In Love With My Bully

 "Nita has always been a heavy eater," my mother began, trying to make excuses for the amount of food I was eating. "She likes to make her own food, carefully and perfectly. So, when she becomes your daughter-in-law, you'll need patience because her cooking takes hours."

I paused mid-bite of my food, glancing at her with raised eyebrows. She responded with a scowl. I didn't care anyway, food was my comfort and right now I seriously needed it.

Mrs. Numero chuckled, "I'm surprised you have such a perfect figure, dear. How do you manage to stay in shape?"

"Fast metabolism I guess," I replied, reaching for my glass of water. As I drank, my father's gaze lingered on me. Guilt written all over it. I gave him a thin smile, trying to reassure him silently.

Mr. Numero, who was seated at the head of the table, cleared his throat and asked "When did you say Junior would be arriving?"

"For the fiftieth time, he said an hour ago," his wife responded.

"It's fine," my mother chimed in. "We're not in a hurry. Besides, Junior is taking over the company, isn't he? He must be busy." Trust my mum to make excuses for someone who clearly didn't deserve it.

Busy? Sure. Busy being late. I rolled my eyes so hard they almost fell out of my head. They might not be in a hurry, but I was. We had been waiting – what – two hours now.

Mrs. Numero, however, seemed to be on a roll. "Don't make excuses for him, Becky. He's always been that way. Never listens to me, does whatever he wants. Since his sister passed, he's been utterly impossible!" Her voice wobbled.

"Sweetie," Mr. Numero said, gently patting her hand, "perhaps these aren't things Nita needs to hear right now."

"Oh, pish posh!" she exclaimed. "She's practically family now! She should know what she's getting into. Besides, you're the one who spoiled him, Richard. You let him get away with everything! Taking him to work instead of letting me raise him properly. That's how children lose their values! Raised by secretaries and accountants…"

As she launched into her speech, my mother leaned toward me. "Remind me to use this next time on your father," she whispered.

Mr. Numero, desperate to restore order, grabbed his phone. His voice turned into a low growl as he barked into the receiver, "Junior, you have fifteen minutes to show up, or I swear I'll make your life a living nightmare. And trust me, I'm very motivated."

Mrs. Numero leaned toward me. "Numero wife rule number one," she whispered with a wink, "a little drama goes a long way."

I raised an eyebrow. "Good to know."

She nodded. "If you can cry on cue, you're already halfway there."

Just as I was wondering how quickly I could escape through the nearest window, the butler entered. "Mr. Richard Junior has arrived."

About time. If lateness were an Olympic sport, he'd have a gold medal.

Mrs. Numero sprang into action, fluffing my hair. Before I could protest, she whipped out a lipstick from her purse and attacked my lips with it.

"There, now you're perfect!" she announced, beaming.

"Save me," I mouthed to my dad, who, for once, seemed to be enjoying himself. Nowadays, he rarely smiled. Maybe because his company was going bankrupt or because he was giving his daughter out to save it like some trade by barter situation.

"Oh, darling," Mrs. Numero said, cupping my face in her hands, "I hope he likes you."

I hope not, I thought, but managed a weak smile.

The sound of confident footsteps approached, His cologne reached me before he did—expensive and appealing. I took a deep breath, preparing myself to face the man who I was being prepared to spend the rest of my life with.

"Good evening, everyone," came his smooth, authoritative voice. "Apologies for my tardiness, I was busy tying up loose ends at work. There was no need to threaten my balls."

Mrs. Numero let out a small groan in exasperation, covering her face with her hand. It was clear that her son seemed to love embarrassing her.

Junior stepped to my left, heading straight to greet my mother with a bow. "Mrs. Williams, you're as radiant as ever. Are you sure I'm marrying the right woman?"

"Oh, aren't you charming," my mother gushed. "You have grown up well. Last time I saw you, you were what – five?"

"Its been too long, I am sure we will be spending more time together these days with the current arrangement underway."

He turned to my father. "Mr. Williams, I've heard great things about Wita. I'm sure we'll work wonderfully together."

Finally, he turned to me. My heart pounded loud enough for me to hear. I pushed back my chair and stood, determined to stay composed.

"You must be the lovely Nita," he said, extending his hand.

"Actually, it's Benita," I corrected, shaking his hand firmly. Then I looked up at him—and froze. My stomach did a backflip. It cant be!

It was him. The face I thought I'd never see again. Memories of our last encounter flooded my mind, and the room seemed to spin.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his smile fading slightly.

"I…" The world went black.

When I came to, I was lying on the couch. My mother was fussing over me, and Junior stood nearby, looking confused.

"Did she faint because of me?" he asked, half-joking.

"No," I muttered weakly. "I fainted because of your cologne. It's too strong."

His smirk returned. "Noted. We aren't married yet and she is already taking things away from me."

Mrs. Numero leaned over me, her face a mix of concern and excitement. "Oh, darling, if this is how you react to meeting him, we'd better stock up on smelling salts."

I groaned, covering my face with the nearest pillow. My life was officially a sitcom, and I was the punchline. The man I am to marry to save my family from ruin is the man that scarred me for life. Isn't that just perfect!!!