Page 16 of Entwined Lies (Entwined #1)

He rose, grabbed my glass, but hesitated, palm flat on the table. His eyes stuck to the glass a moment too long before he moved.

When he returned, I jumped in fast. “You’re seriously good at this. Like, annoying levels of good.”

“Well, I do have layers. Not just a pretty face, you know.”

I rolled my eyes, but the banter tugged a genuine smile out of me. “Don’t let it go to your head, Abruzzo. You might be decent in the kitchen, but it doesn’t exactly erase all the other stuff.”

“Ah, so I’m ‘decent’ now?” He raised a brow. “We both know I set the bar higher than that.”

“Maybe with pasta.”

“Pasta, negotiations, organized chaos… I aim to impress.”

I shook my head, laughing despite myself. “Is this you trying to get on my good side?”

“Depends. Is it working?”

For a beat, I couldn’t speak. I looked back at my plate, trying to act normal. Whatever this was between us, it was real enough to scare me and harder to ignore than I wanted to admit.

After cleaning up, we went to bed. His steps echoed close behind me, too steady for how badly my nerves were unraveling.

I stopped at the master bedroom, staring at the bed like it was some kind of sick joke.

The sheer craziness of where I found myself hit me like a slap once again.

Sharing a bed with Luca Abruzzo? This had officially entered the twilight zone of bad decisions.

The previous evening had been a blur—I’d passed out almost immediately, and when I woke up, he was already gone, sparing me the awkwardness of confronting my new reality. But now, with him right there, fully awake and fully… him, it was a lot more real. Too real.

I fumbled for logic, anything to make this make sense.

“Your staff’s the only ones who’d know we’re not sleeping together. ”

He rested against the doorframe, arms crossed like he had nothing but time. “Exactly the point. Even my men shouldn’t know we’re faking it. We’re newlyweds. People would expect us to fuck like rabbits. Not sharing a bedroom would raise questions.”

His tone was casual, completely free of any hidden meaning or suggestive intent, yet my cheeks flushed anyway.

Perfect. Out of everything to blush over, it had to be this.

“So, what? You think we should just pretend to be all over each other when no one’s watching?”

“Definitely not. But if my housekeeper, or anyone else for that matter, sees us slipping off to separate rooms, they’ll start wondering why. And when people start wondering, they start talking. We can’t afford that right now.”

Every bone in my body wanted to argue, but I didn’t have it in me.

“Fine.”

I grabbed my stuff and fled into the bathroom.

Like everything else in Luca’s life, it was dark, refined, and meticulously put together.

Slate-gray walls, matte black fixtures—the whole room breathed quiet, effortless wealth.

The shower was all clean lines and glass; the tub was low and sharp-edged, practically a piece of art.

It was stunning. Shame my brain didn’t care.

I stripped off my clothes and stepped under the water, hoping it would settle me. For a moment, it almost worked, almost drowned out the nerves crawling under my skin. But the mist and the silence only made it worse.

I dried off, threw on my clothes, and brushed my teeth with shaking hands.

It’s just sleeping , I reminded myself, gripping the sink and looking at the version of me that looked two seconds from running.

When I pushed the door open, Luca’s eyes lifted—barely—but I caught it .

My tank top and shorts covered enough. They always had. But under his gaze, they might as well have been nothing. And maybe I liked it a little too much.

Jesus.

I barely resisted rolling my eyes at myself.

Since when did it matter that he was… looking?

Since when did I want him to keep looking?

I crossed to the dresser, grabbed the first thing I saw—hand cream—and started rubbing it in with frantic hands.

“I’m finished,” I managed to say, voice tighter than it should’ve been.

Rub. Focus. Breathe.

He walked into the bathroom.

I threw myself into the bed, shifted, kicked the covers off, then pulled them back on. Couldn’t get comfortable.

The mattress was perfect. I wasn’t.

When the shower cut off and the door opened, I glanced up. Because clearly, I enjoyed torturing myself.

His body was impossible to ignore—all hard muscle and smooth, tan skin glistening from the shower, with beads of water tracing a path down that ridiculous chest. His wet, messy hair only added to the effect, and the towel hung so dangerously low on his hips that every step seemed to test gravity.

I remembered every inch of him, knew exactly what he looked like without that towel—but my recollection didn’t hold a candle to reality.

This is fine. Totally fine. Just a regular guy in a towel, no big deal.

I fixed my gaze on the ceiling as he strode across the room and into the closet. Lying perfectly still, I pretended I wasn’t listening to every quiet sound he made.

Then I heard it—a soft rustle, a quiet drop.

Before I could tell myself no, I looked at the mirror .

And there it was—the kind of view you can’t unsee.

Luca. Naked.

Reaching for the boxer briefs, every move unhurried, easy, unfairly confident.

I bit my lip, my heart tripping hard over itself. I should’ve turned away. I didn’t.

Instead, I watched.

He caught my stare, and the grin that followed made breathing feel optional.

Fuck.

I ripped my eyes away, feeling my whole body flush while still watching him from the corner of my eye.

“That look on your face? I could stand here all night if it means you keep looking at me like this.”

“I was just… gathering my thoughts,” I said, my face on fire.

“Looks like you have a lot to gather.” He pulled on his briefs, adjusting them slowly. “Want to share?”

“Nope.”

He gave a soft, deep laugh, yanking the shirt into place before climbing into bed, the dip pulling me a little closer.

I zeroed in on the stitches of the comforter as if they held the meaning of life, and bit the inside of my cheek. But it was pointless. He smelled so good that every breath felt dangerous.

“Comfortable?” he asked, voice way too easy, like this was the most natural thing in the world.

Maybe it was—to him. Meanwhile, I was one deep breath away from spontaneously combusting.

“I’m fine.”

I tugged the comforter higher, as if a few extra inches of fabric could put some space between us. Apparently, a blanket was the best defense I had right now .

Luca leaned back against the pillows, stretching out with that infuriating confidence, before reaching over to turn off the light.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Luca.” My voice was quieter now, almost hesitant.

The room fell silent, but sleep was elusive.

I forced my eyes shut, trying to erase the thought of him lying there beside me.

Luca was dangerous, the kind of man who thrived in the shadows, the exact kind of criminal I’d spent my career fighting to put away.

I should’ve hated him. I should’ve feared him.

But here I was, painfully aware of every breath he took, each small shift of the bed.

I kept reminding myself: he wasn’t a man I could trust. He was someone who could destroy me, who had pulled me into his world without a second thought.

He was a problem, not a temptation. But instead of feeling hatred, there was this strange pull—something that shouldn’t be there at all.

The thought alone made my stomach twist with anger.

Why did my self-control falter every time he was near?

Keeping men away had always been second nature, but Luca turned my resolve to dust.