Page 1 of Entwined Lies (Entwined #1)

Isabelle

“Special Head at nine. By ten, she was missing half of it,” I said, tapping my nail against the screen, the crimson polish nearly blending into the blood spatter.

The gunshot wound was messy, sure, but that wasn’t the part that stood out. Men killed for money, for power, for convenience. This? This was something else.

She was naked, thighs spread, one hand limp between them, posed like a final insult.

Like she had never been anything but something to be used and discarded.

And the bruises around her throat told the real story.

The bullet was just the punctuation mark—a final fuck you to a woman who had already lost.

I looked up, the pristine order of my office—white cabinets, beige furniture, carefully arranged degrees—mocking the mess in front of us.

Next to me, Chrissy furrowed her brows, the leather sofa creaked softly as she crossed her legs. Chanel suit, flawless skin, and every auburn strand in place. She looked like she belonged on the cover of Vogue, not sitting across from a laptop displaying a corpse in a pool of blood.

“That’s from her calendar?” Her gaze flicked from me to the screen.

“Yes. Special Head. Nine p.m. Block letters, like it was just another night. ”

Chrissy sighed, like we were scrolling through bad real estate photos, not crime scene shots. “He really took ‘I blow your mind’ to the next level.”

“We’re not supposed to joke about dead women.”

“I’m not. I’m pissed at the son of a bitch who made her one.”

After a beat, she pointed to the background, then zoomed in on the corner of the shot. “See?”

“The dildo?”

“No, next to it. But seriously, if I die, your first job is burning my stuff. I want it gone before anyone can see.”

“It works the other way too,” I huffed a quiet laugh and reached up to adjust my glasses.

Except they weren’t there. Not anymore. Muscle memory had a funny way of sticking around, even when the reality had changed.

My vision was perfect now—too perfect. No blur, no soft edges, just sharp, high-definition reality.

Like the newspaper on the nightstand, folded neatly beside an array of sex toys.

My brows shot up.

I knew that article. We knew that article.

The feature on the Parker case. The very case that was rapidly spiraling into chaos.

“He can’t be this arrogant.” I shook my head.

“Seems he is. We’ve been through tough situations, but this is on another scale. This witness was our best shot. And now…”

“And now we’re left with a crime scene straight out of a twisted butcher’s shop,” I finished for her. “Parker wanted to make sure we got the memo.”

The victim was an elite escort, serving men who lived above consequences. A woman who was reckless enough to think she could take down one of the most powerful of them.

Senator Thomas Parker. The golden boy of politics.

His public image? Squeaky clean. But behind the polished smile, he was a monster with his hands covered in blood.

Parker had mafia ties that ran deep, and if these bloodstains were any indication, he took the term ‘cutthroat politician’ to a whole new level.

“He believes this will actually stop us?”

“Probably, but he’s dead wrong,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. Because let’s be honest—this kind of warning was never just a warning.

This woman didn’t deserve this. She’d taken a risk bringing the prosecution information, and now it was on us to make sure it didn’t die with her.

At first, getting involved in the case had been a golden ticket.

The kind of high-stakes prosecution that could lock in my future, pry open doors that usually stayed bolted shut—a defining moment in my career.

Even if I had to play second fiddle while Michael, the District Attorney, took the credit, I told myself it was worth it.

But the deeper I got, the uglier it became.

What started as a career-maker was beginning to look more like a death wish.

Being front and center wouldn’t just put a target on my back—it would turn me into a flashing beacon, impossible to ignore.

Staying in the background wasn’t just the smart move.

It meant keeping my name out of the headlines.

It meant keeping Jake, my son, out of sight.

And as far as I was concerned, that was the only thing that really mattered.

I opened the victim’s calendar photos and scanned through her recent appointments, and my stomach dropped.

For most people, it would have been just another name on the paper. But I’d dug deep enough into their dealings to instantly know who he was—an Abruzzo family Capo. It wasn’t the first time their name had come up in a case, but never someone this high up the food chain .

Chrissy tilted her head slightly, eyeing me with a knowing look. “You’re twisting that blonde curl like you’re trying to strangle it. Want to tell me what’s wrong?”

I didn’t even realize I was fidgeting—of course, my best friend did. She had always been like that—tuned in, quick to notice if there was something I wasn’t ready to say out loud. From the moment we met in law school, she had this way of reading me.

And right now, as her gaze locked onto me, I had no doubt she was already sure we had a problem.

With a sharp exhale, I tapped the name. “A Capo.”

She stilled. “Shit.”

I paced the room and forced myself to take steady breaths, but it was impossible to ignore the rising panic. My heart hammered against my ribs, my dress tightening with every step like a trap. I stopped by the window, staring at the skyline.

Tampa is a huge city, and he is just a Capo. Maybe it doesn’t mean much, maybe there is no real reason to worry. Maybe if I keep telling myself that, it will become true.

But the knot in my stomach only tightened. Because no matter how much I tried to ignore it over the years, deep down, I knew this day would come. I had just hoped it would be later—or better yet, never.

When I turned back, her eyes met mine.

“Pull out of the case?”

Her voice was careful, but the weight of the question hung between us.

“Until we are not sure that he isn’t just a name on the list, not a chance.”

Backing down now would be career suicide—and worse, it would mean letting Parker get away with it. My mind was racing, the consequences piling up as quickly as the complications.

“But I’ll need to be careful. If Luca gets even a whiff that… ”

“Izzy,” she cut in. “I’ve got your back. Whatever it takes.”

“I know. But I can’t keep this to myself. Michael needs to know about the connection—and soon. If I hold back, it could blow up in my face. He has to hear it from me before it’s too late.”

Chrissy nodded. “Agreed. I can go with you if you want.”

I rubbed my temples with a sigh. “No. I need time to think it over first.”

“Thinking it over… Meaning you’ll pace around your living room and drive yourself insane before you actually do anything?”

I gave her a look.

She grinned. “Jake’s out of town with your mom. How about we skip the spiral and grab a drink instead?”

“Funny you mention that… I already made a reservation at Eden.”

“You serious?”

“Of course. It’s my responsibility to get you properly drunk on your birthday.”

“So, you’re gonna wrap this up and head home to get yourself ready?”

“Definitely.”

I closed my laptop and reached for my bag.

There were things I needed to say to Michael. Things I couldn’t avoid. But pretending like I still had time before the fallout seemed a healthy coping strategy.

? ? ?

Oversized chandeliers scattered neon light across the dance floor, where bodies moved in sync with the pounding bass. Deep purple and blue decor blended seamlessly with the velvet seating areas along the walls, each one roped off with sleek chrome stanchions.

“How the hell did you get a table here? ”

“I made a few calls,” I said with a shrug. It sounded casual, despite how much I hated asking for favors.

Chrissy blinked at me. “You mean you actually used your connections for something fun? I think I might faint.”

A hostess appeared, giving us a forced smile. “Ladies, I’m really sorry. There was a confusion with your booking. But we offer you something even better.”

“Better?”

She nodded, her smile growing. “The manager wanted to make sure your night was special, not ruined. We’ve upgraded your table to our best spot in the VIP section—more privacy, a perfect view of the dance floor, and a complimentary drink on the house. No extra charge, of course.”

Extra perks? Not what I expected, but I wasn’t about to complain.

“That’s… perfect,” I smiled back.

She nodded again and led us to a corner booth. The table was already set with a bucket of champagne and glasses—the kind of detail that screamed, you’ve arrived .

Chrissy slid in first, still shaking her head. “I can’t believe you made it happen.”

I laughed and sat beside her, my black mini dress turning it into more of a calculated drop than anything graceful.

“Don’t get used to it. This is a one-time thing,” I said, adjusting the hem with a pull before raising my glass. “To a drama-free night.”

“Cheers to that.”

She took a sip and leaned closer. “So… is Kevin bringing his hot friend tonight?”

Yeah, Kevin. Here we go. This was the topic I avoided like plague all day.

“Well… No, and Kevin’s not coming either. I kicked him out.”

Chrissy froze with her drink halfway to her mouth. “You what? ”

“Kicked him out!”

She blinked, then grinned. “Oh, this I have to hear. What happened?”

I didn’t answer, just rolled my eyes.

“Fine, Kevin’s gone, whatever. But please tell me you at least fucked him before you cut him loose.”

I choked on my drink. “Chrissy!”

“What? He was hot!” she exclaimed, gesturing wildly. “Like, actual ‘walks into a room and makes people forget their own names’ hot. You had that for seven weeks and didn’t even test drive?”

“No,” I said flatly.

“Seven. Weeks. Isabelle. That’s a felony.”

“Oh, relax. He wasn’t right for me.”