Page 103 of Hexed
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 isthiswhat 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 Icantrust?
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 clearlyintoxicated 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.
TWENTY-SIX
VENESA
I’d liketo say I’m sleeping when there’s a knock on my apartment door in the middle of the night, but the truth is I’ve been pacing back and forth in my silk shorts and spaghetti strap pj’s, visualizing all the ways I can murder Aria and get away with it without losing everything.
So far, I haven’t come up with any solutions.
I also haven’t come up with any way to get rid of this rage that feels like a flood being held back by a crumbling dam.
