Seduced by the Italian Billionaire (6 page)

            Benito cocked an eyebrow at me, his brown eyes twinkling, and spoke in a low voice. "See? She loves you."

            A little current of joy rippled through my body.

            Out in the kitchen, Christina and I chopped vegetables for a salad and brushed warm bread with olive oil while Elza finished seasoning the main course, thick ribbons of handmade pasta tossed with a rich meat sauce. Our conversation was light and friendly; I complimented Elza on her beautiful home, and both she and Christina remarked how pretty my new dress was.

            "I can understand why my son has fallen in love with you. You look as pretty as a flower in that lovely pale pink."

            When the dinner preparations were finished and Christina and I had returned to the table, Elza served the main course, and everyone tucked in. After a few delicious bites, I resolved I was going to have to have her teach me how to make homemade pasta like hers.

            While occasionally twirling a fork around one of his big, bouncy, dark curls, to his mother's extreme irritation, Marco told us all numerous funny stories about the adventures of his pet turtle while we ate. Alonzo and Elza both asked me different questions about my job and seemed pleased with the answers I gave. Alonzo mentioned reading an article the previous year about how conditions in many Bronx schools had deteriorated to the point of many of them not being able to furnish basic supplies for students.

            "Have conditions improved at all?"

            I took a sip of sparkling wine, shrugging. "Unfortunately, not really. And many of the students' families aren't financially able to provide supplies for the students themselves. Last year, I had a class where not a single student had the binders and folders needed to organize their assignments. None of them even had notebooks for paper to write on. It was very sad."

            Alonzo drew his bushy gray brows together. "So how did the children get by? How were they able to learn?"

            "Well -- "  I took another sip of wine, flushing slightly. "I ended up buying all the supplies for the kids myself. I just couldn't stand to see any child's learning affected because of the school's and their families' finances."

            "Well, that was very generous of you. Very generous."

            Elza nodded. "A woman with a big heart. I like that."

            Benito, sitting next to me, squeezed my hand under the table.

            After we'd all enjoyed tiramisu and coffee for dessert, Christina and Enzo left to get little Marco home to bed. Not long after, Benito said that we should be heading home as well.

            I turned to him and spoke in a low voice. "Maybe after I help your mother with the clean-up, though."

            She heard me and waved a hand dismissively. "Nonsense. I don't mind doing the tidying myself at all, and I want you two young lovebirds to go enjoy the rest of your evening."

            She wrapped me in a hug before Benito and I left. "It was wonderful to meet you, my dear. I'm overjoyed that my son has found such a lovely woman."

            I hugged her back. "Thank you, Elza, and thank you for your hospitality. Thank you for making me feel so welcome."

            "You are always welcome."

            Benito gave me a smiley little wink from behind his mother's back.

            An hour or so later, he pulled me close and began kissing me the moment after I'd shut my apartment door.

            I kissed him back, giggling a little. "I'm so happy right now I could fly."

            He chuckled, picking me up in his strong arms and carrying me into my bedroom. "I have to admit, I'm feeling very much the same. And in fact, right now, I think I could fly us both to the moon and back."

            He set me on my bed and peeled off his thin, black cashmere sweater, revealing his well-defined chest, dark hair lightly covering the broad expanse. After running my hands over it, I pulled him on top of me, and we began kissing again, hungrily, our tongues dancing, flicking,  teasing.

            Before long, after every stitch of our clothing lay in a heap on the floor, I rolled Benito onto his back, straddling him but not taking him inside me yet, making him groan.

            "Felicia. Felicia, my beauty, my love. My queen."

            He reached up and began stroking my hardened nipples, and I choked back a moan, his name on my lips.

            "I love you. I love you and I always will."

            Arching my back, I slid my slick womanhood along the length of his rock-hard shaft, my breath coming in gasps. With a low growl, he took my hips and positioned me to take him inside of me. We cried out in unison on the slide in. And soon, our voices rose even louder while I rocked myself against his hard thickness, sliding him in and out of me, until we both reached a mind-shattering completion.

            Afterward, Benito took me in his arms, murmuring words of love in my ear.

            My second-to-last thought before drifting off to sleep was how my relationship with him just could not possibly become any more perfect. My last thought was wondering how long that perfection could last before something happened to throw a wrench in it.

Chapter7

The next morning, while we snuggled in bed, I asked Benito if things going really well ever made him nervous.

            He caressed my arm, his thick dark hair in a tousled semi-Mohawk from the night's sleep. "What do you mean?"

            "Well, I guess I just mean like, when something is going so well, when something is going so perfectly, like our relationship, and you're completely happy, just...the happiest you've ever been, does it ever just make you feel like...just like you have this low-level undercurrent of nerves running through you?"

            "Are you saying that how well our relationship is going is making
you
nervous?"

            I sighed. "If I'm being completely honest, kind of. It's just -- things could not possibly be any better right now. We're very much in love, your parents seem to have completely accepted me -- I just feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like, what's gonna happen to mess everything up?"

            Benito brushed my lips with a kiss. "Nothing."

            "You don't know that for sure, though. And I'm just getting this feeling in my gut that something's about to happen. It's just making me nervous that I don't know what it is."

            Benito brushed my mouth with another kiss, his brown eyes amber in a shaft of sunlight slanting in through the window. "I think there might be a reason for why you feel this way."

            "What is it?"

            He caressed the side of my face, his fingers warm and slow. "I think you haven't always had it easy in life -- and actually, I
know
that, just based on things you've told me. And I think when a person hasn't always had it easy -- when they're used to having rough stuff come their way with regularity -- it makes them feel like that’s inevitable. That more bad things are bound to happen, because they always have in the past. So when things are good, and when you're happy, you can't let yourself enjoy it completely because you're still on guard. Still ready to fight the adversity like you always have. Does this make any sense?"

            I nodded, my head in the crook of Benito's arm. "A lot."

            "It's understandable that all this would give you a sense of nervousness. Very understandable."

            I thought back on other times in my life when I'd been really happy, like when I'd graduated college and accepted my first teaching job, realizing I'd been nervous about something bad happening then, too.

            "I think I've been this way my whole life."

            "I don't blame you. But I want you to know that you don't have to feel that way anymore. You don't have to feel nervous about anything. I'm here to help you deal with anything that might happen down the road in life, and together, we can get through it. But you know --" He paused, smiling. "Sometimes people just get to a point in their lives where they enter a long stretch of happiness. Nothing bad happens; they just get their happily-ever-after. And it's entirely possible that that might be happening right now for us. So try not to be nervous. Try not to let that feeling spoil the good. Just enjoy it. Because you absolutely deserve it."

            I smiled, my heart lifting, and gave Benito a long, lingering kiss. "You always know just what to say to make me feel better."

            He soon got in the shower, and I snuggled in bed a while longer, telling myself that he was right, that sometimes life could just be happy, and perfect, and it didn't mean that something bad was going to happen. I resolved to try to shake my feeling of nervousness and just accept all the happiness in my life with open arms.

            After making me breakfast, Benito left to meet up with a business associate for coffee. I showered and dressed and had just started my regular Sunday cleaning of the apartment when I heard a knock at the door. Puzzled, I set a spray bottle of glass cleaner down and turned in the direction of the door. I wasn't expecting anyone and wondered if the knock had actually been on the neighbor's door. But then a knock sounded again, louder this time, and definitely on my door.

            I crept over to the door and looked through the peephole, stunned to see Elza standing on the other side. Curiously, she stood staring straight ahead, her expression somehow not as warm as it had been the night before. And in fact, something about her expression made it seem as if she were angry.

            More than a little mystified about her expression and the reason for her visit, I turned the lock and flung open the door. "Elza! It's nice to see you again. Sorry I'm in my ratty cleaning clothes; I wasn't expecting anyone."

            "May I come in?"

            The frosty tone in her voice made a chill dance along my spine.

            "Yes, of course. Please come in."

            She stepped into the living room and surveyed her surroundings, wrinkling her nose a slight fraction. "I know my son is not here, because I watched him leave. And in case you're wondering, I got your address from the phone book."

            Her tone still dripped with ice water.

            Thoroughly baffled, I attempted a smile, trying to warm her up. "Oh, that's fine. I'm glad you did. I'm glad you stopped by."

            Elza didn't respond, turning her gaze to two tan couch pillows on the floor.

            I grabbed the pillows and placed them back in their spots. "I'm so sorry. Cleaning day. Everything's in a bit of a mess by the end of the week."

            She still didn't respond, still surveying the living room, her nose still wrinkling, and I realized she was wearing a light jacket.

            "Can I take your jacket and hang it up for you?"

            She finally met my eyes, her own eyes dark and narrowed. "That won't be necessary. I won't be staying long."

            My heart began to pound.

            Completely rattled and confused by her coldness, I began stammering. "Can I make you some coffee or tea? And would you like something to eat? I have some homemade cranberry scones in the freezer; they'd just take a few minutes to thaw. Or if you'd like, I also have some apple cinnamon muffins. Or would you like me to make you a full brunch? It'd really be no problem. I could make you some eggs, and Canadian bacon, and some-"

            "Do you have a table on which to conduct business?"

            The ice in her voice made my cheeks sting with heat, as if I'd literally been slapped in the face. Not even comprehending her question, it took me a moment to even respond.

            "Business? What do you  --"

            "Please show me to your table."

            My heart hammering, I led her to the kitchen and seated her at the table. Cheery sunshine streamed in through the yellow-curtained window, making a mockery of what was happening.

            "Are you sure you wouldn't like something to eat? Or maybe just a cup of coffee? A cup of coffee and a scone. How about that?"

            She ignored me, taking a checkbook and pen out of her purse, her eyes darkening.

            I wiped my suddenly sweaty palms on my pants, wracking my brain for an explanation of what she could possibly be doing. "Elza? I don't mean to be rude, but you're acting very strange. Are you feeling all right? Should I call Alonzo? Or Benito?"

            She looked up at me, tucking a strand of gray hair that had fallen out of her bun behind one ear, her eyes so dark they almost seemed black. And when she spoke, her words came out in a hiss.

            "You may address me as Mrs. Fabriccio now."

            Tears sprang to my eyes.

            "Elza, why are you acting like this? Why are you  -- "

            "Mrs. -- Fabriccio."

            I wiped a tear away. "Okay,  but  -- I just don't understand why you're acting like this. Please just tell me what's wrong. If I did or said anything to offend you last night, I'm really sorry. Please just tell me what I did. Was it that I didn't ask if I should take my shoes off at the door? I saw later on that Christina had hers off and I felt stupid that I didn't ask. Was that it? Please just tell me."

            Ignoring me, she began filling out the check, writing my name on it.

            I sniffled, completely uncomprehending. "Was it that I didn't finish all my tiramisu, even though Alonzo had made some joke earlier about how you always like everyone to clean their plates? I'm really sorry. It was absolutely delicious, but I was just so stuffed. Was that it? Please believe that I never meant to offend you."

            She glanced up at me. "Will fifty thousand cover it?"

            I stared at her, willing my brain to make sense of what she'd just said. "Will fifty thousand cover -- cover what?"

            She didn't answer and finished filling out the check for fifty thousand, then thrust it in my direction. "Take this and never speak to my son again."

            I know my mouth hung open for at least two full seconds before I was able to close it.

            "You're -- you're paying me off to never see Benito again? You're actually -- you're paying me off?"

            Elza held the  check  out, waving it. "Take it. I'm sure a person of your limited means can put this money to good use."

            I wiped my eyes, my confusion, sadness, and shock giving way to anger. "Is this some sort of a -- a sick joke?"

            "Not at all. Take this check and never speak to my son again."

            I bit back a laugh. "You're crazy. You're absolutely crazy. I love your son,
Mrs. Fabriccio
. I'm going to be with him. And fifty thousand dollars is not going to change that."

            She shrugged, ripped up the check, and began writing a new one. "Perhaps this will change your mind."

            I folded my arms across my chest. "Nothing will change my mind."

            "Well -- perhaps a hundred thousand dollars will. Perhaps, after I leave, when the realization fully sinks into your mind that this amount is nearly three times your yearly salary."

            "Here's a realization for
you
. You're sick. Do you realize that? This isn't a mother's love; this is sick."

            "No, this is love so deep you could not possibly understand."

            "You're twisted. You're twisted on a level I can hardly even wrap my mind around."

            She began signing her name on the check, shrugging. "This money will help you forget."

            "I want you out of my house, Mrs. Fabriccio. Right this second."

            She finished writing the check, set it in a decorative dish on the table, and stood. "You will never fit in with my family. You will never be accepted; you will never be welcome. So take this check and cash it. Enjoy your windfall. And do not ever contact my son again."

            She began striding back out to the living room, and I followed her.

            "Before you go, I just have one question for you, and I think I deserve an answer. How could you act so nice to me last night, when the whole time, you obviously hated me? How could you welcome me into your home and say all those nice things to me? How could you be so -- fake?"

            Elza stopped at the door, turned to face me, and lifted the corners of her mouth, her dark eyes gleaming. "I'm able to do what I must in order to not hurt my son's feelings. But at the end of the day, I'll do what I will to protect his best interests."

            And with that, she breezed out the door, slamming it behind her.

            I sank into the couch, my head in my hands. "Complete psychopath. Evil."

            Soon my rapid breathing and galloping pulse returned to semi-normal, and I went out to the kitchen to examine the check and see if she'd written anything hateful in the memo. She hadn't, and I snorted, thinking how she probably would have if  she’d had  the time. I set the check back in the decorative dish made in art class and given to me. A student so poor I'd had to buy a graphing calculator for her, just to she could participate in an advanced algebra class.        

            A sudden realization hit me, and I gasped, a hand flying to my mouth. I knew how much good a hundred grand could do for the kids at my school.