Hexed (Never After #6)

27. Enzo

TWENTY-SEVEN

ENZO

Harald Andersen is dead.

Good fucking riddance.

I’m back at the front door of Venesa’s studio, standing behind her, my mind reeling from what Harald said before he died.

She hesitates before walking inside, spinning around to face me. There’s a haunted look to her expression, like her entire world was obliterated and she can’t figure out which way is up.

“Do you think he was telling the truth?” She doesn’t even look me in the eye, her focus on her bare feet.

I lift her chin, leaving my finger beneath it so she can’t turn away, wishing I could wipe away her confusion, her sadness, and take the brunt of it on my own shoulders just to bring her peace.

“I don’t know,” I reply honestly. “You never do with guys like that.” I hesitate before adding, “I don’t know why he’d lie, though.”

She swallows and nods, her hand coming up to cover my wrist, and when her fingers wrap around my skin, I swear it burns wherever she touches.

“I should have made him suffer.”

“This wasn’t about him,” I say. “This was about closure…for you.”

She gives me a sad smile, squeezing where we’re connected. “Thank you. I don’t know how I…well, nobody has ever done something like this for me before.”

My gaze drops to her perfect mouth that I’ve imagined a thousand different times in a hundred different ways. My thumb brushes against her bottom lip, and I wish I could replace it with my tongue.

She exhales, and the air grows charged—thick and heavy—pushing us closer together, until her body heat warms my skin.

“Enzo…”

My heart pounds in a staccato rhythm.

“In a different life”—I cut her off, pressing even closer until her neck cranes—“I’d kiss you.”

My gaze locks on hers, my thumb still skimming back and forth against her lip. “I’d drag you inside, and I’d spend all night taking away the pain he caused.”

“Don’t say that,” she starts, but I press hard against her mouth to keep her from continuing, because if I don’t get this out now, I don’t think I’ll be able to breathe.

And even if we can never act on it, she deserves to know. I want her to know.

“I’d tell you I only had Aria ask you to be a bridesmaid because I was trying like hell to do something— anything— to keep you in the box you’re supposed to be in for me, instead of letting you fill every goddamn space in my head.”

She inhales shakily, her breath hot against my fingertips, but she doesn’t reply.

“In a different life”—I bend until my mouth is centimeters from hers—“I would do anything to make you mine, and I’d bring you any person who’s wronged you and make them beg for death at your feet. All you’d have to do is say the word.”

“Enzo.” Her voice is deep and raspy. Like she’s seconds away from giving in and letting me have her in all the ways I dream about.

“Shh.” I stop her from speaking. “I know what you’re about to say, and I know we can’t…but I just needed you to hear it, out loud, at least once.”

I let go of her face and reach into my pocket, then pull out her actual gift and pass it over. Leaning down, I brush a kiss to her cheek, but her face moves at the same time, and instead I ghost across the corner of her lip. My body lights up with flames, my heart slamming against my rib cage like it’s trying to break from my chest and fall into her hands.

“Good night, piccola sirena. Happy birthday.”

Aria sighs loudly next to me as Scotty drives us back from a date she insisted upon.

I ignore her, because I don’t really have it in me right now to give a fuck, not when my head is filled with images of Venesa last night, of how she doled out retribution so flawlessly and how I couldn’t take away her pain.

“You okay, babe?” Aria asks, brushing her hand down my arm.

I shift away from her.

She scoffs. “You’re a real drag since last night on the yacht, you know?”

“So call it off, then,” I bite back.

Her body physically recoils and slams into her seat. “I…I don’t even know what to say to that.”

I run a hand through my hair, tugging on the roots.

“Why are you mad at me?” Her voice is meek now, and for the first time, I can hear the manipulation in its tone.

Christ , is this how I’m supposed to live the rest of my life?

“How could you have done that?” I spit out.

She gives me a confused look. “Done what?”

“Brought Harald Andersen here.”

A dark look covers her features, and the innocent, gorgeous girl I proposed to washes away like sea-foam being taken out by the tide. “This is all because of her ?”

I roll my eyes. “You have got to get over whatever shit you have going on with your cousin. That’s not how you treat family.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? She’s not family.”

I chuckle. “You’re being delusional.”

“And you’re being a prick.”

My tenuous control snaps, and I lean forward, gripping her face in my hand harshly. “I’d remind you to remember just who the fuck it is you’re talking to. I may be your fiancé, but I’m not your bitch, and I’m getting real tired of this spoiled-princess routine your dad helps flourish. You may get away with mouthing off to him, but you won’t disrespect me again.”

Tears line her lower lid, and a bit of guilt whips through my middle.

I loosen my grip. “You get me?”

She swallows and nods, a few tears creeping out of the corners of her eyes and trailing over my fingers. I pat her cheek before releasing her and sitting back in my seat.

We don’t speak another word until we get to the estate, and even then, she simply opens and slams the car door before disappearing inside. It’s funny, because for the longest time, I was wishing for the fire she just showed me, but now it feels like a square peg in a round hole or a shoe on the wrong foot. Uncomfortable and out of place.

And I’m wondering if I ever really knew who Aria was at all or if she’s been putting on an act this entire time—similar to how I am, I suppose. Though it’s not like she knows the marriage is a business arrangement.

At least I didn’t used to think she knew. Now I don’t know who I can trust.

I send Scotty away with the car right after because I’m not in the mood for chitchat, and I go on a walk around the estate instead of heading straight inside. I need to clear my head before I see Aria again. Unfortunately, in this life, games have to be played carefully, and I can’t piss her off too much until I figure out what the fuck I’m doing.

I need to get back to New York.

After about an hour, my head no clearer than it was before, I make my way to the front of the mansion, preparing to head inside, but my footsteps stutter to a stop right before I turn the corner when I hear voices.

“What do you mean, you’re not coming?”

My heart skips a beat. Venesa . Moving forward slightly, I see her standing on the front steps, talking with Bastien.

“Babysitting duty, on orders of His Majesty,” he replies, crossing his arms and leaning against one of the white pillars that line the front porch.

Venesa sighs, and I don’t have to see her up close to imagine the way those teeth are sinking into the pillowy-soft bottom lip of hers. “ Babysitting duty?”

He nods. “Yeah, Aria’s…out of sorts, I guess? Came running into his office with tears, screaming about how she was losing Enzo.”

A brief stab of panic hits me because the last thing I need is for gossip to get back to Pops, especially when I haven’t spoken to him in days while I try to figure out what the De Luca family wants with me.

Venesa laughs, but the sound is hollow. “Of course, he has you watching her instead of going with me.” She glances at the front door and then back. “I should go ask him why. In fact, there are several things I need to speak with him about.”

Bastien grips her arm tightly, rooting her in place. “We don’t ask questions, V. You know that. That’s not how this works, never been how this works.”

“Well, what the hell am I supposed to do, go to meet these pricks alone? You know how they get. Especially if Johnston knows I took out his brother-in-law.”

My ears perk up with interest, and I take a step out from where I’m hiding behind the building so I can take in Bastien’s face. What does she mean “go alone”?

His brows are drawn down, concern etched plainly on his features. “You’ve got your gun?”

Venesa scoffs. “Please, give it up. You know I hate that thing.”

“I don’t enjoy thinking about you dead.”

“They won’t kill me.”

He shrugs. “They might.”

“Then come with me, Bas.”

He shakes his head, seemingly frustrated. “I can’t, V.”

I take a step forward, my foot crunching on rock. Venesa doesn’t turn around, but Bastien’s eyes flick to mine for a single moment before he lifts his chin, his nostrils flaring.

“I wish someone would, though.”