She ignores my use of her name, not the least bit bothered by it. I usually call her Mom, but for the longest time, she was Em to me and M&M to my dad. He still gives her that nickname, which makes me want to puke. The flirting with those two never ceases to end. Gross!
“Your biological mother, Ashleigh, had a sibling who was kidnapped before Ashleigh was born. They never found him.”
My eyes widen. “No way. Not even Eagle Tactical could find him?”
“Eagle Tactical wasn’t around when he was taken, sweetheart.”
Right. Silly me. “Okay, so Antonio Moretti is my … uncle?” I guess, having already put the pieces together. I’m super grossed out by the news, mostly because it puts an instant end to any thought of Liam and me together.
Bummer.
“Yes, and no. Ashleigh had run one of those ancestry DNA tests. She wanted to find out if her brother was still alive. The results came back that she had a family member named Antonio Moretti.”
“Where’s the yes and no part? That sounds like a solid yes to me.” I fold my arms across my chest. “My Uncle Antonio is what, that Italian mafia?” I’m joking, only because she mentioned the mafia earlier, but he’s not mafia.
I mean, does the mafia even still exist today?
“Antonio Moretti is involved in organized crime,” Mom says, with a straight face, “but there is more than one Antonio Moretti in New York City. The background check let me narrow it down by date of birth, not just year. Which means there are twenty men named Antonio Moretti in New York City, not to mention New Jersey and other states where your biological uncle may have been relocated as a child or moved to as an adult.”
I stare at Mom blankly.
What the hell is she getting at?
“Your uncle isn’t involved in the Italian mafia. He was kidnapped as a child, rehomed, and currently lives in Connecticut.”
I’m staring at her, dumbfounded.
“I’m not related to the Antonio Moretti whose son I went to school with?”
Mom smiles. “You remember Liam and Sophia’s dad? We invited them over for dinner once, interesting night.”
That had been the only time I recall meeting his father. His mom had brought Sophia over to the ice rink for us to go skating after that, the two of us becoming fairly close.
I don’t remember much from that night. I was young and hated Liam. I punched him in first grade after he harassed me tirelessly. The teacher wouldn’t put an end to it, so I did.
“So, I’m not related to that pompous asshole?”
Mom’s gaze tightens. “Language, Bristol. But no, you are not related to any of them. Does that make you feel better?” she asks, perhaps sensing my discomfort. Of course, she doesn’t know why.
“Yes.”
Our food gets brought to the table, and I hungrily enjoy the chips, dipping that into the stew.
“So, do you promise no more snooping at the office?”
“I wasn’t snooping!”
Okay, maybe I was, but it was, after all, my bio mom’s file. What was I supposed to do, ignore it? Fat chance in hell.
Work is boring as hell, but Mom isn’t in the office the rest of the afternoon.
I jam the copier, making sure to really screw it up. Just as it goes to copy, I force-feed it several extra sheets, and it makes a ton of obnoxious sounds, like it’s being eaten alive by wolves.
“Ariella!” I grumble and hope my trick works.
“Oh, shit. Not again.” She jumps up from her desk, her heels clicking.
“I need to use the washroom. Can you try to fix this monstrosity?” I brush past her, toward the washroom and then sneak through a hallway, back to her desk.