Page 107 of Hexed
Standing up straight, I digest his words and try to separate fact from fiction.
“Momma said it was you when I asked who was home.” I step back, dropping the needle onto my rolling table. “Shetoldme.”
But a flash of her thinned lips and scared expression floats through my memory.
He coughs and grunts, his left arm swelling and growing pink. “She was lying.”
I scoff. “Convenient. If it wasn’t you, who was it?” After grabbing the knife I placed down earlier, I hold it at the side of his neck. “And don’t pretend like you don’t know. Tell methe truth and I’ll make your death fast, even though you don’t deserve it.”
“If I had to guess?” He coughs again, blood seeping from the corners of his mouth. “The people I owed money to.”
I press the blade harder into his neck. “And who was that, Harald?”
“Your uncle. Trent Kingston.”
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. Iwanther 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.”
