Seduced by the Italian Billionaire (5 page)

            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 his 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.

            When we arrived at the house, which was a gorgeous two-story brick structure bordering on mansion level, I checked my lipstick in the visor mirror one final time.

            "Are you sure I look okay?"

            Benito smiled. "More than okay. Radiant."

            "Okay. Positive thoughts. This is going to go well."

            He smiled again. "It will. I guarantee it."

            We held hands while going up the ground-lantern-lined walkway, the lights flickering on as evening dusk approached.

            I stopped suddenly and turned to Benito. "Promise me if they don't like me, you'll still love me. Just promise me."

            He dipped his head and brushed a kiss against my cheek, smiling. "I promise. With my whole heart. And they
won't
like you -- they will love you."

            When his parents greeted us at the front door, I almost started to believe him.

            His father, a large, boisterous man who looked much like Enzo, wrapped me in a hug, telling me in his booming voice that he was happy to meet me and that I was most welcome in their home. I hugged him back, thanking him, his friendly demeanor taking the edge off my nerves instantly. Benito's mother, a petite woman with gray hair wound into a bun, kissed me on both cheeks and told me she was delighted to finally set eyes on me. I searched her face for any signs of hostility, but I didn't see any. She seemed to mean what she had said.

            She took my hands and looked me up and down. "A beautiful girl. Just as my son said. Welcome, Felicia. Welcome."

            She led me down a long marble hallway to the dining room, chattering about what she was preparing for dinner, her speech lightly accented, same as Benito's father's. I allowed myself to completely relax.

            "It all sounds delicious, Mrs. Fabriccio."

            We came to a stop just before the dining room, and she turned to me, smiling.

            "Mrs. Fabriccio was my mother-in-law. My name is Elzaveta. But friends call me Elza." She placed a hand on my arm. "And you can call me Elza."

            I grinned, my heart soaring. "Thank you, Elza."

            Benito and his father caught up with us, and his father put an arm around my shoulders, giving me a squeeze.

            "And you can call me Alonzo. Although Elza, she likes to call me a pain in the tail."

            I was soon ushered into the dining room, where Enzo sat with his wife Christina and their six-year-old son Marco. They all greeted me warmly, and Marco blurted out that he thought my hair was neat.

            "I like the way it twirls around into that twisty thing in the back."

            I grinned. "Well, thank you. That's very nice of you to say."

            "Welcome. Hey, guess what? My dad told me that my Uncle Benito's in love with you. Is that true?"

            Face flaming, but grinning, I shrugged.

            Wrapping an arm around me and pulling me close, Benito smiled. "That's very true, Marco." He planted a quick kiss on my cheek. "That's very,
very
true."

            Alonzo and Elza looked on, beaming. I could hardly believe I'd been worried about not being liked or accepted. Whatever reservations Elza might have had about her son dating a non-Italian girl seemed to have vaporized. While she sat me at the table and told me to enjoy the meal and make myself right at home, I smiled, thankful for Tasha and her infinite wisdom in urging me not to skip the dinner.

            Soon Alonzo opened a bottle of Italian sparkling wine and filled everyone's glasses, and Elza and Christina got up to finish meal preparations in the adjacent kitchen. I asked if I could help, and Elza said certainly.

            "The women of this family love to visit in the kitchen before meals, and since you are family now, we'd love to have you visit with us."