Page 147 of Pretender

Aiden nods and looks down at his hands, his fingers intertwined between his knees. “My dad’s name was Giorgio Aurato. He was apparently the sole heir to the Aurato fortune and the Casa Aurato conglomerate, and he lived his life as such.” He clears his throat. “I found a bundle of letters from his family wrapped in a scarf in a box of my dad’s old stuff. And I learned that he was a … hmm … a notorious player back in Florence. I gather that the family wanted him to settle down and stop bringing shame on their name, so they made his inheritance dependent on him marrying and producing an heir.”

I huff.

“Yes, it’s archaic but it happens. So these letters I found, one of them was them ranting to him how he’d torn the two families apart, they’d arranged this marriage and he ran away. Because he met Mum on his bachelor trip before the wedding.”

“He fell in love with her.”

Aiden sighs. “That’s what he always told me, so I’ve clung to that part. I need to believe that the way he loved my mum was genuine. That it was real.” Aiden lets out a huff-laugh. “He told me how he’d seen her, she was wearing vibrant clashing colours, breaking all the rules, but looking fabulous. Very stylish, he said. When he’d asked her about it, he fell for her attitude. She said she wears what makes her happy, and she teased him for being square and traditional. He said that with her feisty nature, and that laugh of hers, he knew she was the one for him and he’d never felt that way about anyone.”

“That’s beautiful.”

“Yeah…” Aiden pauses and clears his throat. I wait, as he said to do.

“Do you want something to drink?” I ask, when he’s quiet for longer than I’m comfortable with. “Will made a little mini-bar for me so I wouldn’t have to go through the whole house for a treat.”

“Okay, yes, please, that’d be good.”

I stand up and Aiden’s hand moves out as I pass, his fingers grazing my knee, leaving a trail of heat on my skin. I choose the small bottle with something amber in it. Cognac. Sure, that’ll do.

It’s just enough for two neat drinks. To take the edge off this heavy conversation.

“Here,” I say, and allow my fingers to touch his as he grabs it from me. His breath hitches and he tilts his face up towards me. We’re frozen like that for a moment, both hands on the same glass.

“Thank you,” he says.

I shake my head and blink, and he clears his throat, taking the glass as I release it. I sit back down and cradle the drink in my hands, letting it be my focal point for a moment.

“So Dad met Mum…” Aiden continues. “He took her back to Florence and told his parents he wanted to marry her instead. This part Mum told me, actually. The family didn’t accept her. A poor fisherman’s daughter from the south of Italy, marrying into a centuries-old North Italian aristocrat family? Unheard of. And they said she was too dark, so there’s some good-old-fashioned in-country racism for you.”

Aiden exhales and straightens up. “Dad took a bunch of cash from the family and they ran away to England. Apparently he used the travelling name the Aurato family used to avoid attention. Aurellan.”

“Oh.”

He shrugs. “It’s his middle name, and he got away with it. Gave it to me on my birth certificate, so it’s my legal surname. Anyway, getting to the crux of it here… Dad never married Mum.”

“Hmm, Will said something about it, but I didn’t want to ask you until you brought it up yourself.”

Our eyes lock and Aiden blinks.

“Oh. Thank you.” He looks down again. “I didn’t know anything growing up. Mum used his name, but I guess it’s not really hers, and I never realised. She has her reasons for not sharing that with me, I guess. As far as I understand, she accepted the relationship as it was.”

“I’m sure she trusted his love.”

Aiden shrugs, staring at his hands.

“I learned from the letters that he stayed in touch with his family. They kept trying to get him to come back, and from what I understand he chose not to marry Mum because it kept the opportunity for him returning to Florence open. It seems he wanted me to legally be their grandson, but they said if he chooses her, it’s all over. The door would firmly shut if he married the Sicilian woman who tore the family apart, as one of the letters stated.”

“The letters didn’t share his view, though, did they?”

“No. That’s the hard part. I will simply never know how he felt. Except… They want to see me now. I could find out from them.”

I gasp, putting the pieces together. “The delivery guy? Your comment to him.”

Aiden sighs and takes a sip of his cognac.

“Yeah. Seems the lady at the shop told the family about me, she had my name and address, so they got the message to me directly. Come to Florence, reunite with the family.” He shakes his head. “I’m not ready for that.”

“That’s okay, sorry I interrupted you. You were telling me about your mum and dad.” I put the glass to my lips, breathing in the strong alcoholic fumes before taking a sip, letting the drink burn through my mouth.