Hexed (Never After #6)

20. Enzo

TWENTY

ENZO

It’s been three days since the boardwalk with Venesa, and I can’t get her out of my head.

Plus, it’s August 18.

Her birthday.

A day I know she’d rather forget.

Right now, I’m on the Kingstons’ private beach, walking down the shoreline until I’m far enough away from the estate that I feel confident the cameras aren’t picking me up and no one has followed me.

“So what’s the problem?” Gio asks, his voice gruff in my ear.

I adjust my phone and glance around one last time before replying, “What makes you think there’s a problem?”

He chuckles. “You just let me talk to you about bullshit for the past twenty minutes. When have you ever let me do that?”

“It’s not my fault you talk so much.”

“You love me. Don’t deny it.”

I find a spot on the sand and sit down, blowing out a deep breath so I can force the words I’m trying to find into the air. Once I say them, I won’t be able to take them back, and even though they’re just to Gio, they’re still hard to get out.

Saying it out loud makes it real.

“What do you think the chances are that Pops lets me cancel this wedding?” I finally blurt.

Gio’s silent.

I roll my eyes and lean my head back to stare up at the sky, squinting from the sun. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

“Listen, I’d love it if you could cut the bitch off, but we both know your dad is never gonna go for it. Not unless you can offer him something better. Something more .”

I squeeze my eyes shut and rest my elbows on my knees. I feel like I can’t breathe.

A tingle of awareness shoots up my spine, and my eyes pop open. I can’t help this eerie feeling like I’m being watched. I glance around but don’t see anyone.

I’m losing my fucking mind.

“Do you?” Gio presses. “Have something better to offer?”

Better? Yes. Something my pops will approve of? Fuck no.

Besides, I don’t. Not really. It’s not like I want to marry Venesa. That’s crazy. I don’t even know her. Only…it feels like I do. Feels like I always have, if I’m being honest.

Not that it matters. This entire conversation is ridiculous. I’m being ridiculous.

“I don’t know, man. I just…things don’t feel as cozy as I thought they would, if you know what I mean.”

“Ah.” Gio’s quiet on the line for a few moments before he speaks, and when he does, there’s an air of caution in his tone. “I’m gonna be straight with you, E: I don’t know if your pops is gonna give a fuck about all that, especially since this was an arrangement made with Aria’s dad, so if you want to get out of this—if you really want to—you better figure out your next steps.”

“I couldn’t give a fuck about Aria’s dad.”

“Yeah, but you do give a fuck about yours.” He pauses. “Listen, E, I’m behind you one hundred percent, but shit won’t be easy. You hear me?”

I swallow over the knot in my throat and nod even though he can’t see me. “Yeah, I hear you.”

“Okay. Good. Cazzo , you need to get back to New York, E. That Southern heat’s fucking with your head.”

Gio laughs, and I force myself to match his tone, but there’s something stirring up inside me, and now that it’s there, I don’t think it can be tamed. A seed planted, even though he didn’t say the words.

I can read between the lines: the only way out of this marriage is to make sure my pops isn’t in charge.

The thought makes me sick to my stomach, but would it really be so bad ?

“Any news on Frankie?” I shift the subject.

“Nothing.”

My brows furrow. “What do you mean, ‘nothing’?”

“I mean, the guy’s a fucking ghost.”

That’s not normal. Having no paper trail is beyond the pale. It makes it feel intentional, like someone is trying to hide something. But what would be the reason to hide your involvement with a family as powerful and well-known as the Kingstons?

“Keep looking.”

I’m still thinking about my conversation with Gio an hour later as I stare at Aria standing next to her bedroom dresser and putting on her jewelry.

“Maybe tonight we can do something just the two of us,” she says, walking over to me and plopping into my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck.

I try not to grimace. “I thought tonight was dinner on your dad’s yacht?”

Aria rolls her eyes. “Who cares? It’s just some stupid thing for Venesa’s birthday. Let’s skip it.”

“We should go,” I argue.

“Has she said something to you?” Aria huffs, her body almost vibrating with sudden tension. “Don’t fall for it. She’s just like her momma, uncultured and unworthy. They’re liars, all of them. Liars!”

I sit back in my seat, shock sitting heavy in my chest, and I blink at her. “Jesus, Aria, calm down.”

She lets out a soft giggle and presses a hand to her upper body, closing her eyes for an elongated moment. When she reopens them, there’s nothing behind her gaze. Just an innocent, doe-eyed look. “I’m perfectly calm, babe. As long as you remember that this is your ring on my finger, which means you’re mine.”

I stare at her because she’s acting wildly different. I’ve never seen someone change personalities at the drop of a hat before, and I’m questioning which one of them is real.

She presses her palm to my cheek. “Sometimes when I look at you, it’s easy to forget how close to death you were when I found you. Do you remember?”

Gritting my teeth against the sudden hit of guilt, I nod. “I remember what you told me.”

“You were so broken.” Her voice catches. “So vulnerable. But even then, I just knew you were meant for me.”

Something stirs in the back of my brain. “You know, you never did tell me why you were there that night.”

Her eyes flash. “Because fate took me there after a shitty date with someone else. To you. It brought us together, E—never forget that.”

She’s right. She did save me. I don’t just owe her my loyalty; I owe her everything.

It’s because of Aria I’m still around, and she loves me.

She isn’t complicated.

She’s no mess.

With her, things can stay exactly as they are, and I won’t have to ruffle feathers. I won’t have to make a judgment call about my own flesh and blood that makes nausea burn my throat.

“You should try to mend things with your cousin while you’re here,” I say.

She sighs and drops back from me, pursing her lips.

“Ask her to be a bridesmaid or whatever. Extend the olive branch.”

“A bridesmaid?” She makes a displeased face, her eyes searching mine. “That would make you happy?”

I swallow because no , it wouldn’t. And I know it won’t make Venesa happy either, but a boundary needs to be set, and I need to remember who the fuck I am. I don’t have the luxury of going after things I want, not unless I either want to upend an entire empire with it or wind up dead, and no matter what Venesa makes me feel, I can’t act on impulses. Not like this.

“Yeah, that would make me happy,” I fib.

The words taste like bile on my tongue, but now that they’re out there, I can’t take them back.

I don’t want to take them back , I try to convince myself.

But even thinking it, I know it’s a lie.