Page 15 of Entwined Lies (Entwined #1)

Isabelle

I headed straight for the kitchen as soon as we got home. I needed space—to think, to breathe, and to stay the hell away from Luca for at least five minutes. Work first, feelings later—preferably much later.

My brain was in overdrive, a checklist a mile long, and I wasn’t about to sit around.

I dropped my bag on the counter with a thud and yanked out my laptop. Work was something I could control. Unlike the rest of my life, which was like a never-ending trial with no closing arguments in sight.

As the screen lit the darkening kitchen, I blocked out Luca and Enzo’s footsteps in the background, zeroing in on the task in front of me.

Parker’s connections, his financials, his every move—I needed to find something, anything, that would bring this mess to an end.

The sooner I could untangle myself from all of this, the sooner Jake and I could get back to something that resembled a life.

But even as I focused on work, the tension in my shoulders refused to ease. Because obviously, I wasn’t allowed a moment’s peace. The pressure of this whole situation never really let up.

I hadn’t known what to expect walking into Luca’s world, meeting his team for the first time.

Part of me had been braced for a group just as menacing as he was.

Instead, they came off… normal. All except for Ni na.

She carried this chill with her that was impossible to miss, but even with that, she didn’t seem fake.

I knew right away we wouldn’t be close, but trust?

Trust was possible. Still, I couldn’t afford to waste time overthinking it.

That name I’d come across was still burning in my brain, and if there was anything useful tied to it, I was going to find it.

Luca’s shadow at the door was almost easy to ignore while I scrolled through my files.

But when he moved into the kitchen and turned on the light, his presence was no longer something I could brush aside.

The sounds of chopping and a pan being placed on the stove broke my concentration. Is he cooking?

I kept my eyes on the screen, but eventually my curiosity won out. “What are you doing?”

“Even the antagonist has to eat.”

I let out a reluctant laugh. “Somehow, I didn’t peg you as the type to cook. More like the one who’s always had a live-in chef.”

“Not always, but most times,” he said, glancing my way before dropping garlic into the pan.

The smell hit me quickly—savory, rich, and mouthwatering, with fresh basil cutting through it. I tried to focus on work, but it was impossible to ignore the practiced ease of his movements.

He threw in a handful of eggplant, and the sizzle broke the silence.

Leaning back, I crossed my arms, smiling. “So… what’s the story? Mafia boss by day, secret chef by night?”

Still stirring, the corner of his lips curled up, but he didn’t look at me. “Let’s just say I’ve learned a few things along the way.”

I rolled my eyes but got up anyway, drawn in without meaning to. “Yeah, nothing says ‘Mafia kingpin’ like homemade marinara.”

He gave a soft laugh and shook his head slightly.

The kitchen relaxed into that kind of quiet that you don’t notice until it’s wrapped around you .

When the sauce darkened to that deep red and the scent shifted—richer, fuller—he dipped the spoon in and held it out to me.

“Taste”

I paused briefly, then leaned forward and took a small sip. The flavor hit my tongue, rich and perfectly balanced with just a hint of heat.

“Okay… that’s actually good.”

“High praise. Should I frame it or just tattoo it somewhere?” he asked, a full smirk in place.

“Go ahead. I’ll bring the needle.” I let out a laugh. “When did you learn to cook like that?”

Luca’s smirk faded to something softer. “We always had a chef growing up. But my mother was stubborn—she said that my brothers and I needed to know how to cook the basics ourselves. She insisted. My father hated the idea, thought it was unnecessary, but she had a way of getting even the old man to agree to things he claimed he couldn’t stand.

” He looked down, his voice quieter now.

“I think… that’s why I’m still cooking. It’s the last thing of her I still get to keep close. ”

There was a crack in his voice, barely there but enough to make me still. I had no words, not for this version of him. He wasn’t bulletproof right now. He was just… human. And for a moment, there was no mob boss, no forced marriage, just two people sharing a memory over a simmering pot.

I wanted to dig deeper, but didn’t want to cross a line. So I offered a piece of my own history instead.

“My father was the last one to cook this for me.”

“So he liked taking care of you.”

I smiled, the memory flooding back with bittersweet clarity.

“He did. Simple things, mostly, but he had this way of making even pasta feel special. He used to say it was all about the love you put in, how every dish could hold memories if you let it. ”

Luca nodded, as though he knew exactly what I meant. “My mother used to say, ‘The food you make with love becomes part of their story.’ She said it was her way of taking care of us, even when she couldn’t protect us from everything else.”

“So, why pasta alla Norma?”

“You told me it was a favorite.”

“I really thought you wouldn’t remember a thing.”

Luca’s gaze didn’t waver, that smug expression ghosting back. “You’re harder to forget than you think.”

He scooped a generous pile of pasta onto a plate with practiced ease, the sauce steaming as it settled. He set it in front of me without a word, then served himself.

We sat next to each other at the kitchen island, sharing a quiet moment that was oddly… comfortable.

Luca took a bite, watching me expectantly. “Well? Did we do it justice?”

I tasted it, savoring the balance of flavors.

“It’s… really good. You’d make your mom proud.”

“Guess that’s all I can hope for.”

Silence crept back between us. He ate slowly, his brow drawing tight, his thoughts clearly far away.

My fingers hovered over the table as the question edged closer, louder than ever.

I’d buried it, ignored it, even convinced myself it didn’t matter.

But every moment I spent with Luca, it clawed its way up again, demanding answers.

Part of me begged to leave it alone. But the part that had taken every precaution to keep Jake safe needed to know. Because I couldn’t afford not to.

Looking up, I found his eyes waiting for me. I pulled in a slow breath, bracing for whatever his answer might drag into the light—about him and about all the reasons I’d fought to keep Jake hidden.

“Can I ask you something? ”

“Go ahead.”

“What was it like… growing up in the family ?”

“You mean, being born into it?”

I nodded, wondering if he’d give me something real—or if I was about to hit a dead end.

“My father raised us to survive. That was always the priority. Survival, strength, loyalty. Emotions were distractions, luxuries we couldn’t afford. The old man taught us to be calculating, to see every choice as a move on a chessboard. Even as a kid, nothing was simple.”

“Did you ever… did you ever get a break from it? A chance to just be a kid?”

“No. Not really. There were moments, I guess, when it almost felt normal. But the pressure—the expectation—was always there. To him, I was never just the kid he raised. I was his successor. That came with certain… demands.”

My hand fell still, my eyes lingering on him a moment longer. “That sounds… lonely.”

“Lonely? Maybe. But that’s just how it was. You don’t question it. You don’t fight it. You adapt.”

“Did you ever want anything different?”

He froze, as if the question struck a place he didn’t usually allow anyone to see. For a blink, something raw crossed his face—and just like that, it was gone.

“Wanting things you can’t have… that’s a weakness. And weakness has no place in this life.” He spoke the words like he’d repeated them to himself a thousand times.

I shouldn’t have seen him as anything more than the ruthless criminal I needed to keep far from Jake, the man who had thrown my life into chaos.

But here he was, not just a part of that world he’d been raised in, but a person beneath it all, layered and complicated.

And seeing that made everything harder .

We ate in near silence, only the sounds of silverware between us.

“What’s it like… having a kid?” he asked finally.

I swallowed, knowing every answer came with a risk. The truth about Jake was a line I couldn’t afford to cross with him.

“It’s… complicated. Rewarding, challenging. You worry about everything, but you love every second of it. Even when it drives you crazy.”

Luca watched me carefully, studying each word, each expression, and it filled me with unease. He was too perceptive, too skilled at reading people. But I couldn’t let him see too deeply, couldn’t let him even guess at the truth.

“Sounds exhausting.”

“It is. It’s a lot. But worth every bit,” I forced a small smile. “Watching them grow, seeing who they become—it’s the best thing.”

I kept my tone natural, maybe even light, though inside, a familiar twinge of guilt twisted.

I’d kept Jake from him all these years, convincing myself it was the right choice—for Jake, for his safety, for his future.

And now, knowing more about the world Luca came from, I was more certain than ever.

Jake deserved better than the shadows of Luca’s life.

But despite the justifications, I couldn’t deny what I’d taken from him.

He was Jake’s father, and though I’d reasoned away every doubt, there was a small sting of regret.

If he knew, would he even understand why I’d done it?

I pushed down the thought and kept my smile in place.

Luca nodded slowly, but there was an interest in his eyes that unnerved me.

“And you… you did all of it by yourself?”

The question hit places I didn’t like touching, and I scrambled for something light.

“Yeah. Stubbornness can be a survival skill.”