Hexed (Never After #6)

9. Enzo

NINE

ENZO

Ten minutes later, I’m the less-than-enthusiastic owner of a T-shirt that says “Mariner of the Seas,” with a sailboat against a rainbow backdrop.

“It’s rude you’re not wearing your gift.” Venesa points at the shirt, which she picked out, that I now have tucked under my arm. “Do you not like it?”

I look at her, amused. “Is it a gift if I paid?”

She lifts her shoulders and smiles. “It’s the thought that counts. Besides, did you know your last name in Latin means ‘of the sea’? It’s basically your namesake on a shirt.”

My footsteps stutter, and I eyeball her because I’m still not sure whether I can trust her or not. For all I know, her specialty could be to make people feel comfortable before she fucks them over. “And what do you know about my namesake ?”

Her mouth pops open to answer, and honestly, despite the fact I’m having trouble gauging her level of sincerity, I’m enjoying the back and forth, but before she can say anything, her stomach growls so loudly, I wonder if she’s eaten at all.

“You’re hungry.”

“I was ordered to come straight here and convince you to invest in the area. I didn’t really have time to eat.”

Humming, I move my hand until I’m just hovering around the small of her back to steer her.

It’s harder than I thought it would be to not touch her when I’m this close—my fingers centimeters away from knowing what she feels like—but I resist, because I’m engaged , and even worse, to her cousin. One wrong step and Venesa could run to her uncle, bringing the whole house of cards down.

Trent made a deal with my father, and if word gets back to Pops… Unease churns deep in my gut because I’m not sure what my pops would do.

Besides, I didn’t get to where I am by giving in to things just because I want them.

This could be a tactic. Most likely is.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

I glance down at her while I move us toward the front of a restaurant on the water called the Sharkbait. “Feeding you.”

She huffs out a small laugh and takes a step away, turning around until she’s facing me, her back toward the black double doors. “You really don’t need to do that. I’m fine.”

“I didn’t ask if you were fine. In fact…” I move closer to her. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion at all.”

“That’s true, actually.” She crosses her arms. “Pretty rude of you to not take my feelings into consideration, then.”

My lips purse. “Do you always do this? Disagree with anything someone says? It’s pretty fucking annoying, I’ll be honest.”

I take another step, and she moves until she’s pressed to the glass of the entrance like she can’t wait to get away from me. Her lashes flutter as my arm brushes against her exposed shoulder, my palm flattening on the door behind her.

She smells like salt water and a hint of cherry, and I…think I like it?

“Don’t stand so close,” she breathes out.

I bend my head farther just so I can take another hit of her. “Tell me what to do again.”

Goose bumps sprout down her neck and disappear beneath her shirt, and satisfaction spirals through me at the sight.

She can pretend I don’t affect her, but the proof is right there on her pretty skin. I’m not sure why that makes it better, knowing this attraction isn’t one-sided. Maybe because it makes me feel less like a piece of shit for having a wandering eye when clearly this thing between us goes both ways.

It’s not just me.

I push on the door and hold it open, inclining my head, gesturing for her to walk inside.

I’m half-convinced she’ll argue with me again, and the thought of it makes blood pulse through my veins, a hit of anticipation lighting me up. I wish she would. It’s…something, to have someone in my company who doesn’t seem afraid of me and isn’t trying to constantly kiss my ass. Exhilarating, even.

But she doesn’t argue with this, at least. She just lifts her chin as she saunters through the front door and inside the restaurant.

When we walk in, everyone turns to look at her, but I don’t think she even realizes it.

We’re seated quickly, and when the hostess disappears, Venesa laughs, bringing the menu up to hide her face.

I reach across the small circular table and push it back down so I can see her. “What’s so funny?”

She grins, tilting her head toward the hostess. “Just seeing the Enzo Marino effect in action, I guess.”

“The Enzo Marino effect?”

“Yeah, you know…you’re all big and bad and manly . It… affects people.” Her elbows lean on the table when she speaks, her hand waving in my direction, and it pushes her cleavage until it’s right there in my face, begging me to glance down and soak in every inch of her while I can.

But I’m not an amateur, so I resist the temptation.

My grin widens, and I rest my chin on my hand as I watch her. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

The server comes by, and Venesa orders a bowl of she-crab soup while I pick a shrimp po’boy with two Cokes, and neither of us really says much else until the food arrives.

I expect it to be awkward, the way it usually is with people you hardly know, but it feels like there’s a level of camaraderie between us already, and I lean into the feeling.

It should make me want to run the other way.

Comfort with someone is a red flag, in my experience, especially with someone I’ve only just met. I can’t afford to let my guard down in a regular situation, let alone with a woman who’s about to be family.

“You surprise me,” she blurts suddenly when we’re almost done with our meals. “I thought you’d have your minions here following your every move.”

The corner of my lip curls up, amusement filling my chest. “My minions ?”

“Yeah. You know.” She waves her hand through the air again. I notice she does that a lot, talks with her hands. The gestures are big and swooping, and if she’s really trying to get her point across, they’re even more pronounced.

“Your guys or whatever,” she continues. “Uncle T won’t go anywhere without his. He never used to let Aunt Ella or Aria out of their sight either.”

I frown. “Yet you show up unaccompanied and on a city bus.”

She smirks, but not before a hint of sadness flashes across her face, one I unfortunately recognize easily because I see it in my mirrors.

“I can take care of myself,” she says.

“Hmm.” I take a sip of my drink.

“What’s that mean?” she asks, her eyes flitting around the room before landing back on mine. “Listen, you don’t get to judge me, okay?”

I smile at her. “Are you always so defensive?”

“I…” She tilts her head. “I’m not defensive. I’m just…”

My brows lift as I wait for her to come up with a word.

“Overcompensating?” I throw in, remembering her jab at me from last night.

She scoffs, gesturing to her body. “Please, what do I need to overcompensate for? I’m very generous with my gifts.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “Generous with your modesty too.”

A small grin touches her lips, those dimples making the apples of her cheeks even more pronounced.

My heart jumps.

“So how did you and Aria meet anyway?” Her eyes aren’t on me; they’re on the spoon she’s slowly pushing through her half-eaten bowl of soup.

The reminder of Aria is like a wet blanket on chilled skin, dousing the moment in reality.

Doesn’t she already know ?

I can’t imagine she doesn’t. Everyone knows how Aria and I met because it was all over the news. New York’s prince saved by a Southern shipping princess. The closest thing to American royalty, they call us.

The whole thing gives me a fucking headache.

I shouldn’t want to be in the spotlight; it makes it that much harder to do the things necessary for the family. But of course, Pops didn’t see it that way, so I ignored how uncomfortable it made me feel. And eventually, things you ignore grow roots too strong, their weeds all but impossible to dig out.

I’ve already accepted that this boredom—this monotony—is going to be the rest of my life.

“You don’t know?” I test her.

She shrugs. “So what if I do? Maybe I want to hear about it from you.”

“It’s not an interesting story.” I wipe my mouth with the cloth napkin on my lap and then place it on the red-and-white-checkered tablecloth.

“So make it interesting,” she replies.

I stare at her, rubbing my chin. “She was a singer in one of my clubs.”

Venesa huffs out an amused laugh.

“What?” I prod, trying to bite back the smirk.

“It’s just kind of cliché, don’t you think?”

I lean back, spreading my legs out wide until my calf brushes against hers. A shock runs through my body at the unintentional touch, but neither of us moves away.

“Us sitting here, eating overpriced seafood and buying thirty-dollar souvenirs is a bit cliché, but it doesn’t make it any less enjoyable…or true,” I retort.

“Mm-hmm. So you fell in love with her voice and that was that?” She snaps her fingers.

I pop a fry in my mouth. “Something like that.”

She rolls her eyes and chuckles before standing up partway from her chair and bending over the table, swiping a fry from my plate, and slipping it between her gorgeous lips.

My throat dries, and I swallow harder than I should, heat blazing in my lower abdomen. That fucking mouth.

“You’re not a very good storyteller, Enzo,” she says after chewing. “I thought you’d be better at lying.”

Enzo .

There she goes with my name again, and fuck, it sounds good rolling off her tongue.

I want to hear her say it again.

Moan it.

Scream it.

But that’s a dangerous thought, so I clear my throat and turn my face to the side.

Clearly, I have control issues around her.

“Why don’t you tell me what really happened?” she asks.

I run a hand through my hair. “Because that story’s been beaten to death.”

“Tell me anyway.”

I shrug, a weird tightening sensation spreading across my chest. “Someone tried to gut me like a fish, and Aria dragged me onto shore and saved my life. Then she just…never really left. She was by my side every day. Every day in the hospital, making sure I was taken care of. Not many people would do that, you know? See a dying man and stick around to make sure he lives.”

Venesa gives a sad smile.

“Anyway, I felt like I owed her, so when I was all healed up, my pops suggested I take her out, and then…” I shrug again.

“The rest is history,” Venesa finishes.

My gaze flicks up to hers, my chest feeling heavy. “Something like that.”

She nods, sucking on her teeth. “So who was it, then?”

I cock my head. “Who was what?”

“The person who tried to kill you.”

It’s a bold question. And one that not a single person has asked me other than my pops, and even he doesn’t seem to give a damn, too worried that everyone’s out to get him instead.

I shake my head. “No clue. I’ve got a lot of enemies, so it could’ve be anyone, really.”

That delicious-looking mouth of hers pops open. “You didn’t try to figure it out?”

Embarrassment fills me. “I did. I just couldn’t fucking find them.”

I push my plate away, my appetite entirely gone now. This is why I don’t like talking about this shit.

“Well, no offense,” Venesa says. “But the actual story’s way more interesting than that bullshit one you tried to sell me.”

“She really sang at my club, though, after everything.” I laugh. “I wasn’t lying about that.”

“How generous of you,” Venesa deadpans. “She always wanted to be a singer, even though, if you ask me, she isn’t much of one. Uncle T used to pay off the school so she’d get the leads.”

“She ain’t so bad.”

Venesa gives me a knowing look. “Such a gentleman.”

“You’re right. I liked her voice, but I got tired of hearing it, so I took her back to my office and fucked her until she couldn’t speak. How’s that for a gentleman?”

I’m not sure why I say it or why I’m watching her like a hawk to see how she reacts, but when her eyes heat instead of turn cold, like maybe she’s imagining me fucking her , well…that makes the tension ramp until the base of my neck goes hot and my dick grows hard.

My vision skims across her face and down her body, and I picture what it would be like to have her bent over an office desk with that silvery-white hair wrapped around my fist like a leash.

Christ.

She grabs her Coke, pulling the straw between her pillowy red lips, and now I’m picturing what it would be like to slip my fingers between them, to feel her teeth indent my skin the same way they tear up that mouth of hers.

She takes a sip and rubs her neck before smirking. “Just like a man.”

I smile back because she’s right. I am very much a man right now, a dog even. One who can’t keep it together enough around her to lock away the most basic, primal parts of me.

“It was the start of a beautiful relationship.” I say it mainly to remind myself, and my libido, that I am, in fact, in a relationship.

“So…tell me something else, Lover Boy.”

My brows lift. “What’d you want to know?”

“I don’t know. Something real. Something no one else knows. Like…how’d you get your nickname?”

My stomach cramps. She’s out of her mind if she thinks we’re talking about me like that. I paste on a cocky grin. “I’d think that’s pretty obvious.”

A challenge lights up her gorgeous dark brown eyes, and she stares at me for a few moments, her fingers tapping on the table. Then she shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so. It can’t be that easy.”

I don’t respond because she’s right. It isn’t.

“This is hardly fair.” She crosses her arms and leans back in her chair. “I gave you that whole sob story about my momma, and you won’t even give me a small, little, insignificant thing?”

After standing up, I throw a couple of hundreds on the table and walk around to her side, then lean down until my nose brushes against her hair. “Well, that’s your first mistake, piccola sirena. Who ever said I was fair?”

She inhales sharply, and I straighten, placing my hand in front of her to help her stand.

I lift her by the fingers, and her body twists until she’s facing me. She’s a tall woman, her head level with my shoulders, but she still has to crane her neck to look me in the eye.

When our gazes lock, my stomach drops out and my chest kicks.

Damn it.

She licks her lips. “Noted.”

Once we’re outside, I face her again, slipping my hands into my pockets because now that I’ve touched her, I’m finding it hard to think about doing anything else. “So, where to next?”

My original plan wasn’t to spend the entire day with her, if I’m being honest. I just wanted to know more about the mystery of Aria’s cousin. The woman who sits in on Trent Kingston’s business meetings and makes Aria so mad, she turns into a hissing, immature teenager.

But…I’m enjoying Venesa’s company. And I need to know if I can trust her or if this is all a ploy on her uncle’s orders.

Her face drops.

“What?” I step into her, and she throws her hands up, hovering above my chest.

“Seriously, what is with you and personal boundaries?”

“If you don’t like it, then push me away,” I challenge.

Her palms continue to hover, so close that I can feel the energy sparking off her fingers. But not close enough.

She drops them and sighs. “All right, just tell me where you want to go.”

I smile like I’m satisfied, but I can’t deny the disappointment settling inside me at her giving in so easily.

“Take me to the Lair.”