The Lesson (9 page)

Like Ivan the
Terrible,
Bianca thought insanely.
Alexander the Great. Vlad the Impaler. Mason the First! Dear
God, I’m losing my mind.

She had to stifle a giggle and tried to hide
her shaken nerves with a smile. “I’m very pleased to meet you
both,” she murmured. “Mason has told me so much about you.”

Why did I say that?
she thought.
Everything he’s told me
is awful. What if they ask? I
am
losing it.

“My dear,” Mason the First declared with a
charming smile. “You mustn’t believe anything he says. He’s a
terrible liar and I’m not half the monster he makes me out to
be.”

“Oh, no,” Bianca blushed. “He hasn’t said
anything of the sort. He, I-“

Vivian Freeman laughed a tinkling laugh that
seemed to possess no humor, and plucked a champagne glass from the
tray of a passing waiter with a gloved hand. “Don’t listen to him,
dear. He’s an awful tease. That said, while my son may have told
you about us, he has told us nothing about you.”

Bianca glanced at Mason, who gave her a
terse smile. “An oversight, I assure you,” he told his mother.

“Russo,” mused Mason the First, his sharp
eyes studying her. “How very Italian.”

“Yes,” Bianca agreed, biting the inside of
her cheek.

“Tell us, dear,” Vivian asked as she sipped
her champagne. “Are your parents new Americans?”

“New Americans?” Bianca echoed.
What on earth is she getting at?

“When did your people come over?” Vivian
asked, raising one finely plucked eyebrow.

“The Freemans have been pillars of industry
since the sixteen hundreds.” Mason the First declared, his chest
puffing with pride. “We were some of the first settlers in
Jamestown.”

Bianca stared at them, uncertain how she was
supposed to respond. “How nice,” she finally managed.
“Unfortunately, I can’t claim such an illustrious past. My
great-grandparents came over in the early nineteen hundreds.”

“We’re very proud of our heritage,” Vivian
continued. “And I could tell your family hasn’t been here long just
by looking at you. You’re very pretty, aren’t you?” she fingered
the stem of her glass. “So very native.”

Mason stepped forward and placed a hand on
Bianca’s shoulder and looked down at her. “I disagree with Mother,”
he smiled. “You’re not just pretty, you’re stunning.”

And so very native,
the little voice inside her sneered.
She means common. Poor. Low class.

I’m just as good as they
are,
Bianca argued.

Keep telling yourself that. You might
actually believe it, but will they?

Shut up!

Vivian ignored her son, fixing her gaze on
Bianca. “Tell us dear, where did you meet my ill-bred son?”

“Um, economics.” Bianca tried to keep her
hands still, even though they insisted on twisting together
nervously. “At PSU.”

“Are you studying business?” Mason the First
asked.

“No. Yes. Business administration,” Bianca
amended lamely.

“Ah,” Mason the First nodded. “Perhaps when
you finish you’ll apply at Freeman Industries. We’re always on the
lookout for competent secretaries.”

Bianca flushed and wished the floor
would open up and swallow her.
A
secretary?
she thought.
Really? He thinks I’m going to be nothing more than a
glorified receptionist?

Nothing wrong with
that,
the little voice inside her mocked.
Honest work. The most someone like you could
expect.

Bullshit.

The voice remained silent for once.

She glanced up at Mason. He smiled, but his
jaw clenched and she knew he was angry. Still, he said nothing.

“How kind of you to offer,” she replied,
smiling as sweetly as she knew how.

“Not at all,” Mason the First replied,
finishing his drink and signaling a waiter for another. “Tell me,
Bianca, what do your parents do?”

Of course he’d ask about
your parents.
Bianca felt like crying. She’d never
been so far out of her depth in her life.
Even if they were alive, it wouldn’t matter. They still
wouldn’t be good enough. I wouldn’t be good enough.

I told you this would
happen,
the voice practically screamed at her.
This was never going to be more than a fling.
Your world and his are too far apart.

“My parents died when I was young,” Bianca
answered faintly. “My grandfather raised me.”

“Well, that’s just awful, isn’t it?” Vivian
shuddered.

“Yes, yes, just awful,” echoed Mason the
First as the waiter returned with his drink. “And what does your
grandfather do?”

They’re like a dog with a
bone,
she thought with astonishment.
They pretend to be pleasant but they’re horrible.
Awful.
She glanced up at Mason again, who still wore
the same unhappy smile.

And still remained silent. Bianca found
herself growing angry.

“My grandfather was a clerk in a small
grocery store for thirty years,” she answered. “He’s been an
amazing role model, kind and loving, and has always supported me,
whatever my goals have been. I’m very lucky to have him.”

“I’m sure you are, dear,” Mason the First
nodded. “Now myself, I prefer ambition!” He pointed at Mason with
his forefinger, tumbler still in hand. “This one should be coming
to work for us soon, and about damn time, I say.”

Mason nodded slightly. “Yes, father. When
school is done.”

Bianca stared at him. What about his art?
His parents didn’t seem to care about anything but status and money
and what they wanted. Her anger mushroomed inside her and she spoke
before she could stop herself. “Seems a waste of talent to me.”

“What?” Mason the First growled. “What do
you mean?”

“Bianca, let it go,” Mason murmured in her
ear.

She ignored him. “Mason is an incredible
artist. Surely you’ve seen his work?”

“He’s never going to make a living with his
little drawings,” Mason the First practically thundered. “Business.
Commerce. That’s the way to success. Besides, someone needs to
follow in my footsteps.”

Vivian gave her a sharp look before
covering it with a saccharine smile. “You know, dear, now that I
think about it, you do look familiar. Where
have
I seen you?” She glanced at Mason and
pretended to deliberate.

“Mother,” he said, a warning in his
voice.

Vivian snapped her gloved fingers. “I
remember now! Isn’t she the model for that lovely nude I saw in
your studio the last time I was at your apartment?”

Bianca felt all the blood rush from her face
as she peered up at Mason. “You showed her the painting?” she
whispered.

“Painting
s
, my dear,” Vivian declared with false gaiety.
“There were several. Nudes, all of them. Very lovely, as I said.
Tell me, Bianca,” the older woman leaned toward her
conspiratorially, “do you enjoy that sort of thing?”

Bianca continued to stare at Mason who shook
his head slightly. “Let it go,” he murmured, running a hand through
his hair.

Let it go?
Bianca had never been so humiliated in her life. Or angry,
for that matter. Angry at Mason’s parents for their judgmental
attitudes, and even more angry at Mason for not standing up for
her.

How dare he
,
she thought
. How dare he just stand there
while they talk to me like I’m trash?

She turned to Vivian. “What sort of thing is
that?” she asked.

Vivian gave her a cold smile. “Why taking
off your clothes, dear,” she replied smoothly. “So men can look at
you and … paint you.”

Bianca gasped and looked at Mason again. He
refused to meet her gaze, staring at the floor instead.

How did I not see it
before?
she thought with sudden disdain.
You’re weak.
You’ll
never stand up for me, will you? Or for yourself.

Bianca wanted to cry, but another part of
her refused to give in. Instead, she turned to Vivian Freeman and
flashed her a dazzling smile. “Actually, I do,” she answered. “I
quite enjoy it. In fact, I took them all off before we came here
tonight. Every stitch, didn’t I, Mason?” She flashed him the same
smile and stepped closer to him, deliberately pressing her breasts
against him. “I just can’t seem to help myself.”

“Bianca,” Mason protested slightly.

“
And why wouldn’t you?” Vivian Freeman
declared archly. “A pretty thing like you. You know, dear, that’s a
lovely necklace you’re wearing. Where ever did you get such a
trinket?” She laughed lightly and gave Mason a scolding look.
“Mason, darling, is that what that outrageous charge on your credit
card was for? I didn’t know you were buying silly baubles for your
girls these days.”

Bianca sucked in a breath, furious, and
opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, the cell phone
in her purse chimed.

She opened the purse and pulled it out. It
was her home number. “I have to take this,” she gritted.

Mason the First and Vivian stared at her and
she knew they were judging her for having the bad manners to answer
her phone in the middle of a conversation.

“Can’t it wait?” Mason whispered.

“It’s Nonno,” she snapped at him. “You saw
him when you picked me up. He wasn’t feeling well tonight.”

She turned away from them and hit the answer
button. “Nonno?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

When he answered his breathing sounded
labored and his voice harsh. “I hate to bother you, my sweet girl,
but I’m not feeling well. I think I might need to go to the
emerge-“ he gasped and trailed off. A moment later Bianca heard a
dull thud.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Nonno?” Bianca called. He didn’t answer.
“Nonno, answer me,” she tried again. Panic welled inside her.
“Nonno!”

She turned to Mason. “He was there and then
he wasn’t. Something is wrong.”

“Perhaps you dropped the call,” Mason
suggested.

She glared at him, but hit end on the
phone and then dialed her home number. “It’s busy,” she told him.
“Something is definitely wrong. I need to go home.
Now
.”

Mason glanced uncertainly at his
parents.

“Mason, dear,” his mother said in dulcet
tones. “I believe she’s right. I really do think it would be best
if you took your little friend home.” She turned to address Bianca.
“It was lovely to meet you, dear. You have a wonderful evening.”
With her final, dismissive words, Vivian took her husband’s hand
and they walked away, Mason the First leaning over to whisper in
his wife’s ear. The older woman laughed softly, and then they were
gone, melting into the crowded room.

“Take me home now,” she snarled at
Mason.

Once they were in the car, Bianca continued
to try her home number, getting a busy signal each time. “How could
you do that to me?” she blurted as she dialed the phone number
again. “How could you let them humiliate me like that?”

“It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to
be,” Mason answered weakly. “Besides, you don’t know the kind of
shit I’m going to have to deal with for leaving in the middle of
the party.”

“I’m so sorry,” she responded sarcastically.
“I apologize for my sick grandfather interrupting your upper crust
soiree.” She shook her head. “I was a fool to think we could ever
be together.”

“What are you saying?” he asked. “I love
you, you love me. Of course we belong together.”

She shook her head. “He’s still not
answering. I’m calling 9-1-1.”

She dialed the emergency number and
explained what had happened to the operator. After a few minutes,
she hung up. “An ambulance is on its way,” she told Mason.

“I don’t want to lose you just because you
don’t get along with my parents,” Mason said, picking right back up
where they’d left off.

“You’re kidding, right?” she barked a
humorless laugh. “Don’t get along? That’s not the problem here. The
problem is that I’ll never be good enough for them. Which means
I’ll never be good enough for you. Your life will never be your
own. You’ll never stand up for yourself. And if you can’t stand up
for yourself, how will you ever stand up for me? You stood there
and let your parents fling insult after insult at me. Your mother
all but called me a whore!”

“She didn’t say that. Besides, you don’t
understand,” he snapped as he careened around a corner. “I have
obligations whether I like it or not. You can’t possibly know what
it’s like.”

“You’re right,” she yelled. “I can’t
possibly know what it’s like to be such a pretentious,
condescending ass.”

Mason clamped his mouth shut as he screeched
to a halt in front of Bianca’s house. She leapt from the car and
rushed up the walkway, flinging the front door open. “Nonno!” she
called.

Rushing through the house, Bianca flung open
doors until she came to the old man’s bedroom. A sudden foreboding
came over her and she shuddered as she grasped the doorknob in her
hand. Twisting slowly, she pushed the door open.

“Nonno!” she screamed. The old man was
sprawled out on the floor next to his bed, telephone receiver still
in hand. Bianca knelt down next to him, pulling him into her
arms.

“Nonno,” she sobbed, shaking him a little.
“Nonno, please open your eyes. Look at me. Talk to me!” She placed
a hand on his cheek, inhaling sharply. She gave Mason a wild look.
“He’s cold,” she cried. “Get him a blanket.”