Hexed (Never After #6)

23. Enzo

TWENTY-THREE

ENZO

I’m doing everything I can to dissuade this feeling brewing between Venesa and me, but I just want to be next to her. To know her. To recreate the feeling of that day on the boardwalk, when I wasn’t E “Lover Boy” Marino, wasn’t a feared mafioso or a businessman.

I was just Enzo.

And I can’t remember a time before her when that was the case. Even now, as I sit in the blue booth on this pretentious yacht, I’m putting on a show, and I can’t help but wonder if Venesa is too.

She’s pissed off at me, that much I can tell, but I had to put the barrier back up between us, and frankly, we both could use the reminder.

Because even though I may want her, it doesn’t matter.

It isn’t about what I want. I’ve made commitments, and if I don’t follow through…

There aren’t many options for me here.

My gaze keeps alternating between where Bastien and Trent disappeared inside, somewhere beyond the long row of glass doors that line the entrance into the living room, and back to Aria, who’s moved her hands from my lap and is now lounging with her bright peach-colored toenails on my legs.

A sharp inhale of breath has me finally giving in and looking at Venesa. I partly expect her to be staring at me, and disappointment pings through me when she isn’t.

Which…why would she be?

I follow her gaze to a new man who’s standing on the edge of the yacht’s deck, his blond hair slicked back, the ends hitting the top of his neck.

His eyes are locked on Venesa, and when I look back to her, all the color has drained from her face, almost as though she’s seen a ghost. He’s tall, possibly even more so than me, and there’s a familiarity when I look at him that I can’t quite place.

Maybe it’s the aura of violence permeating the surrounding air.

Like attracts like, and this man? He’s uncontrolled brutality. I can sense it in his posture. If I squint, I can almost see the waves of energy emanating from his pores. Vibrating, like barely restrained rage.

Him being here immediately puts me on edge.

Venesa’s back is ramrod straight, and while she has a smile on her face, her eyes are sharp and narrowed and her lips are pulled tight at the corners.

The man rocks slightly on his heels and then takes a step forward.

Venesa bristles next to me before she slowly rises to her feet, and a spike of panic whirs inside me like a broken part rumbling in distress.

Does she know him?

It’s a new feeling, this restlessness, and I’m not sure why I’m feeling it with her of all people when I know better than anyone that she can take care of herself.

But I guess things like emotion don’t give a damn about logic.

Aria raises her hand, pushing the brim of her hat away from her face, and a surprised gasp leaves her. “He made it.”

Venesa snaps her head to Aria, disbelief coating every feature. Her pouty red mouth pops open and then closes again, but no words come out.

I’ve never seen Venesa not have complete control over a situation.

She has a sharp tongue, always has something to say, so to see her speechless is…different. I don’t think I like it.

The man walks over slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, until he’s directly in front of us.

“Hi, Yrsa.”

A flare of jealousy curdles my stomach at how easily he addresses her.

Who the fuck is this guy?

Venesa’s looks stunned, like she has no clue how to use her limbs—yet another uncharacteristic thing for her—and then she stiffens her jaw and glares at the man. “Harald. What the fuck are you doing here?”

He gives a sad smile. “I was invited.”

“By who?”

“By me,” Aria interrupts, grinning. “I thought it’d be a nice surprise. Family together again at long last. Happy birthday, Urch!”

Venesa closes her eyes in a slow blink and then turns to face Aria. Her fingers curl into the palms of her hands, her knuckles blanching like she’s afraid of what will happen if she doesn’t keep them in fists.

“Does—” Venesa clears her throat. “Does Uncle T know he’s here?”

Her voice is smaller now. Meek.

Harald glances at Aria with an unsure look.

“Of course he does.” Aria scoffs. “Who do you think tracked him down and got him here?”

I see it, then. The moment betrayal cuts through Venesa’s stunned exterior. It’s subtle, and she covers it well, but when you’re as obsessed with watching somebody as I am with Venesa, it’s easy to spot the minute changes.

God, what I wouldn’t give to take her away and place her somewhere no one can find her.

I don’t know who this is, but I know she doesn’t want him here, and if she were mine, I’d stand up, grip this sleazy fuck by the neck, and throw him overboard just to make her happy.

But she’s not mine. And it’s not my place.

Venesa inhales a heavy breath and then moves in slow, controlled steps like she’s about to burst apart at the seams.

Harald follows her.

Aria’s lips are twisted up as she watches her cousin and this stranger walk away, and my body is buzzing with the need to get up and follow them.

“Who’s that?” I ask.

“That’s Venesa’s father.”

Shock pins me in place, disbelief coating every inch of me like fresh paint. “Excuse me?”

Aria looks at me with a confused expression. “What’s your deal?”

“And you invited him here?” I look back over at Venesa and that piece of absolute shit, violence thrumming like a car engine beneath my skin. I feel the desperate need to hurt him. To torture him. To make him feel even a second of what he made his daughter go through.

“I thought it would be a nice birthday surprise.” Aria pouts, sticking her lips out like she didn’t expect Venesa to not want to see the man who abandoned her all those years ago.

A disbelieving breath leaves me, and I blink at her, at this stranger who’s wearing my ring. “You must be the most coldhearted bitch I’ve ever fucking met.”

This is mean.

Cruel.

Unprecedented.

Aria’s mouth drops. “Pardon? How dare you call me that? I’m your wife.”

I shove her feet off my lap and shoot to a stand. “Not yet, you’re not. Jesus Christ , Aria. How could you bring him here? Don’t you know what he’s fucking done?”

Suspicion fills her irises. “Do you ?”

I grit my teeth, trying to calm down the hurricane of rage pummeling my insides. “You’re the one who told me he killed her mom.”

She watches me closely. “Like she’s an angel? It’s time for her to get some closure. I thought she’d be happy.”

Her big, round eyes look at me like she’s waving a white flag, only unlike every other time she’s done it, I don’t buy it for a second.

Honestly, I’m at a loss for words.

“We tried to get my uncle Frankie out here too,” she adds, glancing at me from the corner of her gaze.

Now it’s me who’s suspicious, something uneasy fluttering its wings at the nape of my neck, urging me to pay attention.

Alarm bells start screaming in my head, but it doesn’t make sense. There’s absolutely no way anyone would have known I was digging for information on him, least of all Trent. And definitely not Aria .

The only person who knows is Gio, and it was only in text messages, and just his name and vague references to keeping an eye on Jersey.

I frown and look down at my pocket where my phone is. Impossible .

“Where’s he at, then?” I look around, trying to remain nonchalant, but I’m very, very on edge right now.

She hums and watches me like she’s the one who’s trying to read me . “Couldn’t make it.”

“You said he’s in Jersey, yeah? Maybe we can invite him to the wedding.”

She smiles, her shoulders relaxing. “Yeah, maybe so.”

My eyes shoot back to where Venesa disappeared, my body scorching with the need to check on her. To support her. To have her back because I’m pretty confident no one else on this boat will.

But even if I did follow her, I’m not sure she’d want me there. Not after what I did by having Aria ask her to be a bridesmaid.

Stupid, Enzo.

I hoped…

Well, I guess it doesn’t matter what I hoped.

Venesa’s never been one who needed saving.

And I’m not her knight in shining armor.