Seduced by the Italian Billionaire Read online

  Benito rose and greeted me with a hug and a kiss, his hands framing my face. "I've been looking forward to this moment all day."

  I covered his hands with my own, grinning. "Me, too."

  Enzo rose as well, but did a little stumble off his bar stool, clearly a little tipsy. He steadied himself, grinning, and wrapped me in a hug.

  "Welcome back from your travels. It's wonderful to see you, Felicia." He pulled away and gave me a kiss on each cheek. "And wonderful to know that my brother has finally settled down with a good woman."

  I smiled, glancing at Benito. "Thank you. We're very happy."

  Enzo suddenly grabbed his glass, a little liquid spilling over the rim and splattering his ample stomach. "A toast! A toast to Benito and Felicia, and to their happiness, and to the one who is responsible for their happiness -- which is me!"

  He drained his glass, seemingly unaware that Benito wasn't drinking with him, and that I didn't even have a drink.

  He set the glass on the bar. "Yes, it was me and my idea for the bet! I should get all the credit."

  Benito's dark brows drew together like storm clouds.

  "Enzo, you've had too much to drink, and I think-"

  "It was me! Don't you remember? If I hadn't made that silly bet with you, then you and Felicia would've never even gotten together!"

  I turned to Benito. "What bet? What is he talking about?"

  Enzo clapped Benito on the back. "You both have me to thank for your happiness!"

  I folded my arms across my chest, my gaze on Benito. "What is he talking about?"

  Benito ignored me and took Enzo by the shoulders. "Your ride is waiting, and you are leaving. Now. Felicia, dear, please excuse us."

  He began steering Enzo out of the bar, several curious patrons looking on. Feeling a little self-conscious standing in the bar all by myself, I left as well and went to wait for Benito on a bench just outside the bar area, my stomach in knots. I couldn't even fathom what Enzo's talk about a bet could have been about, but just based on Benito's reaction, I could tell it was something maybe he didn't want me to know about.

  Soon he returned, raking a hand through his dark hair. "I hope you can forgive Enzo's display. He drinks too much sometimes, and he gets a little too boisterous."

  I stood up from the bench, my arms hugged around my ribs. "I get people drinking too much, and it's fine. But what did he mean about a bet? What did he mean when he said that without him making it, you and I would've never even gotten together?"

  Benito raked a hand through his hair again, avoiding my eyes. "I don't even think he knew what he was saying. When he drinks, ninety-nine percent of it is pure nonsense."

  I stared at Benito, daring him to meet my gaze. "And the other one percent? What's that?"

  His gaze flicked from the floor to the walls to a spot just above my head. But it didn't connect with my eyes.

  I took a step closer to him. "The other one percent of things Enzo says when he's drinking -- is that truth? Could it be that his talk about a bet wasn't just some alcohol-fueled rambling? Benito?"

  He finally looked at me, his expression pained. "Felicia, some things are better left in the past. Some things are better unexplained."

  "I disagree. If this bet concerns me and you, and how we got together, then I want to hear it. I deserve to hear it. And I'm not going to back down and settle for leaving whatever it's about in the past."

  Benito didn't speak right away, and when he did, his voice was low and filled with emotion.

  "I can't lose you."

  The knots in my stomach became even tighter than they already were.

  "So this bet is something so serious that you're afraid of losing me if the truth about it comes out? You better tell me everything about this bet, before you lose me anyway. You mean everything to me, and I love you with all my heart and then some, but I'm certainly not the kind of person who will stay in a relationship where people keep secrets from each other."

  Benito sighed, his broad shoulders slumping. "You're right. Keeping secrets is no way to continue building a relationship. I feel the same, and you deserve better. You're completely right. I'll tell you everything."

  Just then, a couple breezed by us on their way to the bar, and Benito waited until they were well out of earshot to continue.

  "Here's the truth, Felicia, and I apologize in advance. I apologize sincerely, and I hope you can forgive me." He took a deep breath. "The night we met at the club, Enzo and I had already had a few drinks before even arriving. We got to joking. He bet me that I couldn't get a girl into bed that night without saying that I'm a billionaire."

  The room seemed to spin.

  "He -- what?"

  "It was a stupid bet, on so many levels. The first and not the least being that I'm not an ugly man, and I've never had a problem getting women into bed even without saying I'm a billionaire, which, I've never even used that to get a woman into bed anyway. Like I said, a stupid bet on so many levels. But a little intoxicated as we were, it seemed funny to us at the time, as many stupid, ordinarily unfunny things can seem when people are drinking, and Enzo knows I'm a sucker for taking a bet, and he gets a kick out of it. So I --’’ Benito ran his hands over his face, choking back a groan. "I'm so sorry, Felicia. Please believe me. I know this is terrible."

  My words came through gritted teeth.

  "Please continue. From 'So I.' So you what, Benito?"

  He winced, taking a deep breath before continuing. "So I -- I noticed how you were looking at me when I helped you and Tasha into the club. You had a little smile in your eyes, like maybe you were interested in me. And then I noticed you looking at me again from the dance floor. And as I already found you attractive anyway, and thought you might be quite nice to sleep with, I --"

  "You what? Decided I'd be your first target?"

  Benito didn't answer, his gaze on the ground. My hands balled into fists.

  "This is amazing. Our relationship is based on some stupid, lame bet. It's based on me being your first target. It's based on you tricking me. This is just great. What a romantic way to begin things."

  "I'm so sorry, Felicia. I couldn't feel like any more of an absolute ass right now."

  Scenes of that night in the club flashed through my mind, and I gasped, having a sudden revelation.

  "Oh, my gosh. This all makes perfect sense now. All the gorgeous girls in the club. Me not being a supermodel. And yet you choosing me to dance with that night. Oh, my gosh, this all makes perfect sense."

  Tears began prickling my eyes, and I blinked them back.

  "You chose me because you thought I'd be easy to get into bed. Because I wasn't as good-looking as all the other girls. You chose me so you'd easily win the bet."

  "No, you're wrong about that."

  "Our whole relationship has been built on a lie."

  "No, that's not true. Not at all. The moment Enzo left the club and I began talking to you, I forgot all about the stupid bet. I thought you were sweet, and kind, and beautiful, and I saw myself having a future with you from our very first conversation. I slept with you that night because I was already falling for you. Not because of some childish bet that was made by two intoxicated idiots earlier in the evening. Please believe me, Felicia. Our whole relationship has not been built on a lie. If it were, I don't think we'd have made it these past three months. I don't think either of us would've felt as happy as we have. Neither of us would be able to feel deep down how genuine our feelings for each other are. I love you, Felicia, and please believe me. That feeling has nothing to do with some stupid bet."

  He looked into my eyes, his own eyes soft and pleading. I hugged my arms around my ribs even tighter, blinking back a couple tears, studying Benito. I couldn't deny that he made some good points. I couldn't deny that if our whole relationship was actually based on some dumb bet, we probably wouldn't have spent the previous three months as blissfully happy as we had.

  After several moments, he pulled me into his arms, and I d
idn't resist. And in fact, I buried my face in his strong shoulder, sniffling.

  "Just promise me that our relationship is a hundred percent real, and that you truly love me for me. I just need to hear you say it."

  He stroked my hair, his touch slow and gentle. "I promise. Our relationship is a hundred percent real, and I do truly love you for you, just the way you are. I love you more than anything. And even before all this, I was planning on proving that to you this weekend."

  I lifted my face. "What do you mean?"

  "I'd like to have you over to my family home for dinner this Saturday night. I'd like you to meet my mother and father."

  "Really?"

  "Of course. And this should tell you just how special you are to me, and just how very much I love you. See, Italian men don't just bring anyone home to meet their mothers. Only women they truly love." Benito gave me a little smile. "In our culture, it’s somewhat of a big deal."

  I smiled a little in return, a slight shiver of joy rippling through me. "I'd love to meet your mother and father. Thank you."

  Benito kissed me on the forehead, grinning. "Then it's a date."

  I looked forward to our date the next day and Friday. I went shopping with Tasha for a special outfit to wear and found a pale pink dress we both thought was perfect. But by Saturday morning, my excitement turned to nerves. I wondered if Benito's parents would like me, particularly his mom. I wondered what she'd think about me being black, and about me not having the supermodel-good looks she might expect her son's girlfriend to have. By Saturday afternoon, I sat curled up on the couch under a blanket, my stomach churning. And early Saturday evening, around five, I called Benito to cancel.

  Chapter6

  Benito came rushing over to my apartment, trying to tease out what was wrong over the phone, but I just couldn't get the words out, no matter how hard I tried. And even when he wrapped me in his arms before sitting me down on the couch, I still couldn't, afraid he'd think my anxieties were silly.

  He took my hands, kissed each of them, and looked into my eyes. "What's wrong? Why do you want to cancel? You can tell me anything."

  "I just don't want to say what it is. You might think I'm being paranoid or silly."

  "Any concern you have about this family dinner, I promise I won't think you paranoid or silly. I'll take whatever you're worried about very seriously. So tell me."

  "I just can't."

  Avoiding his eyes, I stared at the tan-and-brown fabric of the couch.

  "Felicia, tell me."

  I didn't answer.

  Benito removed one of his hands from mine and gently lifted my chin to make me meet his gaze. "There should be no secrets between us, remember? Nothing hidden from each other."

  I realized instantly he was right, and that I myself had said that just days earlier.

  I sighed. "All right. I'll just come right out and say it, then. What if your parents don't think I'm attractive enough to be with you? What if they're surprised that I'm not like...a supermodel? What if they don't think I'm worthy of you?"

  Benito sighed. "Now, that all is a little silly."

  "Is it, though?"

  "Being that you're the most gorgeous girl I've ever met, it is."

  "But I don't mean the way you see me; I mean the way the world sees me. I'm not supermodel and I know it. And I don't want your parents to be disappointed."

  "My parents will think you're just as gorgeous as I do. You have beauty that radiates from you, and someone would have to be blind not to see it. But your looks won't even matter to my parents. They only want to get to know who you are on the inside."

  "Well, okay. Then, here's the other thing, more of a cultural thing maybe. You're white -- I'm black. What if your parents have a problem with this?"

  Benito shook his head. "I can understand why you'd be worried about something like that, but they won't. My father is the most open, accepting man on the planet. He doesn't have a prejudiced bone in his body. He will be glad to see me happy, no matter what the skin tone of the girl I am with. You could be purple, green, or blue and he wouldn't care."

  I expected Benito to continue and say something similar about his mother. But he didn't.

  "And your mom?"

  His gaze traveled to a point just above my head before returning to my face.

  "Well, my mother; she is...."

  I studied Benito's face, waiting for him to finish the sentence, but he seemed to be struggling to find the right word.

  "Racist?"

  "No, no. Not exactly."

  I pulled my hand from Benito's and sprang up from the couch. "Not 'exactly'? Oh, that's it. Count me out for this dinner. Just count me the hell out."

  I began pacing the room while Benito sat on the couch, elbows on knees, his fingers tangled in his thick hair.

  "She's not racist, Felicia; she's not. She thinks of all people as equals, much as my father thinks. However, what I was going to say is that she's just very pro-Italian when it comes to her hoping and envisioning what my future wife will be like."

  "So basically, racist against anyone who isn't Italian."

  Benito cringed. "I guess in a way, but only when it comes to the woman she hopes I eventually marry. And I think this is just because she thinks an Italian woman could make me happiest. Just -- familiarity with tradition and all."

  I stopped pacing and looked at Benito with my arms folded across my chest. "And you were going to take me to this dinner, all the while knowing that your mother would take one look at me and think that I'm not the right woman for her son. And probably treat me accordingly."

  Benito got up from the couch and came to stand in front of me, his expression pained. "I wanted to take you to this dinner because I love you, and you make me so happy, and I'm so proud that you're mine. I wanted to share this joy with my family. I wanted to show them what a beautiful, warm, wonderful woman you are."

  He began running his hands up and down my folded arms, and I pulled away.

  "You probably shouldn't touch me, I'm not Italian."

  Benito cracked the tiniest smile. "Stop."

  "No, you stop. You're the one with the mother who won't think I'm the right girl for you, because I'm not the right race."

  "But once she sees you, once she gets to know you she will love you. How could she not?"

  "Easy. She doesn't like girls who aren't Italian."

  "Please, Felicia. Give her a chance. She's truly a loving, caring lady. Once she meets you, all her thoughts of wanting another Italian daughter-in-law will fade."

  "Oh, so Enzo's wife is Italian?"

  Benito winced. "...Yes."

  "Yeah...definitely not going to this dinner."

  "Please. Just go for me. Believe me, my mother will love you. Just give her a chance. For me."

  I didn't respond. Just then, my phone rang with Tasha calling, and I realized I desperately wanted to talk to her and maybe get her take on the whole dinner situation. Benito said to go ahead and answer, and take my time, so I went in my bedroom and told Tasha everything that was going on.

  She listened patiently for a minute or two before cutting me off. "Are you serious? You're just not gonna go? You completely forget about me and Mrs. Chen or somethin'?"

  I had completely forgotten about Tasha and Mrs. Chen. Mrs. Chen was the mother of a man named Li, Tasha's most serious boyfriend to date. Before meeting Tasha, Mrs. Chen insisted that she would never stand for her son to have a girlfriend that wasn't Chinese. But after meeting Tasha, they'd actually become very close, and almost instantly. It was Mrs. Chen who'd first started lobbying for her son to propose to Tasha. And even after things hadn't worked out between Tasha and Li, she still called Tasha weekly to see how she was doing and tell her she cared about her.

  "Mrs. Chen still calls me up. She's just about the sweetest lady ever lived. And just think, I woulda never even got to know her if I'd chickened out on Li taking me home for dinner that one night. But I said, 'No. Li's my man, and he wants me to meet h
is family. So I'm gonna meet 'em. And if they don't like me 'cuz I ain't Chinese, that's their problem. But I'm gonna show 'em who Tasha is. I'm gonna show 'em that I'm a good person with a good character, and if they wanna hate on a person like that, then they in the wrong.' But I was gonna show 'em who I was. I was gonna hold my head up high. Wasn't gonna let no little thing like some lady only wantin' a Chinese girl for her son slow me down from bein' me. No way. No, sir. And then look what happened. Me and Mrs. Chen ended up bein' best of friends."

  I realized Tasha's approach was right. I realized I should at least give Benito's mom a chance. And I should go to the dinner, if for nothing else, just to show her that if she was going to dislike me, she was going to have to dislike a decent, friendly, and polite person who cared enough to meet her boyfriend's family and try to make a good first impression.

  I sighed into the phone. "Why do you always just -- talk me into things?"

  Tasha laughed. "What are best friends for? Have fun, girl!"

  I hung up and rejoined Benito in the living room. "You set her up to call me or something?"

  Benito cocked an eyebrow. "No, but I think I might be glad she did."

  "Well, yeah. Be glad. Because I guess I'm going. And if your mom doesn't like me, at least I'll have showed her what kind of a person I am."

  Benito crossed the room, grinning, and took me in his strong arms. "I'm so happy. And once my mother sees how happy you make me, she'll love you just as much as I do. She'll be welcoming you into the family with open arms."

  I nodded into his shoulder. "Okay. I hope so."

  After I'd put my hair up in a twist, applied a little makeup, and dressed in the pale pink dress Tasha and I had picked out, Benito and I left my apartment and headed to his family's home on Long Island. Every so often during the drive, he reached for my hand and gave it a little squeeze. I focused my mental energy on positive thoughts, telling myself that it was entirely possible that Tasha's experience with Mrs. Chen was something that could happen to me, too. I tried convincing myself that it was, in fact, certain to happen to me, too.