Page 23 of Entwined Lies (Entwined #1)

But Luca was watching, his gaze expectant, and I forced myself to nod. I could only hope that somehow, this trap wouldn’t snap on Tony. And if it did, I wouldn’t be the one signing his fate.

“You know, if you screw it up at the gala, you’re dragging all of us down with you.” His voice carried that edge, half command, half insult.

I froze, fingers locked in place over the keyboard. As if I weren’t already haunted by the possibility. My blood boiled. Who the hell did he think he was to talk to me like that?

I glared at him. “Motivational speaker isn’t in your future, in case you were wondering. ”

“Good thing I’m not looking for a career change. Both the Tony situation and your role at the gala are crucial. And this isn’t some courtroom where you can argue your way out.”

“Believe me, I understand perfectly. And I don’t need you questioning my ability to handle this.”

“I’m not questioning your ability. I just need to know you’re fully committed.”

I straightened, jaw tight, locking eyes with him.

“The sooner this ends, the sooner I’m free.

So yeah, I’m committed. But maybe you should worry about yourself too.

You can fuck it up just as much as I can—and if this sinks, we both go under.

And I never agreed to be the one keeping you above water. ”

For a moment, he just stared at me, his face giving away nothing, but the anger burning between us thick enough to choke on.

Then he turned and walked away without another word, leaving me sitting there, my fists aching with the need to hit something.

Because Luca’s words? They’d hit dead center.

But I wasn’t about to hand him the satisfaction of seeing that.

If he thought I was going to break, he’d have to wait until hell froze over—or at least until after the gala.

I had my own part to play, and I wasn’t going to let him—or anyone else—question my commitment again.

I took a long breath, fighting the storm clawing at my insides.

This wasn’t the moment to lose it. We had a job to do, and I needed my mind sharp.

But his words lingered, echoing as I pored over the plans of Parker’s estate.

This gala was our best shot at the evidence we needed, and I wasn’t letting anything, least of all Luca, distract me from that.

Luca was gone for most of the day. He didn’t come back until I was already in bed, flipping through case reports and emails from the DA’s office .

The door shut with a soft click, and his voice filled the room, cool and absolute: “We’re going to the gala together. Sure, people will talk about us, but they’re easier to handle than something going wrong.”

I looked up from my laptop, narrowing my eyes at him. “Together? And what, play the happy couple?”

“Something like that.” A lazy smirk pulled at his lips. “No one’s gonna blink if we disappear together. They’ll just assume we want a little privacy.”

I pushed my laptop away, sitting straighter in the middle of the bed. The idea of playing a role with Luca, of acting like I was more than a reluctant ally in this mess, felt like a twisted joke.

“And what if I’m not so good at pretending?”

His smirk deepened. “You were plenty convincing last night getting under my skin. Call it method acting.”

I was still mad and couldn’t resist the urge to provoke him.

“Maybe I wasn’t pretending. Maybe I was ready for that guy to take me home, just to escape your charming company.”

The smug expression dropped off his face. His jaw locked, a flash of something sharp lighting his eyes.

For half a second, I thought I’d finally pushed him too far. But all he did was lean in, close enough that my next breath was tangled up in his.

“Careful. I know what you’re doing. You’re testing how far you can push me, how much you can get away with. But you’re playing a dangerous game.”

“And if I do test you? What are you gonna do about it?”

Luca didn’t waste a breath. One moment I was teasing him, the next I was flat on my back, wrists pinned, his body holding me down with no space left between us.

Shock hit first, but defiance followed quickly on its heels. Maybe I wasn’t proud of every choice. But this one? No regrets .

“Don’t. Fucking. Test me,” he growled, his face inches from mine. “You’re my wife. And if someone touches what’s mine, I’ll tear their fucking throat out.”

“There are some things a marriage license doesn’t grant you. Certain things you have to earn.” As if to punctuate my point, I pushed my hips forward.

Luca’s eyes flashed, something raw and unguarded. His grip tightened, his breathing matched mine, heavy and charged.

For one stretched-out second, we just stared at each other.

“You think this is a fucking game?” His voice was pure warning. “You have no idea who you’re playing with.”

Every instinct screamed at me to back down.

I didn’t.

I lifted my chin, fake-calm, fake-brave, as if it would save me.

“Maybe I do.”

He didn’t loosen his grip, not even a little, but his face shifted, the fury burning out just enough for something more dangerous to slip in. Time froze between us, breath hot and ragged, his body hard against mine.

“Don’t play with me, because I promise, I don’t play fair.”

His words made my skin flush. But it was the touch that followed that tore the air from my lungs.

His fingers stayed around my wrists, holding me there. His other hand skimmed down my body, brushing my collarbone, tracing my side, following every stupid little shiver he caused. Finally, he slid it up my inner thigh, stopping just under the hem of my shorts.

“Luca…” I gasped out, my hips tilting toward him without a second thought, helpless against the pull.

His hand slipped under my shorts, fingertips skating over bare skin—and the second he figured out there was nothing else there, he made this low, filthy sound that shot straight through me. His grip tightened, rough and sure, and that grin he gave me? Dark enough to make me shiver.

“Still feel like playing games with me, Siren?” he rasped, dragging his fingers slow enough to make me want to cry, every featherlight touch sending sparks under my skin.

I parted my lips, tried to find the words, but they stuck somewhere deep in my throat, lost under the weight of his touch. Every slow stroke of his fingers sent another coherent thought spiraling away.

A broken breath slipped from me as my body arched, chasing his touch without shame.

He saw it. Loved it. That smug, filthy grin spread across his face as he pressed down just enough to make me whimper, but not enough to give me what I needed. He dragged it out, teasing, owning every second of my undoing.

“Please,” I gasped, hips jerking forward, chasing his touch like I had no shame left.

He pulled his hand back, his other one still pinning my wrists tight. “Begging already? What happened to all that attitude?”

Then, without warning, he slid two fingers deep, his palm grinding against my clit—but he stayed still, cruel, making me feel every second stretch and drag.

“Luca, don’t—” I tried, the words breaking apart as he pressed harder and left nothing but a helpless gasp behind.

“Don’t what, baby?” he whispered, teasing. “Don’t make you clench down on me like you fucking belong to me?”

I bit my lip, a shudder rolling through me, fighting the cry that wanted to tear free.

“Look at you, dripping all over me,” he growled, hand finally sliding slowly, every move deliberate and claiming.

Pleasure bloomed low and deep inside me, building until my whole body tightened, stretched tight, and helpless under his hand .

A smug expression plastered across his face the second a moan escaped me. But before I could even catch my breath, he pulled his hand away, let go of my wrists, and pushed off of me.

My eyes snapped open.

“Luca—what the hell?” I gasped, my voice shaking, tangled in need and fury.

He just smiled, completely unbothered. “I warned you, Siren. Don’t play games with me. I don’t play fair.”

He stood and walked away, casual and unhurried, like he hadn’t just ripped me apart and left me wanting more. The thick bulge in his pants was the only proof he wasn’t as unaffected as he looked.

I stared, stunned, watching him undo his belt and vanish into the bathroom without a single goddamn word.

The shower roared to life a second later, cold and final.

He wasn’t coming back.

I gripped the sheets so hard my knuckles whitened, fury and need tangled into something dangerous inside me. But underneath it, buried deep, was a dark thrill. He’d flipped the game on me, made me want more, made me burn. Outplayed me. Completely.

But it wasn’t over. Not even close.