Page 12 of Entwined Lies (Entwined #1)

Isabelle

I was halfway out the door when Luca called after me, “One more thing, Siren.”

Siren? Really?

I spun, my glare sharp enough to draw blood.

One look at that cocky grin and I was a bad impulse away from throwing my shoe at his perfect face. The satisfaction would be priceless—but common sense tugged me back. Sure, it might be worth it, but did I really want to find out what he’d do after? Probably not.

He gestured behind me, and a man appeared—dark hair, cutting blue eyes, sizing me up like a problem to solve.

“This is Enzo. He’ll help you move in. He’ll drive you home and be at your disposal for the time being.”

I gave Luca a glance. “It’s not necessary.”

“Not negotiable.”

“So now I just have to live with a full-time shadow?”

“If it keeps you breathing, then yes.”

He looked past me to Enzo. “Make sure she’s covered. I don’t want anything slipping past you.”

Enzo’s grin said he was enjoying himself a little too much.

“I’ll try not to be a pain in your ass, Mrs. Abruzzo.”

“Just Isabelle,” I snapped and swallowed down about ten thousand swear words .

He didn’t even blink at my attitude. Just nodded like the good little Luca puppet he was.

I flicked my eyes to Chrissy, who stood behind Enzo in the doorway.

Her mouth was tight, her eyes wide, panic written all over her. The silent message hit loud and clear: WHAT. THE. FUCK. ISABELLE? She opened her mouth, probably to voice that very question, but one steely look from Luca snapped it shut.

Enzo followed us out, his quiet steps and steady presence at our backs grating against my last nerve.

A black Range Rover waited by the front door, as if this whole surreal scene had been planned down to the second.

He opened the car door with that infuriating calm, and I glared at him with enough heat to set him on fire.

Chrissy slid into the passenger seat beside me with an eye roll, but she didn’t dare ask questions—not with Enzo looming right there.

I stared out the window, my fists clenched tight as my thoughts spiraled out of control, stacking up like evidence in a losing case. How did I go from leading the DA’s office to being forced into a mob marriage overnight? This was beyond grotesque.

Enzo started the car and caught my eye in the mirror. He was clocking me—no question. Probably checking if I was about to make a run for it. As if I’d be that lucky.

I leaned forward and broke the silence. “What does ‘at my disposal’ actually cover?”

“Making sure you’re comfortable—and not dead. Basic stuff.”

I scoffed. “So… my new babysitter?”

He turned back; one corner of his mouth twitched, almost breaking into a smile. “Close enough. But I’m here to keep you safe as the wife of a high-ranking family member, not to interfere more than necessary.”

How considerate.

Beside me, Chrissy shook her head, still in shock. “This is surreal. I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

I gave her a bitter smile. “Believe it. Welcome to my new life.”

The world felt like it stopped spinning inside that car. Everything frozen. Everything but my own spiraling thoughts. There I was—stuck between Luca, the goddamn mafia, and my own absolutely genius-level decisions.

When we finally stopped outside my house, all I could do was stare straight ahead and pretend I wasn’t crumbling inside.

Enzo stepped out first. He walked over to the agents, said a couple of words, and—wow—suddenly those stone-cold faces softened, even cracked smiles.

Not just a bodyguard. That much was clear.

Once inside, I hit the living room and just kept pacing, my head swimming with questions I wasn’t ready to hear the answers to.

Jake would be with Mom for longer than planned—I’d made sure of that before meeting Luca, buying myself a little time. At least he would stay in the dark.

But explaining this to her? That was a different beast altogether.

Mom, remember Jake’s dad, the one who turned out to be a big-deal crime lord? Well, he drugged me and married me.

Yeah, I was nowhere near ready to have that talk. I knew I couldn’t avoid it forever. But today wasn’t the day.

I went into the kitchen, yanked the cabinet door open, and grabbed the first bottle of wine that touched my hand. At least I was well-stocked in this department.

The cork hit the counter with a satisfying thunk, and I didn’t bother checking the label before pouring myself a glass that matched the size of the problem. I filled a second one without thinking and set it on the counter in front of Chrissy.

With a silent understanding, we disappeared into the bedroom.

As we started packing, I went over all the absurd details.

Her expressions turned from shock to full-on rage, and then to something dangerously close to determination, as if she was ready to take out Luca herself.

One glass led to another, and sorting through my things became an excuse to drink and let the madness sink in.

“I could straight-up murder him. Wouldn’t even blink,” I muttered, pacing the room, clutching my wine like a lifeline.

Chrissy kicked her shoes off and flopped onto my bed. “Don’t get me wrong, but it could be worse.”

“How?”

“Look, at least he’s hot. And not just normal hot—offensively hot. The kind of hot that ruins your life and makes you say thank you for the privilege.”

I just stared at her for a moment before answering.

“You get he ruined my life, right?”

“Yes, but you could take advantage of the situation. You’re forced into this, why not make the best of it? And, oh yeah, you’ve definitely admitted he fucks like a god.”

“It’s a terrible idea, and I never said ‘like a god.’”

Chrissy’s smirk grew to downright evil proportions. “Oh, you absolutely did. Let me remind you of your greatest hits: ‘Fucks like a god,’ ‘His mouth should be illegal,’ and, my personal favorite, ‘Walking orgasm factory.’”

Damn it. That did sound familiar.

Chrissy pointed her glass at me like it was a weapon. “You have a fake husband who could model for GQ, and you’re acting like you’re in a long-distance relationship with Jesus. I’m honestly impressed. In a ‘what the hell is wrong with you’ kind of way. ”

I dragged a hand down my face. “Why do I even tell you anything?”

“Because you secretly want me to talk some sense into you.”

“Oh, for God’s sake. That’s not part of the arrangement.”

“Fine, Saint Isabelle, stay on your moral high horse,” she said with a dramatic sigh.

“But if you’re not going to touch the man, you better be charging that vibrator like it’s a life support machine—because it is.

And when it inevitably dies—and trust me, it will —you’re screwed.

Literally, you’ll need to be screwed. So do yourself a favor and stock up… Buy a multipack.”

That did it. We both burst into laughter.

From the doorway, Enzo let out a low chuckle.

Jesus Christ.

I whipped around, mortified.

I’d completely forgotten he was there, well within earshot. The embarrassment crept up my neck like a heatwave.

“Glad we’re so entertaining,” I muttered and drained my glass before reaching straight for the bottle. Blacking out was starting to look like a solid plan.

“You have no idea.” Enzo gave a smug smile.

Chrissy rolled her eyes and turned to him. “Good. Then you just stand there, look pretty, and let us cope with this disaster however we see fit.”

I snorted, the tension easing a bit. At least Chrissy was there to chew out the mafia on my behalf.

We finished packing the last of my things—slowed and a bit careless from the wine.

Enzo took my bags to the car, but I stopped in the hallway, my gaze drifting over the walls where Jake’s photos had been.

Chrissy had rushed to pull them down the moment we’d arrived, making sure Enzo wouldn’t catch even a glimpse of him.

Now, the walls were bare, empty, and somehow cold.

It was strange—the place was different already, like this part of my life was fading away before I’d even stepped out the door.

This was it. The point where choices ended and consequences began.

After dropping off Chrissy, we headed to Luca’s.

By the time Enzo pulled up outside his place, the alcohol had fully kicked in—buzzing hot through my veins, fueling every ounce of pent-up rage I’d had way too much time to stew in. My frustration wasn’t just boiling over; it was ready to burn the whole damn house down.

I didn’t wait for Enzo to get out and open the door. Screw that.

I threw it open and climbed out, a little unsteady, but I found my balance quick enough. The gravel cracked under my sneakers with every stomp toward the door.

Enzo said something behind me—maybe a curse, maybe a plea—but I didn’t care. I shoved the front door open, adrenaline buzzing under my skin, and there was the devil, relaxed, phone to his ear like he hadn’t just set my whole world on fire.

His shirt hung untucked, open enough at the top that one quick glance stole the breath straight out of me. He looked so good it made my hands ache to strangle him.

Luca ended his call and slid his phone into his pocket.

I crossed the room with what I hoped passed for steady steps. The alcohol was working overtime to make sure it didn’t.

I pointed a finger at him. “This is all your fault.”

He gave me a slow, smug once-over, one brow lifting. “Good evening to you, too, Siren.”

“Don’t you ‘good evening’ me and don’t call me Siren. You think trapping me in marriage is some genius solution? Like, I should be thrilled about it? ”

The cocky smile faded as he stepped closer. “Thrilled? No. Alive? Absolutely… This was necessary.”

“Necessary?” I laughed, though it came out strangled. “I have a son, a career, a life I actually liked, and then you come storming in, fucking up everything in the name of… what? Protecting me?”

He edged closer, voice low and steady. “It was either this or a coffin. I chose the lesser evil.”

I faltered for a moment and stepped back.

Coffin? Fine, maybe that was a valid excuse, but still.

“That doesn’t give you the right to take control of my life,” I said with less bite than I intended.

I forced myself to look anywhere but his eyes—only to end up staring right at his chest. Damn that shirt.

It clung to all the places I had no business noticing right now.

The fabric tugged just enough across his chest to make my pulse kick, like it didn’t give a damn whose side it was supposed to be on.

I swallowed, feeling the heat flare up my neck and break across my face.

Get it together. He’s the enemy, I told myself. But my body wasn’t interested in strategy. It was interested in him. And it just threw gasoline on the fire inside me.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with a long sigh. “We’re not getting anywhere like this. We’ll talk when you’ve sobered up.”

“Oh, it’s the perfect time. You kicked the world out from under me. You don’t get to walk away now.”

He clenched his jaw so tight I could see the muscle jump before he took a slow, calculated step closer.

I shuffled back, only to find the wall blocking me in.

He braced his hand beside my head, his voice soft and dangerous. “You don’t survive this without me, Siren. I’m the only thing standing between you and a bullet. ”

His eyes locked me in place as he leaned closer, the heat of him rolling off in waves that made thinking almost impossible. There was barely any space left between us, just enough for me to realize how easy it would be to—.

My eyes dropped to his mouth.

He caught it instantly, and the slow curve of his lips said he knew exactly what I was thinking. Maybe because he did the same—his eyes flicked down, lingering on my mouth before finally dragging back up to mine.

“By the way you’re looking at me, I’d say you’re done fighting.”

“Dream on. Your ridiculously handsome face and that stupid hot body don’t do a damn thing to me.”

Oh, hell. That was not supposed to come out.

“So we’re saying the quiet parts out loud now?” he asked, mouth pulling into a slow, dangerous grin. “Because if we are, I was just thinking about all the better things that mouth could be doing right now.”

I stood there blinking at him, brain empty, heart pounding.

He smirked and stepped back like the moment had never happened. “Alright. Follow me. Our room is this way.”

The fog cleared in an instant, like cold water dumped over my head.

“Our room? Nope. I don’t sleep next to you.” I crossed my arms and rooted myself into the floor.

He gave a dry laugh. “Trust me, the feeling’s mutual. But unless you want everyone to know this is a sham, sharing a room is the smart play.”

“Oh, so now you’re suddenly concerned with what people think. Convenient.”

“It’s called survival. And right now, blending in keeps you alive.”

If glaring could kill, Luca would be a chalk outline, but he didn’t give a damn. He started up the staircase like there was no question I’d follow.

Grinding my teeth so hard it hurt, I shoved every curse back down and followed him up the stairs.

At the bedroom, he pushed the door open without a word and stepped aside.

The room was massive, sleek, way too perfect for real life—exactly what I’d expected.

What I hadn’t expected were my suitcases already waiting for me, neatly set by the closet.

Maybe I’d been too mad to notice Enzo hauling them in behind me.

Or maybe I’d been too busy drooling over Luca like an idiot.

My gaze shifted, landing on the king-sized bed draped in dark, expensive linens. The same kind he had in Sicily.

A tight knot formed in my chest.

Exactly what I needed—another glaring reminder of what had already happened between us and how dangerously easy it would be to cross a line I had no intention of crossing.

“I assume you’ll be sleeping on the couch?” I half-joked, hoping, praying, that this wouldn’t turn into the train wreck I could already feel coming.

“I don’t think so. I don’t do couches, and sure as hell don’t intend to let you forget who’s in charge here. But relax… I’ll be a perfect fucking gentleman.”

He held my gaze a beat longer before heading to the door.

“Sleep well, Siren.”

I sank onto the bed, the tension still buzzing under my skin. I’d been so close to losing control, to doing things I’d sworn I wouldn’t do. And I hadn’t even been the one to pull back—he had.

As I sat there, staring at the ceiling, I told myself it was the wine. Because if it wasn’t… then I was in far more trouble than I wanted to admit.