Inside the house, he stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Aidan had avoided going upstairs. More specifically, he’d avoided cleaning out his mother’s bedroom. Right after she’d succumbed to her pancreatic cancer, it had been too painful to go through her things and give them away. Really, there wasn’t a rush. It hadn’t mattered until now if they sat and collected dust or got boxed up.
But with the money from the foundation and the charity event coming up, his administrator and first round of tenants would soon be moving in and Molly’s House would become a reality. That would require a good bit of work on Aidan’s part.
Most of the clothes and miscellaneous items would be donated to a shelter or charity. Probably to St. Vincent de Paul. The furniture that was good enough to stay would be used for the new residents along with items for the kitchen. Most of the people who would be moving in wouldn’t have anything but a bag of personal effects for the temporary stay.
Anything that fell in the bucket of a family heirloom would go to his apartment. There wasn’t much, but he knew there were a few things his mother took special care of. Knox would inherit plenty from his mother’s family he was sure, but Aidan wanted him to have some things from his side, too. It would be hard to compete with a couple million or so dollars in a trust fund, but a silver pocket watch that belonged to Knox’s great grandfather might be a special keepsake for him to have one day.
He forced himself up the stairs to the bedroom his parents had shared for his entire life. Everything was just as he remembered it, only covered in a light layer of dust and neglect. The room still held the faint scent of his mother’s favorite rose perfume. Just catching a whiff of it in the department store was enough to bring tears to his eyes. Here was no different.
Looking around, he realized there was a lot to go through, but today, there was only one thing he was concerned about finding—one thing he didn’t dare lose in the shuffle.
He strode across the room to the old oak dresser and the jewelry box standing on top of it. In it, he knew he would find his grandfather’s watch, his mother’s good pearls, a medal he’d earned in Boy Scouts and a couple other little pieces she’d cherished over the years. That included her engagement ring.
Aidan hadn’t wanted to take it from her. He was just as happy to bury her with her jewelry, but she had insisted on it. Her wedding ring was enough, but the engagement ring was special. It had belonged to his great-grandmother on his father’s side and was given to his dad when he wanted to propose. It was family and history and she’d wanted Aidan to give it to his future bride, not to let it rot with her corpse under the earth.
He’d finally relented, bringing it upstairs and putting it in her jewelry box for safekeeping. He’d still held on to the hope that she would recover, come home and want to put her ring back on. That, of course, hadn’t happened. So the ring had sat there with everything else over the last year.
He found the old satin-covered box just as he’d left it. It was the original container, worn and fragile, easily eighty years old. As he opened the tarnished hinge, his gaze fell upon the familiar ring he’d seen on his mother’s finger nearly every day of her life.
Aidan didn’t know much about rings or diamonds, but his mother had told him it was an art deco ballerina-style setting. He supposed that was a fancy way of saying it was a center stone surrounded by smaller diamonds radiating out around it like a sun or a ballerina and her tutu. All he knew was that it was beautiful and his mother had cherished it.
If it hadn’t been an heirloom, he doubted his father would’ve ever been able to afford a ring like this. Aidan probably couldn’t afford to buy one in this style, either. He couldn’t stroll into Tiffany & Co. and drop six figures on an engagement ring like Violet probably expected to receive one day. Like Beau had probably already given her last year. But he could offer her this.
If she’d accept it.
He wasn’t certain how she felt about him. Or even how he felt about her. But he knew he wanted to be around her and Knox every day of the year. Not just Sunday afternoons and alternating holidays. He wanted to wake up to Violet in his bed and he felt like if he didn’t step up now he would miss his chance. Violet was easily one of the most eligible women in Manhattan. Even if Beau was out of the picture, and it didn’t seem like he was ready to go quietly, someone else might come along.
If he wanted Violet, he needed to let her know before she found someone who would fit more easily into her life and her family.
The idea of someone else taking his place made his blood boil. He wasn’t that great with feelings, but he knew that meant something. And if that something meant he needed to ask her to marry him, then he would ask her to marry him and hope for the best.
Holding the ring up to the light, he twirled it between his fingertips to watch the colors dance. It would look beautiful on Violet’s hand.
Taking a deep breath, he put the ring back in its box and headed downstairs. Soon, he told himself. Soon.
Ten
“The turnout for the event is amazing.”
Violet stood at the edge of the ballroom with her assistant, Betsy, as they admired the crowd. She was right. Betsy had worked for the Niarchos Foundation long before Violet was in charge and knew a successful event when she saw one. They’d had one of their highest RSVPs ever for the charity gala and she was pleased to know it was all going to benefit Aidan and Molly’s House. The band was great, the dance floor was filled with people, and more in their finery and masks were showing up every second.
“I do have a question for you, though,” Betsy added.
“What’s that?” Violet eyed the crowd, looking for Aidan, but she hadn’t spotted him yet. She was anxious to see him in his new tuxedo. He looked damn sexy in his snug jeans and tight-fitting T-shirts, but there was something
about a man in a great tux that brought all her James Bond fantasies to life.
“Your parents. I noticed they aren’t on the guest list for tonight.”
She pulled her attention back to her assistant, curious as to her line of questioning. “And?”
“And,” Betsy said, “this is their foundation. We usually invite them to all the events.”
“I think they’re in Romania,” Violet said dismissively. “What’s the point in sending them an invitation when it’s just going to stack up with the rest of their mail? We’re trying to raise money, not spend it unnecessarily.”
Betsy was a woman in her late fifties who rarely took nonsense from anyone. As she looked over her tortoiseshell glasses at Violet, her pointed expression made Violet think that perhaps she’d protested too much. Yes, they typically invited her parents. But typically, her lover and father of her child was not also at the event. There was no way they could look at Aidan and Violet together and not at least suspect that he was Knox’s father. Even with a mask on, his hair would give him away.
That would open up a can of worms best left sealed for now. She hadn’t told them about Aidan yet and she wasn’t ready to. He had enough on his plate at the moment without being subjected to the scrutiny of the lovely Mr. and Mrs. Niarchos. They certainly didn’t need the truth blowing up at a black-tie fundraiser with every important person in Manhattan watching with interest lighting their bloodthirsty gazes.