Page 4 of Hexed
“You’re asking a lot of questions for a girl with broken shoes and a clear death wish.” I gesture to our surroundings.
I found her the same way I always find her: the tracking device my uncle installed in not only her phone but also the bracelet she got for her sweet sixteenth.
Truthfully, the tracking tech is probably in everything he’s ever given her, which is the whole caboodle. Aria doesn’t exactly make her own money, and he’s beyond overprotective of his only daughter, even after she up and skipped town years ago. Sometimes I wonder if she realizes that allowing him to bankroll her entire life means the whole “running away” thing doesn’t hold any weight, but she seems happy enough, and she’s always loved to live in the lap of luxury, so I’m not really surprised.
Aria crosses her arms. “Did Daddy send you again?”
I smirk.
She already knows the answer to that.
“I’m not a fucking kid! I can do things on my own. Make sure you remind him of that when you go back home.” She stomps her foot and then winces before bringing it up to look at the sole. There’s a thin stream of red, and she groans. “Great.”
I quirk a brow, looking pointedly at the broken heel of the shoe she’s carrying in her hand and then to the deserted area we’re in. “Seriously, what are you doing traversing damp rocks and murky waters in a thousand-dollar gown?”
She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she gives me a curious look, like I should alreadyknowwhy she’s out here being reckless.
“I was on a date,” she finally says. “It didn’t go well, and it’s…peaceful on the water.”
She moves then, stumbling along the rocky shoreline, her dainty fingers reaching for purchase on some of the larger boulders as she slips between them.
“Where the hell are you going, Aria? Don’t you wanna know what dear ol’ Daddy has to say?” Begrudgingly, I follow her.
She trips and lets out a sharp hiss.
“You’re gonna cut up your feet and get them infected.” I try again just to get her to slow down.
She looks back at me and stops moving. “You’re so dramatic.”
“Seems like high praise coming from you,” I muse. “Maybe I should take my chances in New York, try out the whole singing thing, andyoucan go home and work for your daddy.”
“Be serious.”
“You don’t think I’d have better luck getting auditions for Broadway?”
She snorts. “Please.”
I’m not being serious. I enjoy working for my uncle, even more so now that Aria’s been gone for years and I get his full attention. Besides, I’m confident Aria has no clue who her father actually is beyond being the wealthiest businessman in the South.
WhatIdo for him is so much more than that. I help prop up that hollow legacy, making sure the truth of his power remains out of sight.
Corruption sings with shiny buildings and fancy suits, and thetruthis that my uncle is not only a respected businessman but he’s also the most powerful gangster in the South.
In any case, I don’t blame Aria for leaving South Carolina. New York is something special. Across the Hudson, broken up by the thick cables of a bridge, is the city skyline, and when I see it, something warm expands in the center of my chest.
I love it here, although admitting that out loud would mean also admitting I have something in common with Aria.
She’s been obsessed with Manhattan since we were kids. She would find pictures in magazines to cut out and hang on her walllike window dressing, and I guess her obsession rubbed off on me.
It’s all farcical, though. Dreams are that for a reason. Just dreams.
Maybe one day she’ll learn…or maybe she won’t. What do I care?
“Well.” She throws her hands out to her sides. “What is it, then? Spit it out, Urch. What’s Daddy want now? Did he send you out here to try and help me?”
I snap out of my daze, glowering at Aria for the nickname as I move toward her, trying my best not to slip on the rocks. “What do you mean ‘help you’? Withwhat?” I look at her funny because what is she even talking about? “He just wants to make sure you’re okay.”
Aria blinks at me, that same confused look as earlier coasting across her face. “That’s it?”
