Page 135 of Hexed
A petty part of me—the envious part—wonders if Aria has ever seen him like this, and if she has…did he like it when she saw?
But of course, who am I kidding? He probably parades her throughout New York, the shining beauty at his side.
A hand grips my upper arm tightly, and I bite back a hiss, coming face-to-face with Scotty’s panicked eyes.
“Hey, cutie.” I grin. “Miss me?”
“Did you follow me?” he asks, glancing around.
“No offense, Scotty, but you’re not so great at being inconspicuous, you know?”
He blinks at me.
“Take it as a lesson.” I reach out and pat his cheek. “Something to work on for later.”
I pull away from his hold, but he tightens his hand on me again. “Come on, I gotta get you outta here before E sees.”
My grin drops, and I scowl at him because Idon’tappreciate being manhandled. “Take your hands off me. I won’t ask again.”
He freezes, probably because I’ve never spoken to him this way, but he doesn’t remove his grip.
“You lied to me, Scotty. And I don’t appreciate liars, so let me tell you a truth. If you don’t take your hands off me, everyone in here will get to see what arealshow looks like.”
Scotty’s jaw clenches like he can’t decide if my threat is genuine, and then his eyes widen and look behind me.
Goose bumps sprout along my body from the presence suddenly at my back.
“No free shows, baby,” says a dark voice.
THIRTY-EIGHT
ENZO
I’m a little drunk.
Believe it or not, that’s unusual for me. I usually cap myself off before I feel more than a slight buzz, never wanting to lose control of a situation or be caught off guard. And maybe it’s because I’m drunk that I swear I canfeelVenesa here.
I brush it off because that’s ridiculous. Nobody can actually feel a specific other person. That’s shit you see in the movies. Not real life.
“E, man, you hear me?”
I turn my head to look at Gio, realizing it feels so much heavier than it normally does.
A lazy grin spreads across my face. “Yeah, man. I’m always hearing you.”
My eyes scan the room again when a trickle of awareness drips through me.
Seriously, what the fuck?
Gio leans in closer, but since he’s a few inches shorter than me—something I never let him forget—I have to tilt my head down to hear him.
“You gotta get a new phone, man,” he says. “And the De Lucas are trying to reach out.”
“Ah, fuck,” I complain, running a hand over my chin. “I knew it.”
Yells erupt from in front of us, and my attention goes to the fighters in the ring, my knuckles itching to reach out and taste blood for myself. Back before I became Peppino 2.0, I was in this ring a lot. It was the perfect outlet, letting me execute the violence I feel inside without it overtaking every other aspect of my life. Pops would probably be pissed off if he knew I was showing my face here. This is Gio’s spot to run now, although technically it’s still mine in name.
A flash of silver white screams at me from the corner of the room. My eyes slam over to it, but it’s dark and I can’t see shit. Plus, my vision is just thetiniestbit blurred.
