Chapter 41

Chapter 41
The warring thoughts in her head vanished the moment she stepped into the waiting room.
    “MOMMY!”
    A small blur of denim and brown hair hurtled across the room. He slammed into Aria’s knees, nearly knocking her over.
    “Baby!” Aria laughed, scooping him up.
    “I didn’t know it was you that would pick me up today!”, he said excitedly amid giggles, his legs kicking in Aria’s arms as she struggled to keep him in one place.
    “Wanted to give you a little surpri— stay still or I will tickle you”, she interrupted her words, resorting to a threat instead. He laughed and stopped his kicking.
    Asher wasn't the "perfect quiet baby" he usually pretended to be at home in the presence of Aston. He was hyperactive, and easily amused. That was why she always felt like laughing to death when he was so serious at home.
    “Mommy, look! I made a dragon!” He thrust a crumpled piece of paper at her, forcing her to drop him so she could pick it and see. On second look, it wasn’t crumpled, it was folded, not cleanly, but Aria could definitely see the dragon. Aria’s heart melted. “Oh you’re so talented my darling!”
    He puffed up like he had just been told he was the universe’s greatest spy and grabbed her hand so they could walk back to her car together, with him skipping and swinging.
    She bit the inside of her cheeks. She missed this Asher. She saw him everyday back in France, but ever since they got back home he was always trying to copy Aston.
    “—And then she said we’re too small to worry with fiscal policy—”
    “Fiscal policy?! Why do you know those words?!,” Aria gasped.
    He blinked. “Grandpaw gave me a book.”
    Aria raised her eyebrows and looked off into the distance. Huh. Okay. Her four and a half year old knew what fiscal policy was.
    She didn’t know much about other children but she was somewhat certain that this couldn’t be a uniform phenomenon.
    Was he even old enough to have morals yet? Why was Arthur so determined to make sure Asher was modeled exactly after him, and how did Asher’s baby brain even carry the weight of the book Arthur had given him?!
    Aria let out a long, weary sigh. "We’re going to have a long talk about the books your grandfather gives you, Asher. "
    "But Mommy, knowledge is power," Asher chirped, sounding terrifyingly like a miniature version of the man that had raised her.
    They reached the car. Aria opened the back door, and Asher scrambled inside with the energy of a puppy. Aria followed, sliding into the seat next to him.
    The interior was silent. Aston didn't turn around, but his presence was a heavy, cooling weight against the humid afternoon air.
    Asher, who had been chattering about dragons and economics and everything he could think of since the waiting room, suddenly went rigid. He looked at the back of the driver’s head, then at Aria, then back at the driver.
    He grew silent and narrowed his eyes, glaring at Aria with betrayal written all over his face. She resisted the urge to pull his adorable cheeks lest he went off on her. He already looked like he was about to give her a stern lecture.
    What was it? What had she done?
   The car was silent. Aston didn’t breathe a word, Asher didn’t breathe a word, and Aria didn’t know if she was allowed to breathe a word.
   Thankfully her son broke the silence.
   “Why didn’t you tell me the Boss was here?” Asher hissed, his voice dropping three octaves. He pointedly shoved the paper dragon under his thigh, hiding from the man in the front seat.
   Aria’s mouth fell open. “The Boss? Asher, he’s… da…he— he’s Aston.”
   “He is the patriarch of the Beaumont line, Mommy. Grandpaw said proper behavior is important,” Asher whispered back, sitting up so straight his spine looked like a ruler.
   In the rearview mirror, Aria saw Aston’s eyes crinkle. He wasn't laughing, but the ice had definitely thawed.
   She narrowed her own eyes. She had delayed her grandfather’s petty revenge too much. He was bothering her son. She wouldn’t stand for it anymore.
   It was time she visited Arthur with her little friend.
   “Your great grandfather isn’t here. You can afford to slouch, soldier.”
   Aria didn’t expect Aston to participate in the conversation, and she certainly didn’t expect him to play along.
   “Really?”, Asher asked, suspicion written all over his face. Aston raised his left hand from the wheel and rotated his wrist with his index finger pointing around. 
   “Do you see him anywhere here?”
   “Grandpaw has eyes everywhere, that’s why he’s great,” Asher said seriously.
   Aston’s eyes left the road for the first time, and he quickly glanced at Asher, amusement on his features, before sending his eyes back to the road.
   He was such a careful driver. 
   Completely unlike Aria. Perhaps her days of racing long gong had influenced her normal driving habits, but every single time she offered to drive Linda, the woman just sneered and snatched the keys from her.
   “Arthur is your GREAT grandfather, only because he’s your mother’s grandfather.”
   “Oh…” Asher looked like he just discovered brand new information. Was that why he always called him grandpaw? Her son knew what fiscal policy was in theory but had simply assumed they all just called Arthur great.
   He was such a wonderful child.
   Her precious little boy.
   By the time the villa came into view, Asher was no longer ramrod straight, nor was he paying any attention to Aria. No.
   He and Aston were discussing missions. Aria couldn’t fathom it. Aston Beaumont? The monster in a suit? The scary psychopath that made her heart race in more than one way, in absolute fear? He was playing along with her son.
   Her phone dinged.
   She took a break from watching the two to check it, and immediately regretted waking up that day.
   “Scandalous heiress with the Piccorin prince?!”
   What the fuck had Devan done? It hadn’t even been a day!