Free The Lesson by Bella D'Amato Page A

in
her ear. “Put your game face on, baby, shit’s about to get
real.”
     
     
     

CHAPTER ELEVEN
     
     
    Mason straightened as Bianca studied the
couple. She knew immediately these were Mason’s parents. The man
had the same wide jaw and high cheekbones, similar build, although
Mason stood a few inches taller, and the slender, regal woman
watched them with the same caramel eyes. The woman seemed to float
next to the man who strode toward them with purpose and a tumbler
of amber liquid in one hand.
    “Mason, darling,” his mother said as she
took his hand and kissed the air next to his cheek, careful not to
smudge her perfect makeup or wrinkle her dazzling silver sheath of
a gown. “I’m so glad you came out tonight. You ought to come by
more often.”
    “I would,” he replied as he carefully hugged
his mother. “But then it wouldn’t be such a pleasant surprise when
I do come to visit.” He turned to his father and held out his hand.
“Besides, I know better than to miss father’s yearly gala.”
    “Of course you do,” the older man commented
with a lift of his eyebrow. “One must keep up appearances. That
said, I think you’ve misplaced your manners as you have yet to
introduce us to your lovely companion.”
    Mason glanced at Bianca and smiled as he
placed a hand at the small of her back, urging her forward a step.
“Mother, Father, this Bianca Russo. Bianca, I’m happy to introduce
you to my parents, Vivian and Mason Freeman the First.”
    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