Page 97 of Hexed
Because Enzo isn’t evenlookingat me.
He’s looking at her.
The same way everyone always does.
I turn my face, and when I do, my gaze clashes with a new set of eyes—dark brown—and my stomach drops to my feet.
TWENTY-THREE
ENZO
I’m doingeverything I can to dissuade this feeling brewing between Venesa and me, but I just want to be next to her. To know her. To recreate the feeling of that day on the boardwalk, when I wasn’t E “Lover Boy” Marino, wasn’t a feared mafioso or a businessman.
I was just Enzo.
And I can’t remember a time before her when that was the case. Even now, as I sit in the blue booth on this pretentious yacht, I’m putting on a show, and I can’t help but wonder if Venesa is too.
She’s pissed off at me, that much I can tell, but I had to put the barrier back up between us, and frankly, we both could use the reminder.
Because even though I may want her, it doesn’t matter.
It isn’t about whatIwant. I’ve made commitments, and if I don’t follow through…
There aren’t many options for me here.
My gaze keeps alternating between where Bastien and Trent disappeared inside, somewhere beyond the long row of glass doors that line the entrance into the living room, and back toAria, who’s moved her hands from my lap and is now lounging with her bright peach-colored toenails on my legs.
A sharp inhale of breath has me finally giving in and looking at Venesa. I partly expect her to be staring at me, and disappointment pings through me when she isn’t.
Which…why would she be?
I follow her gaze to a new man who’s standing on the edge of the yacht’s deck, his blond hair slicked back, the ends hitting the top of his neck.
His eyes arelockedon Venesa, and when I look back to her, all the color has drained from her face, almost as though she’s seen a ghost. He’s tall, possibly even more so than me, and there’s a familiarity when I look at him that I can’t quite place.
Maybe it’s the aura of violence permeating the surrounding air.
Like attracts like, and this man? He’s uncontrolled brutality. I can sense it in his posture. If I squint, I can almost see the waves of energy emanating from his pores. Vibrating, like barely restrained rage.
Him being here immediately puts me on edge.
Venesa’s back is ramrod straight, and while she has a smile on her face, her eyes are sharp and narrowed and her lips are pulled tight at the corners.
The man rocks slightly on his heels and then takes a step forward.
Venesa bristles next to me before she slowly rises to her feet, and a spike of panic whirs inside me like a broken part rumbling in distress.
Does she know him?
It’s a new feeling, this restlessness, and I’m not surewhyI’m feeling it with her of all people when I know better than anyone that she can take care of herself.
But I guess things like emotion don’t give a damn about logic.
Aria raises her hand, pushing the brim of her hat away from her face, and a surprised gasp leaves her. “He made it.”
Venesa snaps her head to Aria, disbelief coating every feature. Her pouty red mouth pops open and then closes again, but no words come out.
I’ve never seen Venesa not have complete control over a situation.
