Hexed (Never After #6)

39. Venesa

THIRTY-NINE

VENESA

I lie back on my hotel bed, my hair fluffing when I hit the cushy down pillow.

This is definitely a step up from the motel I was staying at in Yorkville. Enzo offered to put me in his hotel, and I accepted with open arms.

I shouldn’t have slept with him, though. Not without talking to him first.

He was drunk, and I was—am—scared of what he’ll say when he finds out the truth.

But I won’t lie and say I’m not enjoying being in a suite at the Marino. The lap of luxury is nice.

Is this how he lives all the time? Is this how Aria lived?

Uncle T and the Kingston name get her far in life, but it’s nothing to this level. This is…outrageous. Enzo’s name makes him seem like a god in this city, and if people know you’re one of his guests?

I’ve never been treated so well.

My stomach growls and caves in on itself, nausea creeping through my esophagus; the type that comes on fast and only hits when you’ve waited too long to eat and hunger isn’t an option anymore. It’s just straight to feeling ill.

Glancing around, I walk to my duffel bag and dig inside, pulling out the few hundred dollars I have left to my name.

It’s pathetic. Not the “having no money” part—that I’m an expert in. Money defines nothing other than it’s nice to have it. Makes life easier.

But it’s pathetic because after all these years, after everything I’ve done for my family, this is all I’m left with. I was brainwashed, clearly. Too blinded by my loyalty to Uncle T to see that he wasn’t even paying me my worth, and I’m worth a hell of a lot because I’m fucking fantastic. He won’t ever find someone better than me.

Still, the realization that our relationship differed from the way it was in my head makes me feel like garbage. Like everything I did means nothing.

Like my life means nothing.

Like I’m nothing.

The dichotomy of both emotions battling for supremacy in my head is tiring.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door.

“Room service!” A muffled voice hits my ears.

That’s weird. I didn’t order anything.

I didn’t pack my gun because I hate it, and to be honest, I didn’t even think about grabbing it before I left. Regret hits me at that decision now, though, because I don’t trust anyone who knocks on a stranger’s door. I can just imagine Bastien yelling at me over the years about situations exactly like this. It’s why he forced me to get the gun.

My chest aches when I think about Bastien. I didn’t even get to say goodbye, and even though I’ve written out a text a hundred times, I’m wary to send it. What if he’s loyal to my uncle, and they track me down somehow? What if he was part of everything and never really on my side at all?

The thought of it makes me sick.

Another knock and I consider grabbing my knife instead, but it’s all the way in the bedroom, so I take a chance and move toward the door instead.

“Room service!” the person yells out again.

I strain my ears, trying to hear if I recognize who it is, if there’s anything I can read from the tonality, but this is a nice hotel and the walls are thick…or maybe my heart is just beating in my ears and muffling the sound. I flex my hands, shaking out the sudden anxiety. There’s a globe on the side of the entryway table, all in gold, and I pick it up to test the weight.

Heavy and solid. Not my ideal weapon, but it will do in a pinch if I need it. I look through the peephole, my brows scrunching together when I see a man in an actual hotel outfit, white chef coat with stitching on the name and an honest-to-God delivery cart.

My fingers tighten on the doorknob until my knuckles turn white, and I don’t know why I feel so untrusting other than being here again after so many years has me on edge.

After all, this isn’t my first time here. I murdered Joey three years ago at this very hotel, in a suite just like this.

The guy looks young and bored, and he sighs, tapping again. “Room service!”

I swing the door open, hiding the globe as best as I can behind my back.

“Miss.” He tips his hat.

“What do you want?” I ask harshly.

“Uh…” He reaches up and scratches behind his ear before jerking his chin toward the cart. “Room service?”

Why does he seem unsure?

I swallow around my dry mouth, shaking my head and pressing my free hand to my temple with a silly grin. “I’m sorry, darlin’, you’re right. Where are my manners? Bring it on in.”

His shoulders relax, and he smiles at me. “Cute accent. Where are you from?”

“You sure you’re supposed to be asking questions like that?” I lift a brow.

His face flushes with embarrassment.

“You know, I don’t remember ordering any room service.” I bring the globe in front of me now, tossing it between my hands until my forearms burn.

He turns to me, his eyes shooting into circles when he sees me bouncing what’s basically a solid gold statue in my hands. “I’m just following orders, ma’am.”

I walk past him and pick up one of the metal tops covering plates of food. Pancakes. Looks like chocolate chips too. Side of fruit. Bacon. Eggs. Toast.

In fact, the more lids I peek under, the more I’m surprised, because it looks like someone ordered me the entire breakfast menu.

My stomach growls on cue.

And the coffee smells nice.

“I don’t have money to tip you,” I tell him.

He tracks the globe in my hand. “I was told not to accept anything.”

“Who’d you say sent it again?” I cock my head, placing down the heavy weight, amused at the way his nervous eyes follow it.

He swallows and shifts again on his feet. “Uh, Mr. Marino, ma’am.”

Surprise flitters through me, although I’m not sure why. I should have assumed it was from him. I’m just…tainted from my life. I don’t trust anyone, but when the guy freaking salutes me and walks out the door, I believe him.

Gratitude flows through me like a waterfall, and I close my eyes and let myself really sink into the moment, giving thanks that despite everything, this right here is something to be happy about. To immerse myself in.

A smile breaks over my face, and I sit down to eat without a second thought, because I’m hungry and I’m not too proud to accept a meal. Or ten meals, which is what it looks like on the giant rolling tray.

I’m only a few bites into my meal when another knock rings out. “Room service!”

The voice sounds different this time, but I grin, wondering what else Enzo sent me. I stand up and walk to the door again.

Sighing, I press my hand to my forehead and then swing it open. “Honestly, this is getting…”

My words cut off midsentence, getting stuck in my throat when Bastien stands on the other side, a look of disbelief on his face.

“You didn’t even check to see who I was,” he reprimands.

My heart skips, hope filling me like helium. “What are you doing here?”

He scoffs and pushes past me, stomping to the living room like he has any right to be mad at me .

The audacity.

Placing his hands on his hips, he twists around, whistling. “Damn, E put you up in this suite?”

I glance into the hallway and then close the door before walking over to where Bastien is.

He plops down on the couch so hard, he bounces, and then he grins at me. “Plush.”

I can’t really blame him. It is a soft couch.

“You didn’t answer my question.” I go to the dining area and push the rolling tray over to the living room, sitting down next to him and putting the plate of pancakes on my lap.

“What are you eating?” He reaches out like he’s grabbing a piece, and I smack his hand away.

“Mine.”

“Are those blueberry ?”

I shovel a bite into my mouth and grin. “Chocolate chip.”

He groans, rubbing his stomach. “I’m starving.”

Shrugging, I take another bite. “Tell me what you’re doing here, and maybe I’ll share.”

He sighs and runs a hand over his chin, leaning back on the couch. “I’m here because I can’t not be here. I won’t just sit by and watch your uncle fuck everything up. He shouldn’t have kicked you out, and considering I could have been here to kill you and you just opened the door without a second thought, it’s a good thing I came.”

“My uncle shouldn’t have done a lot of things.” I grab my coffee from the tray and take a sip. “Does he know you’re here?”

Bastien’s dark eyes grow serious. “He knows I’m tracking you down. I don’t want him to think I’m not on his side. Figure it can be useful if needed in the future.”

I tilt my head. “So you’re what, like a double agent?”

He shrugs. “Call it whatever you want.”

My heart pumping with affection, I push my plate of pancakes over to him and hand him the fork. “For you.”

He beams at me and takes it, stabbing a giant cut piece and eating it.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I admit. “Thank you for coming.”

He quirks a brow. “You’re not going to tell me I should go back home and save myself?”

I shake my head. “You don’t need saving. And you won’t lose anything, Bas. You’re gonna get more when I take it all from him.”

He sits back and nods. “You sure you’re up for it?”

“Of course I am,” I retort. “But first, I have some questions.”

“Like what?”

“Like…did you know Uncle T had Momma killed?”

Bastien blows out a heavy breath and falls against the couch like he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders.

The hesitation in his answer confirms what I’ve been worried about all along. That he knew about it, and he didn’t tell me.

A pinch of betrayal twinges in my chest.

But can I really blame him? None of us are perfect. None of us are the good guys here, and there are things I haven’t told people, things I haven’t told Enzo , so am I a hypocrite if I can’t forgive Bastien for the same transgressions I’ve committed against others?

I’m no better than him. Not really.

Like I’ve always said, we’ve all got our things.

“Venesa…” He pauses, and I brace myself for his answer. “He didn’t just kill your momma. He stole the Kingston empire out from under her entirely.”

I give him a confused look, my brain muddling. “What? Momma wanted nothing to do with the family’s legacy or with any money. She made that pretty clear when she chose my father and cut off everyone else for years. I never even met my granddaddy.”

Bastien shakes his head. “Your momma left on purpose, but Percius Kingston never got rid of her trust, and it’s irrevocable. On his death, she was supposed to get everything .”

My stomach flips, my mind racing a mile a minute. “I don’t understand. If it’s legal and binding, how did it all go to Uncle T?”

Bastien smiles sadly at me. “Come on, you know better than that. Your uncle owns Atlantic Cove. You think he can’t pay off a judge and a few lawyers?” He side-eyes me. “You think he can’t burn down a house and everything in it?”

My heart pitches forward, because I think he’s telling me Uncle T killed his own father. My brows furrow as I try to piece together the information. “So then he had Momma killed, and there was no trust to be found…”

“Can’t find something that’s turned to ash,” Bas confirms. “But I’ll tell you a secret, Venesa Andersen. That painting you all love so much? I found some things while I was preparing it for the engagement party.”

I sit forward, my heart pounding against my ribs.

Bastien locks his gaze on me. “Trent shouldn’t be running the Kingston empire, Venesa. It’s supposed to belong to you .”