Hexed (Never After #6)

21. Venesa

TWENTY-ONE

VENESA

Nothing good ever happens on birthdays.

It was my birthday when Momma would take me to the boardwalk and love bomb me, and it was my birthday when my dad beat her to death while I hid in a cupboard beneath the kitchen sink.

That’s a truth I keep buried deep inside me, where I’ve torn it up into tiny little pieces and hidden it away. In fact, there’s only one person on the entire planet who knows even part of that truth, and his fiancée is standing at the entrance to the Lair.

“Don’t look so surprised to see me,” Aria states.

“Well, don’t just lurk in doorways,” I reply. “It’s creepy.”

She walks in, running her finger along one of the saltwater tanks that line the entrance and then bends her knees until she can stare at the fish inside.

I am surprised to see her. It’s not even noon on a Sunday morning, and the Lair is closed today.

Aria looks around, her bright red hair bouncing perfectly like she’s a cartoon brought to life. “It’s so dreary in here, Urch.”

“Thanks for the notes. What do you want, Aria?”

She shrugs, the latest designer bag dangling from her arm. A hit of envy swirls deep in my gut because I’ve been on the waiting list for that bag for over a year, and even if I came off it, I’m not sure I have enough saved up to justify the cost. But God , it’s gorgeous.

Aria slips it off her shoulder as she walks farther into the room and slings it onto the bar top like it’s a crumpled-up napkin, not a three-thousand-dollar piece of art.

“I got curious,” she says simply, perching herself on the barstool and crossing one of her long skinny legs over the other. “And I was bored.”

A yawn escapes me, and I cover my mouth while walking behind the bar and starting the coffee machine that’s nestled in the corner. “You want something to drink? Coffee?” I ask.

She taps her nails on the bar top and nods. “Of course I do. I don’t suppose you have anything better than processed sludge?”

“Afraid not.”

Smirking, I lean against the wall, the high-end liquor bottles on display above me, and I cross my arms as I watch her. She’s not really focused on any one thing, but every so often, her eyes flick across the room like she’s looking for something in particular.

Or someone.

A brief flash of panic hits me that maybe she’s looking for Enzo and thinks he’d be here with me…but I brush it off because that’s ridiculous.

“Fisher’s not here,” I say, testing the waters. “If that’s who you’re glancing around for.”

Her eyes snap to mine, and she laughs, running a hand through her hair, snagging on the ends when she gets caught in a tangle. She frowns down at it and tries to pick it apart with her fingers, and when that doesn’t work, she reaches out, grabs one of the silverware roll-ups, and undoes it, taking a fork and using it to comb through the ends.

Now I look at her . “I have a brush you can use.”

She glances up from where she’s running the fork through her hair, her brows hopping high on her forehead. “Why? This dingle thing works just fine.”

“Because it’s disgusting?” I phrase it like a question.

She scowls at me. “ You’re disgusting. Always have been. Stop projecting your self-loathing onto me. Momma used to use these all the time when I needed something to get out knots.” She picks at her ends again.

“That’s…strange.”

“Says the girl who chants to the moon,” she bites back.

A grin takes over my face. “Don’t be mad because I know you’re scanning the room for Fisher.”

The fork gets stuck in her hair, and she jerks it free. “I am not .”

“You are,” I say, walking over to the coffee machine and grabbing two mugs. “You still take it black with two sugars?”

“Yeah,” she replies.

I make the coffees and pass one to her before leaning on the bar, my elbows resting on the top while I bring the hot mug to my lips and take a long sip. “Why are you here, Aria?”

She takes her own sip before sighing and setting the mug down. “I told you, I was curious. I remember when we were kids, you used to talk about this place all the time, but Daddy wouldn’t ever let me come see it for myself.”

“He was right for that. This wasn’t a place for any kid to be.”

“You were here.”

I grin. “And look how I turned out.”

“How about now, you think it’s okay for kids?”

“Now it’s probably worse.” I take another sip.

A ghost of a smile passes over her face, and this is weird.

It’s been…years since we talked like this. In fact, the only time it happened was when I first moved into the estate, right after we met, when she bounced into my room and proclaimed me her new sister and that we’d be best friends.

Funny how short-lived that was.

Now there are too many years of hurt. Too many unforgivable things she’s done that I can’t look past.

“I saw Rusty last night,” I tell her.

Her body stiffens, the mug poised at her bottom lip.

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” I cock my head. “Bring back memories of some of your worst traits?”

Aria sniffs and lifts her chin, placing the coffee cup down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

It was her sixteenth birthday party, and she brought him to my room and barricaded the door so I couldn’t get out.

Flashes of that night zoom through my mind, sending a ripping sensation down my middle, letting the hurt bleed out onto the floor.

Me screaming.

Him shoving a shirt in my mouth while he yanked down my sleep shorts and stuck his dirty dick inside me.

Fisher showing up after and forcing his way in, finding me sobbing in a corner.

Him telling Bastien.

Bastien calling the family doctor and not letting me leave my bed for a week while I healed.

A shiver rolls down my spine, nausea making my stomach churn, and I shake off the memories, smirking at Aria because if I don’t, I might reach out and throttle her instead.

And Uncle T would probably kill me if I did, so like I always have, I rein the anger in.

“Why are you smiling like that?” she asks.

The grin drops from my face. “I’m not allowed to smile now?”

She scrunches her nose up, and a jolt of nostalgia hits me. She’s always done that, made these innocent little gestures that sucked everyone in around her. Back in school, I used to watch Fisher stare across the cafeteria at her with this look on his face.

Longing.

Like she was the best thing in the world. And maybe she was to him.

Staring at her now, I try to see the appeal, although it isn’t Fisher I’m imagining looking at her that way.

It’s Enzo.

Jealousy weaves its way through my stomach and surges until it wraps around my chest.

“Listen, I need a favor,” Aria says.

I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. Her asking for a favor is beyond hilarious, if we’re being honest. “The answer’s no.”

“You haven’t even heard what it is.”

I reach down to turn on the bar sink and toss out the bit of coffee left in my cup. “I don’t need to hear about it to know I won’t be helping you.”

“Well, I want you to be a bridesmaid.”

A cough pours from my throat from me choking on saliva, my eyes watering from the burn.

“I’m sorry,” I get out after finally getting myself under control. “Why on earth would I do that?”

She won’t meet my eyes. “Why wouldn’t you? You’re family. It’s what Daddy would want.”

“Since when have you cared what he’d want?”

She scoffs and taps her fingers on the bar top. “I’ve always cared.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she retorts. She twirls the fork she used in her hair before letting it drop with a clink . “He’s just so suffocating; you know how he gets.”

I don’t. Not personally anyway. Uncle T has always given me so much space that I don’t know what to do with it. And all I’ve ever wanted is to have him feel enough for me to be that suffocating.

Aria doesn’t know how lucky she is, so I tell her as much.

She shakes her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I guess I wouldn’t. Listen, as much as I enjoy your impromptu visit, are you gonna be real with me? Because if not, you can leave. We both know you’d rather die than have me as a bridesmaid.”

She sucks in a deep breath and looks around, twirling the ends of her hair through her perfectly manicured fingers. “Fine. The truth is that E told me to ask you, and I want to make him happy, so here we are.”

Her words pierce through my chest and emotionally slam me into the wall.

Enzo asked for this?

I don’t know why that stings, but it does.

And actually, it pisses me off, Mister “I can’t see anything but you.”

That anger swirls inside me until it fills every dark crease and corner of my soul, and I let it fuel me, reminding me of exactly who and what I am.

Fuck Enzo for thinking he can send her here and shove their marriage in my face.

Like I needed the reminder.

I’m the one who kept saying no, that fucking asshole.

“All right, I’ll do it,” I say with a smile.

She looks at me in surprise.

“But it’s gonna cost you,” I continue, looking down at my nails like I can’t be bothered.

Aria groans. “I just knew you’d be difficult about it. I even told E this was a waste of time, but he insisted.”

“That’s life.” I shrug.

“What do you want?”

I grin. “I’ll be your bridesmaid, but I want you to get me the family painting.”

She makes a face of disgust. “I’ve never understood your and Daddy’s obsession with that thing. It’s hideous.”

“It has sentimental value.” I reach out my hand. “Do we have a deal?”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to,” she says, seeming nervous and unsure. “Daddy loves that stupid thing.”

“I’m sure you can persuade him,” I coo. I’m not lying. If anyone can convince Uncle T to give me the painting, it’s her. He’d do anything for her: move mountains, kill people, fund an army just to wipe out her opposition.

“And if I can’t?” She quirks a brow.

“Then you don’t want to make your man as happy as I thought you would.”

I’m not sure why my chest spasms when I call him her man, but I have to stop myself from rubbing at the unexpected ache.

Aria drops the piece of hair she was twirling around her finger and then reaches out and grasps my hand in hers. “Deal,” she replies.

A grin spreads across my face. “Excellent.”