Page 45 of Entwined Lies (Entwined #1)

Isabelle

The water was way too hot—but I didn’t care. I needed it. Wanted it to burn the last few weeks off my body like they never happened—every goddamn ounce of fear, of stress, of holding my breath for too long.

I sank deeper into the tub and let everything slip away. No tension in my shoulders, no lurking dread. Just me, the warmth, and a tiny, stolen moment of peace.

My phone sat on the counter, silent and face down. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t care. The world could spin without me for a bit—I couldn’t keep up anyway. Not when my head was still stuck in everything that happened.

I thought I was prepared for anything—until he admitted he knew about Jake and said he loved me. Suddenly, last night became everything I never let myself want. And today? Today, the universe was finally giving me a break, a little nod for every lie I’d told, every risk I’d taken.

After waking up, we stayed tangled up in each other, talking about everything and nothing, letting the morning slip away. It was raw, unfiltered, and maybe, just maybe, it had a hint of hope in it.

Now, hours later, I couldn’t help but replay every detail—the way he’d pulled me close, whispering that he’d never get tired of mornings like this. How he’d laughed when I tried to steal the blanket, only to yank me against him, nuzzling into my neck, that stupid grin made me roll my eyes.

And here’s the thing—I let myself believe it.

I let myself think, What if this could be real?

That we could steal more mornings like this, where the rest of the world didn’t matter.

Stupid? Yeah. A little pathetic? Maybe. But that didn’t stop me.

I wasn’t ready to give it up, even knowing how fast it could all burn.

The water had turned lukewarm. With an exaggerated sigh, I climbed out, wrapping a towel around me. I reached for my phone, expecting the usual—texts, updates from Reid, something about a bill I’d forgotten to pay. But what I saw instead? Seventeen missed calls from Chrissy.

My stomach flipped like it knew something I didn’t. Because let’s be real, nothing good ever comes from seventeen missed calls.

I tapped on her contact, the phone pressed to my ear, waiting for her voice.

Straight to voicemail.

Tried again.

Same result.

And just like that, the peace I’d built up shattered like glass. My brain kicked into overdrive, racing through every possible disaster, each one worse than the last.

It’s probably nothing—her phone died, a pocket-dial, something like that , I tried to convince myself. But Chrissy wasn’t the type to blow up my phone unless it mattered.

Still wrapped in the towel, I stood in the bedroom with my phone gripped in one hand, holding my breath.

I didn’t notice the door open. Only the soft click as it closed—and Luca, standing there. Shirt half-open, hair tousled like sin, and a gaze that pulled me straight into his orbit.

“Hey.” It came out soft, unsure .

I pasted on a smile—tight, fake, the kind you throw up when you’re already drowning—and slid the phone behind me.

Luca didn’t say a word. He crossed the room, one hand locking tight on my waist, yanking me into him. His fingers caught my chin, forcing me to look up.

“You’ve ruined me,” he said, his breath warm with the scent of whiskey. “And I still fucking want you.”

Then his mouth crashed into mine as if it hurt to wait another second.

Panic twisted in my gut. Still, I kissed him back—it was easier than dealing with what might come next.

His hands moved like they couldn’t get enough—down my spine, over my waist—until he yanked the towel away and let it drop.

I didn’t fight it. Not because it made any sense, but because I didn’t want to feel anything else.

A gasp caught in my throat as his lips moved lower, trailing heat across my skin. My nails dug into his shoulders, holding on, trying to keep it together. But when he dropped to his knees, fingers pressing into my hips, a moan slipped out. I didn’t care if pretending fixed nothing. I needed him.

“God, you taste like heaven.” He dragged his tongue over me. “And that’s the cruelest part. Thinking I could ever have a piece of heaven.”

His words sliced through whatever daze I was in, sharp enough to sting, but I couldn’t speak. Could barely think. Everything narrowed until there was only him—his mouth on me, his hands gripping my hips, and the way my body arched into him like it didn’t know better.

When I finally came, it hit like a goddamn freight train—my knees gave out, breath gone, whole body trembling.

He straightened, his eyes fixed on me. “You should’ve run when you had the chance. ”

My pulse roared in my ears, my brain screaming “Run.” But my feet? They didn’t move. They stayed rooted to the spot.

He pressed me into the wall, the full weight of him keeping me locked in place. His eyes burned through me.

“You’ve always known who I am… You should’ve known better.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“You should be scared,” he said, but there was a crack in it. A hesitation he couldn’t quite hide.

His fingers trailed down my throat, too soft, too careful for the threat in his words. Like he wanted to break and hold me at the same time.

“What… what are you doing?”

“Burning this into my memory. Every single second of you, of this.”

I almost said something—almost stopped him—but then his arms were around me, lifting me like he already knew I wouldn’t fight him. He laid me on the bed with a gentleness that made my chest ache, then stood there for a beat. Silent. His eyes trailing every inch of me.

Then his clothes were gone, and Luca was over me, his heat sinking into my skin.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed against my neck. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Then why are you acting like you’re saying goodbye?”

“You don’t know?” His mouth moved down my neck.

I gasped when his teeth caught me, hard enough to leave a mark.

“You really have no idea what you’ve done to me? How fucking far you’ve pushed me?”

“Luca—”

“Don’t.” He cut me off.

He spread my thighs like I was something sacred, something breakable, before his mouth crushed against mine. He pushed into me with maddening control, slowly enough to drive me wild.

I moaned, and he stilled. He didn’t blink. Just stared at me as if I were the only thing left worth holding on to.

Luca pulled out, pausing, trying to get control—but when he slammed back in, all that control vanished. His rhythm got messy. Raw. His grip turned rough—like he was scared I might disappear if he didn’t hold tight enough.

Every movement tore me further apart, dragged me closer to the edge.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned as his hips ground into mine, deep and hard.

Luca’s body broke against mine, dragging me down with him until there was nothing but the two of us, tangled together, hearts pounding in sync.

“Goddamn it. You should’ve run.”

His hand cupped my cheek, thumb brushing soft as breath. And I saw it—a flicker in his eyes. Something that looked a hell of a lot like pain.

“I so fucking loved you… I’d have traded my last breath just to give you one more.”

He pulled out and pushed himself upright, arms planted on either side of me. In an instant, his warmth turned to ice. The softness from moments ago shifted into something sharp, calculating, almost unrecognizable.

“Now, we’re going to talk.”

He didn’t wait for a reply—reached to the headboard, pulled the gun free, and clicked the safety off as if it were punctuation.

“Start talking, Isabelle. Tell me what the fuck is going on. And don’t you dare fucking lie to me.”

My body went still. Paralyzed. Like my brain couldn’t catch up. Like I was five seconds behind my own disaster .

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Fear twisting hard and fast. There was no more room for lies. No more time for games. He wanted the truth. All of it. And he’d rip me open if that’s what it took.

The gun pressed to my temple, and I stopped breathing. Everything I thought I could control turned on me—wrapped tight around my throat. I stayed still. Forced my body not to tremble, even as my hands shook like I was seconds from falling apart.

“Luca, please…” I whispered, my voice shaking.

“Don’t fucking ‘Luca, please’ me,” he snapped, his grip on the gun tightening. “I want the truth. Now. Who the fuck have you been talking to? Why have you been asking about Ivanov?”

I swallowed hard, forcing down the fear clawing up my throat. Anything I said now would only bury me deeper. But he was already putting the pieces together, already slipping out of control, and I had precious little time before he completely lost it.

“I was… I was trying to protect Jake,” I forced out. “I was scared that he would be collateral damage.”

His face didn’t soften. If anything, it got harder—colder. His jaw clenched, pressing the gun harder against my temple.

“You’re still not answering the fucking question. Why the fuck were you meeting with the Russians?”

Panic surged through me.

He knew.

Of all the things I’d prayed would stay buried, this was the worst one. The one I couldn’t spin. The one that could destroy everything.

My pulse roared, wild and useless, drowning out every thought but one: don’t let this get worse . I had to say something. Had to stop this from spiraling further out of control.

Nina and Chrissy’s faces flashed before me, their trust, their willingness to help despite the risk. What the hell had I done? If Luca ever found out how deep this went, who else I’d dragged into it …

My blood turned to ice.

The gun was already pressed to my head. I didn’t need to imagine what came next if he uncovered the rest.

I had to protect them. Somehow, I had to keep him from turning his fury on them.

“It wasn’t supposed to go this far. I never wanted to betray you. I thought if I could make a deal, if I could keep Jake safe, I could buy us time. I didn’t think—”

“You didn’t think?” His voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to. It was sharp enough to cut bone. “You didn’t stop to consider that working with the fucking Russians might blow up in all our faces? That Jake could end up paying for your mistake?”

Tears stung before I could blink them back. I hated that he could see it.

“I thought I could handle it. I thought I could protect everyone… protect you.”

The words hung heavy between us.

He stared at me—one second, maybe two. No words. No emotion. Just that terrifying empty look.

Then, finally, he lowered the gun.

The cold metal slipped away from my skin, but the impression stayed.

He dropped the magazine, set it on the nightstand. Then pulled the slide, and the bullet popped out—landing right in my lap.

I stared at it, numb. That tiny piece of metal had been one breath away from changing everything.

Luca placed the gun beside the magazine. Picked up the bullet, rolled it between his fingers like he was weighing more than metal, then set it down too.

Then he sat on the edge of the bed, naked and unreadable, and dismantled the gun without a word, like muscle memory had taken over .

“Fuck.” He ran a hand through his hair and glanced back at me. “You don’t get it. You just don’t fucking get it.”

I should’ve run. I thought about it. But I sat up instead, steadying myself for whatever he’d do.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done? What could have happened?”

I nodded, the tears finally spilling over. I knew what I’d done. Could feel the weight of it like concrete in my chest. He’d nearly pulled the trigger. That wasn’t a guess—it was the truth. And I had no idea what stopped him. But God, I was grateful.

Luca got up without a word and walked to the window. His back was a wall—broad, unmoving, stiff with everything he wasn’t saying. He was falling apart and doing everything he could not to show it.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The apology floated there between us, heavy as hell, and completely ignored. He didn’t move. Didn’t turn. Just stared out the window like the weight of everything was too much to look back on.

I climbed off the bed, my legs unsteady as I stepped closer. My hand hovered, inches from his back, but I didn’t dare to touch him.

“Luca, I love you,” I whispered. “Please, believe that. I love you so much.”

He didn’t react. But his whole body tensed, as if he’d been hit and was trying not to show it.

The silence stretched. I held my breath, waiting. Wanting him to say it back.

But all I got was, “Get dressed. Pack a bag.”

“What… where are we going?”

“Just do it.”

The fear hit fast and sharp, clawing up my throat. But I swallowed it down.

I nodded, even though he refused to look at me, and stepped into the wardrobe before I could fall apart. My hands trembled as I dressed, my mind racing. What now? What next? What if?

I stayed quiet. Packed a few things, glancing at him every few seconds, begging silently for a sign that we weren’t already done.

His back didn’t move. Not a twitch. He kept staring out at nothing, like I was already gone.

When I was done, I didn’t say a word. Just held the bag as if it could stop me from breaking.

“Luca…” I tried, but nothing else came. What the hell could I say now?

He walked into the closet, stepped into his pants, and didn’t say a damn thing. When he finished buttoning his shirt and finally faced me, his eyes were empty. Cold.

“Let’s go.” He turned and walked out without another word.

I froze. My body locked. If I didn’t move, maybe it wouldn’t be real. But reality didn’t care about stillness.

Eventually, I followed. Each step was heavy. Each breath harder than the last. And with every inch I moved, the man I thought I knew got further away—and the future ahead felt like a door I didn’t want to walk through.