that all you just said is not what's really in your heart. They might say that you got other intentions and motivations in your heart -- bad ones. And you gonna need to remember your words just now so you'll know -- that they don't even have a clue what's up. So remember your words, and I'll even be your witness that all this was everything that was truly in your heart. Okay?"

  I nodded, thoroughly confused. " 'Kay."

  "Good. Now, get ready. 'Cuz I'm about to say this." Tasha leaned across the little table and lowered her voice. "Felicia -- Benito is a billionaire."

  "A -- a what?"

  "A billionaire."

  "A -- a billionaire?"

  "A billionaire."

  "A billionaire? Like -- with a b?"

  "What'd it sound like I said? He an astronaut? He a dentist? He secretly an alien from outer space? He a billionaire. With a b. And with lots and lots of zeroes in the number of his net worth dollar amount. Probably like, fifty or somethin'."

  I sat back in my chair, just as shocked as Tasha had thought I might be. I couldn't even speak. Music played from speakers near the front of the coffeehouse, a song with lyrics that repeated the phrase "big spender" over and over again.

  After several moments, I found my voice. "Wait. Let me get this perfectly straight. Did you just say Benito's a -- a billionaire?"

  "Now, c'mon. I know ya ain't got hearin' problems."

  I sat silently for a long moment, just as mind-blown as Tasha had been. "So,

  Like -- computers?"

  She nodded, her pink sequined drop earrings bobbing. "Yeah. Computers something-or-other. Tech junk. A big internet company. And he's the one who started the whole thing, and he's the one who still runs it, and he's the majority owner dude or whatever. But that wasn't even what the news article was about. The article was mostly about how the company stock just went public or whatever, and how everyone's just all fallin' all over themselves to buy it and stuff. Had a picture of homeboy right up at the top of the article, along with his full name, Benito Fabriccio. Kind of a cool-sounding name, ain't it?"

  I sat speechless.

  Tasha took an enormous bite of a blueberry muffin. "Oh, this is hella good."

  She offered me a bite, but I declined, my mouth suddenly dry.

  "Tasha, do you understand what this means?"

  "You about to get bought your own pony?"

  She laughed and took another big bite of her muffin. I took a sip of my cappuccino just to moisten my dry mouth, not even tasting it.

  Tasha swallowed her bite and wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. "Sorry, 'Lecia. What do it mean?"

  "It means -- " I sighed, a sudden ache in my chest, having difficulty even getting the words out. "It means Benito's not going to call me. It means – ’’ I sighed.

  "Basically, it means all hope is lost. It means I'll never see him again."

  "How do ya figure?"

  I briefly rubbed the ache around my upper chest, thinking of when Benito had trailed a line of kisses from my collarbone to my ear, his mouth exquisitely careful and slow. Thinking about how special and cared-for he'd made me feel.

  I sighed so forcefully it sent a paper napkin skittering across the table.

  "Oh, I really, really liked him. What I get for getting my hopes up, I guess."

  "But how do ya figure he ain't gonna call ya?"

  I snorted. "Are you serious? If he's really a billionaire-"

  "He is. You think I can't read a news article or somethin'?"

  "Well, then, he'll never want anything more to do with me."

  "Why?"

  "Because billionaires can have anyone. Especially a very attractive one like him. Especially one with his confidence and charm. He could have any actress, or any singer, or any entertainer at all. He could have a supermodel. So why would he want me in the long-term? Why would he want a boring ol' teacher? A teacher who lives in a dinky little apartment in the Bronx. I guess I must have just been a night of fun."

  A lump suddenly rose in my throat, and I swallowed it down with difficulty.

  "I guess I just feel kind of stupid right now. Just like -- a little embarrassed. I actually let myself believe that he really might call me. I actually let myself believe that he – ’’

  The lump in my throat returned, and I swallowed it down again.

  "That he might genuinely be interested in me in the long-term, and that he might even already care about me a little. But he must have been just being polite."

  "Hey." Tasha set her muffin down and reached for my hand across the table. "Hey. That might all still be true. And why wouldn't it be? What's a supermodel got that you don't?"

  I bit back a laugh. "Well, just for starters, most supermodels are sophisticated, and glamorous, and well-traveled. They're cultured and elegant. They never get to work and realize they're wearing two different colored socks. And let's not even pretend that my looks are anywhere near a supermodel's. Like, it won't even hurt my feelings at all if you agree. I'm aware that I'm not a total knockout."

  Tasha squeezed my hand. "Look. Neither of us is perfect-lookin', but that don't even matter. To some men, that ain't even the most important thing. Some men, they don't even want all that flawless, and perfect, and don't-touch-her-or-she'll-break kinda crap. Some men, it's more important to them that their lady be kind, and real, and cool, above all else. And when he starts seein' her like that, then she's beautiful in his eyes, and then that's all he can see. And maybe that's the way homeboy was lookin' at you Saturday night."

  I shrugged, not convinced.

  Tasha squeezed my hand again. "He was probably lookin' at you like that. And you is beautiful on the outside, no matter what you think, and he was lookin' at all that, but he was probably also lookin' at all that combined with the whole total package you got...the beauty on the outside and the inside. And he was just thinkin' like, damn. Supermodels ain't got nothin' on this girl. So don't count this dude out just yet. He probably be callin' you sometime tomorrow. And by the way, you know his phone is just a straight-up monster-size diamond. He don't even gotta punch any numbers on it; he just aim it at the sun, and it just call up whoever the hell he want."

  I cracked a smile, but despite Tasha's encouraging words, by the next day, I'd fully convinced myself that I would never be hearing from Benito again. Which made it all the more surprising when my phone rang at half past two. And it was him.

  Chapter5

  Benito and I went out that weekend, and then again the next, and then we started seeing each other every single day. And then we spent the whole summer together, traveling. He told me he loved me in the Florida Keys; he told me he loved me at the top of the Eiffel Tower. He told me he loved me while we walked alongside the Thames River in London, hand in hand. And when he said it on the steps of a piazza in Rome, the city of his ancestors and the city where his parents were born, I finally believed it with certainty. Benito didn't want a supermodel, even though he could have one. He wanted me. Me, with my too-flat nose and my too-close eyes. Me, with my maybe fifteen extra pounds on my five-foot-five-inch frame. He wanted me. Wanted to share his life with me, travel the world with me, and hold me in his arms every night. Truly knowing this in my heart launched me into a level of joy I'd never known before.

  One day, while we enjoyed a picnic for two in a Parisian park, he snapped a picture of me in mid-laugh, holding a sandwich, my head thrown back just a few degrees.

  He examined the picture on his phone, his eyes intent. "Just look at it. Absolutely beautiful. No high-fashion photograph could even hold a candle to this."

  I giggled. "I think you might be exaggerating just a bit. It's just a picture of me holding a sandwich."
r />   He shook his head, still studying the picture. "No, I'm not exaggerating at all. Just look at your smile, the way it reaches all the way up to your eyes. How your eyes sparkle -- not as if light were hitting them, but more like coming from behind them. Your soft, glowing skin -- the fullness of your cheeks." He suddenly looked up from the picture, his eyes meeting mine. "God -- you're not just beautiful; you're gorgeous."

  I looked at him, smiling, my heart feeling as if it could soar right out of my chest. "You really mean that, don't you?"

  He set his phone down on the blanket we were sitting on, scooted closer to me, and gave me a kiss so sweet and tender that I actually curled my toes.

  "I mean that from the very bottom of my heart. You're absolutely gorgeous; you're stunning. And I can't imagine spending this beautiful day in Paris with anyone else but you. I can't imagine feeling this way with anyone else but you. From the very first day I met you, I knew we could find true happiness with each other. I love you more than I can even say."

  I brushed a soft kiss on his mouth, my hand on his back, pulling him closer to me, not even caring that we were in full view of a group of other people playing soccer and enjoying a picnic nearby.

  "I feel the exact same way. I don't ever want to be with anyone but you, Benito."

  Our picnic was a little cut short that day, because we soon decided we needed to get back to our hotel room, and fast, to enjoy a bit of privacy.

  On our flight back to the U.S in late August, I told him that I'd never in my life been so happy. And it was the truth. He gave me a lingering kiss, his fingers entwining with mine, and said he felt the same. A flight attendant asked if we were returning from our honeymoon.

  About a week after our return, after school had started back up and I'd gotten back into the swing of teaching, Benito and I made plans for a mid-week dinner out. He and his brother were playing golf at a club all day, so I arranged to meet him there around seven. When I arrived, I found him at the bar, Enzo sitting next to him.