Page 92 of Hexed
I don’t. Not personally anyway. Uncle T has always given me so much space that I don’t know what to do with it. And all I’ve ever wanted is to have him feel enough for me to be that suffocating.
Aria doesn’t know how lucky she is, so I tell her as much.
She shakes her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“I guess I wouldn’t. Listen, as much as I enjoy your impromptu visit, are you gonna be real with me? Because if not, you can leave. We both know you’d rather die than have me as a bridesmaid.”
She sucks in a deep breath and looks around, twirling the ends of her hair through her perfectly manicured fingers. “Fine. The truth is that E told me to ask you, and I want to make him happy, so here we are.”
Her words pierce through my chest and emotionally slam me into the wall.
Enzo asked for this?
I don’t know why that stings, but it does.
And actually, it pisses me off, Mister “I can’t see anything but you.”
That anger swirls inside me until it fills every dark crease and corner of my soul, and I let it fuel me, reminding me of exactly who and what I am.
Fuck Enzo for thinking he can send her here and shove their marriage in my face.
Like I needed the reminder.
I’m the one who kept saying no, that fucking asshole.
“All right, I’ll do it,” I say with a smile.
She looks at me in surprise.
“But it’s gonna cost you,” I continue, looking down at my nails like I can’t be bothered.
Aria groans. “I justknewyou’d be difficult about it. I even told E this was a waste of time, but he insisted.”
“That’s life.” I shrug.
“What do you want?”
I grin. “I’ll be your bridesmaid, but I want you to get me the family painting.”
She makes a face of disgust. “I’ve never understood your and Daddy’s obsession with that thing. It’s hideous.”
“It has sentimental value.” I reach out my hand. “Do we have a deal?”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to,” she says, seeming nervous and unsure. “Daddy loves that stupid thing.”
“I’m sure you can persuade him,” I coo. I’m not lying. If anyone can convince Uncle T to give me the painting, it’s her. He’d do anything for her: move mountains, kill people, fund an army just to wipe out her opposition.
“And if I can’t?” She quirks a brow.
“Then you don’t want to make your man as happy as I thought you would.”
I’m not sure why my chest spasms when I call him her man, but I have to stop myself from rubbing at the unexpected ache.
Aria drops the piece of hair she was twirling around her finger and then reaches out and grasps my hand in hers. “Deal,” she replies.
A grin spreads across my face. “Excellent.”
TWENTY-TWO
