Page 73 of Hexed
He purses his lips and nods. “I know.”
We’re quiet for a few moments, and I try to think about all the reasonswhyit can’t happen. Uncle T would disown me or worse. Enzo’s father would probably kill him. Or Aria. Or blame Uncle T. The possibilities are endless, and none of them are good.
Another hit of resentment slams into my chest at Uncle T for putting me in this situation to begin with: forcing me to spend time with a man I shouldn’t be near for several reasons, including the secrets I can never speak out loud.
“And why are you following me?” Enzo’s brow rises as he asks me.
I lift a shoulder. “Who said I’m following you? Maybe this was a coincidence.”
He chuckles. “I know bullshit when I hear it. You following me because you don’t trust me? Or because your uncle doesn’t?”
“Should I? Trust you, I mean.”
He looks out over the water, and again, I’m hit with the melancholy vibe as he watches the family pack up their belongings and leave.
“Does it matter?” he challenges. “Maybe I don’t trust you either.”
“That’s probably smart. Trust should be earned, don’t you think?”
He straightens and turns so fast that I stumble until it’smyback pressing against the wooden post.
A sharp breath escapes me when he steps into my personal space. Again. Because that’s all he ever does.
“I watched you torture a man and then cleaned you of his blood. I think that provides a certain level of intimacy, oftrust, don’t you?” he says.
I brush off the statement and turn my head to the side because I don’t want him to see how much he’s affecting me, because he can’t affect me this way. Not when he’s saying the things he is and standing so close. I can’tbreathewith him so close.
His hand moves toward me, and my eyes snap to the movement, anticipation making my heart kick against my ribs. He grips my chin between his forefinger and thumb, lifting my face until we lock eyes.
My stomach flips.
“I already told you,” he utters. “Iseeyou. Even when you look away.”
My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, and I try to think of something—anything—to say. But my mind is blank. So I just continue to stare at him, my legs clenching together to stem the heat flaring between them.
“Your eyes are so familiar,” he murmurs, releasing my chin and moving to ghost a gentle touch beneath my lashes. “Why is that?”
A flash of a memory hits me, his blood damp on my hands and his gaze locked on mine, the Hudson River lapping at his side.
Panic makes my lungs squeeze tight.
“What are you doing down here anyway?” I ask, turning away again and looking at the water. “I thought you were meeting Uncle T.”
An exasperated chuckle escapes him, and he shakes his head, releasing me and stepping back. “Christ, you don’t break, do you? Maybe I should just kill you and be done with it. One less person to drive me fucking mad.”
“You could try.”
He laughs again, his thumb chafing at the slight scruff on his chin.
“I didn’t realize murder was on the table, if I’m honest.” I lift my shoulders, trying to lighten the moment.
Because he’s right. Idon’tbreak. I can’t. Not for him. Not for anyone who makes me feel the way he makes me feel. My momma did that once, and look how it turned out for her.
I refuse to be my momma.
“It would certainly make things easier for me.” He cocks his head. “Aria would probably be happy too.”
Her name sends a sick type of envy swirling through my middle. “You could give my corpse to her as a wedding gift.”
