TWENTY-FIVE
ENZO
I stay for the rest of the dinner, even though I’m beyond ready to leave.
I’m disgusted with any of them calling themselves Venesa’s “family” when they don’t show up for her in any way that matters, and I’m even more disgusted with the fact I have to sit here and pretend I still want anything to do with the woman next to me, but I don’t know how to get out of this wedding unless I kill my father, and I don’t know if I’m ready to accept that or anything that comes with it.
I promised Ma to never go against him, and now…
Today has made my indecision waver because now I don’t know if I can make myself marry her.
Dinner is stilted. Or maybe it’s just in my imagination. Bastien and I seem to be the only two people at the table who give a fuck that Venesa, the person whose birthday we’re supposed to celebrate, isn’t here.
Aria, Trent, and Harald—the motherfucker—are jovial. Laughing and drinking wine like this is the best night of their lives, as if they’ve been friends for years.
I thought they didn’t even know each other and that Venesa’s mom had been cut off for choosing him. Yet here they are, one big happy family.
And again, Venesa is missing.
Anger is so potent in my bloodstream, it makes my skin itch. It’s literally as though none of them even notice she’s gone.
“I’m sorry.” Bastien interrupts the conversation, throwing his fork on the plate and sitting back. “Are we all going to just sit around here and pretend like it’s okay that this motherfucker is at the table?”
My acceptance of Bastien blossoms into respect.
“Not me,” I reply, cutting a look to Harald.
He shrinks under my gaze, clearing his throat and draining his wineglass.
There are so many things I want to say to him, but if I do , I’ll have to answer to Trent and Aria as to how I know them. And I’m not an ignorant man. I know when to play my cards and when to keep them close.
“Bas, a little decorum,” Trent chastises.
Bastien laughs and scoots back from the table before standing up. “Not this time, Trent. I do a lot of things for you, and I hold my tongue on a lot of others. But this is fucked, even for you.”
Trent’s lips thin.
“That girl loves you more than she loves herself, and all she’s ever wanted is for you to treat her like family,” Bastien continues.
I nod along with him.
“And this is what you do?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Trent says.
Bastien’s knuckles press against the table as he leans in. “Then explain it to me, boss.”
Trent’s eyes flare, and his shoulders broaden like he’s trying to make himself look as large as possible. “Peacocking” is what we call it back home. Posturing because you need to show off something you don’t really have.
“I don’t need to explain anything to you,” Trent says, “and I’ll tell you right now to change your tone and remember your place before I remind you of what it is.”
Bastien sighs, throwing down his napkin and walking out of the room.
I desperately wish I could follow, but I can’t.
Maybe I’m a coward. Feels like it.
“I’m sorry about that, Harald.” Trent takes a sip of his wine.
The bastard shakes his head and chuckles. “It’s fine. I’ve got a lot to explain to my daughter. A lot to make up for. It isn’t his fault he thinks I’m a piece of shit when I’ve been one.”
My brows shoot to my hairline because is this what he’s going with? This is the story he’s telling?
I bite my cheek to keep from speaking or from launching myself over the table and beating the fuck out of him, the same way I used to when I’d fight in the underground cage matches back home. Back when I could partake in such activities. Now they’re considered beneath me.
“Well, Venesa’s never been someone who has the decorum to be around people anyway, if you ask me,” Aria throws in. “Ungrateful, honestly.”
I breathe deeply, flexing my fingers to keep my calm, but it’s no use. I have to get out of here, or else I’m going to explode.
“Excuse me,” I say, shoving out my chair to stand and leaving without another word. The same way Bastien did.
The urge to disappear completely and force Aria to find her own way back to her house is strong, but I resist, because until I can figure out a plan, I can’t afford to piss everyone off.
But I was a fool. I thought I could put this thing aside, that I could marry Aria and make my pops happy and settle for whatever life everyone else has laid out for me, but if it means this? If it means being tied to a woman this cruel and not being able to speak up for someone who deserves it? I don’t know if I can do that.
A deep realization settles inside me, right in my solar plexus, my anxiety whistling through my bones like leaves in the breeze.
Things have to change.
I step outside onto the deck and stare up at the stars, trying to decide what the hell I’m going to do. Whatever it is, it will have to wait until I’m back in New York. I don’t trust that my phone isn’t tapped after Aria mentioned Frankie to me, and I’m also not convinced she is as innocent as she tries to play.
There are a lot of things going on here that make no sense, actually, and it makes my hackles rise, because is there anyone I can trust?
Venesa.
Her name pops into my head so quickly, it almost doesn’t even register as a thought. I’ve only known her for a short time in the grand scheme of things, but there’s a connection there, one I’ve never felt with another person, and I know she’s real with me, maybe one of the only people who ever is.
She’s one of the few people I can trust.
I sit down in the same spot Venesa was when we first arrived and close my eyes, trying to feel her energy or…something. I don’t know what I’m doing exactly, but the thought of her having been here just a few hours before is like a balm to my anger, and I don’t want to fight the feeling. She’s into that vibrational shit, so maybe I’m hoping it will rub off on me.
I’m not sure how long I sit here, my eyes closed, picturing Venesa’s face in my mind, but it’s long enough for Harald to walk outside by himself, stumbling over his feet and clearly intoxicated as he makes his way off the boat. If I were thinking straight, I would go back inside and make up an excuse to Aria about why I have to leave because the last thing I need is one more fucking headache to deal with while I figure everything out. It’s important my pops stay clueless to any thoughts I have swirling around in my head. But I don’t want to lose sight of Harald for a second.
Because I just thought of the perfect birthday gift.