Page 9 of Hexed
I sit back and adjust my cuff links. “Come on, Aria. You knew who I was when you agreed to marry me.”
She huffs, turning her face toward the tinted window, but she doesn’t deny the statement. I know she thinks she’s in love, but for me, this marriage is nothing more than a business deal. One that gives her what she wants and appeases my father.
I owe them both.
“Ah, come on, don’t give me that.” I point to the pout on her face. “What do you want me to do?”
“An apology would be a start.” She lifts her chin and sniffs.
I chuckle. We both know she isn’t getting one of those. “How about that new ring you’ve been drooling over for the past month instead?”
She peers at me from the corner of her eye. “The pink diamond?”
My phone vibrates in my lap, but I don’t pick it up. Instead, I keep my gaze on Aria.
“How much was it again?” I ask.
She uncrosses her arms. “Does it matter?”
Yes.Money always matters, but I know the way to Aria’s heart isn’t through sweet words and apologies. “For you, princess? No.”
And that’s all it takes.
A bright smile crosses her face, and she turns toward me. It’s the same solution every time: I offer a new trinket for her to add to her collection of gizmos and gadgets, and she melts.
“I’m just nervous about how everything will go,” she says. “Daddy is… He and I haven’t… Well, I just want you two to like each other.”
In moments like this, it’s painfully obvious she doesn’t know me, even after a year together.
Originally, I hadn’t intended for it to be anything more than a few satisfying nights of her tight little pussy clamping around my cock. A nice way to thank her for saving me out on the Hudson when I was left for dead by…well, I don’t really know who.
I remember nothing from that night except waking up.
Turns out, Aria Kingston is a media darling, and when it hit the news that she’d saved my life, we became the “it” couple in New York. After my dad found out who her father was, it was game over.
Tying our family to the Kingstons in the South? That means more power and influence for him, and these days, it seems like that’s all he cares about.
If he weren’t so goddamn terrifying, the other families in the Cosa Nostra would be more vocal about how he’s muddling this thing of ours.
Ruiningit, if the whispers are to be believed.
However, nobody has the courage to stand up against him, especially after he sat behind his own consigliere in the back of a car and popped him in the head because he had a “feeling” he was about to be betrayed.
Never replaced him either. Instead, the duty of who he trusts falls solely onmyshoulders, and every day, that trust thins simply because of his own paranoia.
Especially after the failed attempt on my life.
All trying to kill me did was prod at the beast, and despite his shift in mental faculties, I’m nothing if not loyal, so what Carlos Marino says goes. Besides, it’s never been my job to speak reason back into my pops. That was always Peppino’s thing, and after my brother’s murder, I’m still not sure how to step into the role.
Forcing a smile, I grip Aria’s thigh.
She covers my hand, her eyes fixed on our fingers, probably envisioning the exorbitantly expensive piece of jewelry she is about to gain for her collection.
A few seconds of blessed silence go by before Aria lets go of my hand to open the compact refrigerator hidden behind the rear seats, and pulls out a chilled bottle of champagne, then pours some of the bubbly into one of the crystal flutes before handing it to me.
“Liquid courage?” I bring the glass to my lips and take a sip, hiding the grimace that wants to cross my face. I don’t actuallylikethe taste of overpriced garbage, but after the past few years of sipping on champagne to appease the pompous fucks I do legitimate business with, it’s become a tolerable taste.
“Something like that.” She glances out of the window and swirls her glass. “This trip will be good for you…forus. Atlantic Cove is slower in pace. We can relax, enjoy the engagement party, and you can get to know the area.”
