Page 33 of Entwined Lies (Entwined #1)

Luca

Isabelle’s hand trembled as she lifted the glass to her lips, and fuck if it didn’t hit me square in the chest. Not because she couldn’t handle herself—hell, she was tougher than half the men in this room—but because seeing even the slightest crack in that armor ignited something primal in me.

She was fierce as hell, yet fragile in ways that made my brain short-circuit.

And there it was again—that surge of protectiveness I had no business feeling.

I swallowed it down. This wasn’t the time to go soft. Not here.

My eyes stayed glued to Parker. He was a snake in a suit, gliding through the room like no one could see the fangs beneath the charm.

He played the role well. Too well. But I knew how this would end.

I’d be taking him out myself—nice and slow, just to savor it.

Not tonight, though. Timing was everything.

Too many eyes on us, too many moving parts.

But that didn’t stop me from enjoying the mental picture—Parker on his knees, that smirk gone for good, and me with all the time in the world to watch him squirm.

I’d certainly start by cutting his tongue out for what he’d said.

The thought burned hot in my mind, a violent promise waiting to be fulfilled, but then Isabelle shifted against me.

A small movement, barely anything, but enough. Enough to pull me back into the moment.

I exhaled slowly .

“Breathe,” I whispered.

I slid my hand down, let it rest low on her back. Started circling, slow and easy, like I wasn’t holding on for both of us. Whatever game Parker thought he was playing, I wasn’t letting her lose.

She stilled, her hand steadying as she looked up at me, those deep green eyes locking onto mine. For a second, something flickered there—gratitude, maybe trust. Hell, whatever it was, I’d take it.

As if someone had flipped a switch, she was back in the game, and the calm radiating from her gave me what I needed to keep my own emotions locked down tight.

No room for mistakes tonight, not when the rat in the room needed to go, and we had to pull it off without getting caught with blood on our hands.

Parker walked up to the podium, slow and smug, soaking in the attention like it were oxygen.

The crowd? Hypnotized. Predictably.

Listening to Parker congratulate himself for whatever bullshit “charity” he was fronting tonight would’ve been amusing—if I didn’t know exactly how much blood was on his hands.

He wasn’t better than me. The difference between us wasn’t morality—it was branding.

I didn’t pretend to be something I wasn’t. I didn’t kiss babies, sell promises, or smile through lies while stepping over bodies to get what I wanted.

“This is the window we’ve been waiting for.” Reid’s voice snapped through the earbud.

My pulse jumped. Adrenaline hit hard and fast, like a punch of heat under my skin.

I glanced at Isabelle. Her face was calm, too calm. But her eyes? Same fire. Same edge. She was ready.

This was it. Parker wouldn’t know what hit him.

We backed toward the exit, moving slowly .

Her hand found mine and squeezed—hard enough to make a point—before dragging me down a side hallway.

Every step we took toward Parker’s office felt like tightening the noose, yet our movements were so fluid, it was as if we’d planned this down to the second.

The dim lighting, the echo of distant voices, even the faint hum of the air conditioning—they all fell away, irrelevant.

All that mattered was the task ahead and making damn sure Parker paid for his mistakes.

When we reached the door, Isabelle didn’t even blink—just pulled her gloves from my pocket and slipped them on before twisting the handle. It gave way without a sound, and we slipped inside like shadows—silent, invisible, and in total control.

Parker’s office was a masterclass in trying too hard—oversized chairs, overpriced wood, and a desk that could seat a dinner party.

The kind of office that made you question if the man behind the desk actually worked, or just sat there, admiring his own reflection in polished mahogany.

The whole setup screamed “Look how important I am,” but it reeked of insecurity.

“Lock the door,” I whispered as I drifted toward the desk, my fingers hovering over the glossy surface.

My eyes were sweeping the room, cataloging every detail, every possible hiding spot.

Behind me, Isabelle moved silently, her focus shifting to the tall bookshelf lining the opposite wall.

“This should do it,” I murmured, leaning forward as my fingers found the cable rack bolted beneath the desk.

I slipped the bug into place, securing it against the tangle of wires where it would blend in seamlessly.

Perfect spot—discreet enough that even if Parker crawled under here hunting for his lost dignity, he wouldn’t find a damn thing.

Straightening, I glanced at Isabelle.

She was completely absorbed in the bookshelf, her fingers trailing over the spines, methodical and focused. Something about the way she zeroed in on those books caught my attention.

“Find anything interesting?” I asked, stepping away from the desk.

She stilled, then turned to face me.

“Just making sure we’ve covered everything.”

I tipped my head toward the exit. “We’re done here. No need to push our luck.”

Before we left, I gave the room one last glance. Everything was exactly as we’d found it—no trace of us, no sign we’d been here at all.

Next stop? Parker’s private library, where he probably thought no one would dig too deep. A room meant for conversations that were never supposed to leave the walls.

Time to turn this little sanctuary into a ticking time bomb.

I opened the door and we slipped inside.

It was a library straight out of a rich guy’s wet dream. Wall-to-wall bookshelves, moody lighting, and that smug smell of old money and older books. The decor was less refined intellect, more ‘see how many first editions I can shove onto one shelf.’

We moved fast, scanning the room for the best place to plant the second bug.

As I walked toward one section of the shelves, Isabelle drifted to the far side, her hand smoothing over her dress with a quiet tension that tugged something low in my gut.

It wasn’t the idle, distracted gesture of someone browsing for a book—it was controlled, methodical.

But I let it slide. She was nervous about this whole thing, and there was no time for me to play Sherlock right now.

I reached into my pocket for the bug when Reid’s voice crackled in my ear, urgent and tense. “Heads up—Coverboy’s coming your way. You’ve got less than 30 secs.”

My heart rate spiked, and I shot a glance at Isabelle.

“He is coming. We need to move. ”

Her eyes widened slightly, but there was no hesitation. She hurried to me and took the bug from my hand.

Isabelle was far more clear-headed about this than I’d expected.

Without missing a beat, she crossed to one of the shelves and tucked the tiny device beneath the decorative base trim, as if she’d done this a hundred times before.

For a heartbeat, I almost forgot we were about to get caught.

But Reid’s voice cut through the moment like a cold knife. “He’s coming straight for you. 15 seconds, tops.”

Panic shot through me like an electric jolt.

No time for a clever escape.

No time to hide.

“15 seconds,” I looked at Isabelle, and our eyes locked, the weight of our situation sinking in fast.

“Gloves. Off. Now,” she said with wide eyes.

She tore hers off with her teeth like they offended her, grabbed my wrist, and dragged me across the room like I was nothing but weight.

Her fingers found the buttons, yanking my coat open. Belt—gone. Button—popped. Zipper—dragged down so fast it caught on the fabric. One second I was standing, and the next I was yanked into the chair, pants shoved to my thighs. And just like that, she dropped to her knees between my legs.

Well…

I’d almost admire her assertiveness if it weren’t for the fact that we were seconds away from being screwed.

My breath caught in my throat as her hand slid into my briefs and wrapped around me.

Wait—is she really…?

The door creaked open just as she leaned forward, her mouth wrapping around me in one smooth motion .

Fucking. Hell.

A hit of adrenaline, twisted with something darker, rushed through me the second I realized what she was doing.

Alright. Game on.

“Yeah, baby… just like that,” I said, voice rough, trying to keep my cool as Parker stepped into the room.

His eyes widened for half a beat, then came that smug look.

Keep grinning, asshole. You just walked into the wrong scene.

“Luca, didn’t realize you’d be entertaining guests in my library.” His voice was dripping with that fake camaraderie he wore like a cheap cologne.

Entertaining, huh? Well, buddy, you have no idea.

Isabelle didn’t slow down, her head still bobbing up and down like this was the most casual thing in the world. While my brain was struggling to keep up, and I was barely holding on to any semblance of control.

What the hell is she doing? Most people would stop when someone walks in on them, but not her. Nope, she’s doubling down.

“Just needed some privacy,” I gritted out the words, my voice rough and strained as I tried to focus.

My hand instinctively went to her head, holding her in place, like that was going to make this situation any less insane. This was a cover I did not see coming… or about to come, for that matter.

If there was ever a time for my dick to go limp, this would’ve been a goddamn blessing, but of course, the traitorous bastard was having none of it. No, instead, I was rock hard, fighting for control like a fucking teenager at his first strip club.

Parker’s smirk widened as he lingered like the world’s smuggest voyeur. Of course, he was loving this. Smug bastard.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to interrupt,” he said, that polite little curl in his voice making me want to punch him .