Page 5 of Entwined Lies (Entwined #1)

There it was. The exact fucking reaction I did not need right now.

I slammed the laptop shut like it was personally responsible for my current situation.

For fuck’s sake.

I exhaled a sharp laugh.

Fine. If it’s gonna fuck with my head, might as well use it to fuck with someone else’s. Yeah. This is definitely my worst—and most useful—fucking idea .

I dialed Enzo.

He picked up on the first ring—always eager to see what kind of shitstorm we were about to dive into.

“Get your ass to my office. It’s urgent.”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m still with the guards. Haven’t even left yet,” he grumbled before hanging up on me.

Anyone else would’ve been six feet under for pulling that crap, but Enzo? That prick knew he could push my buttons and get away with anything.

When he finally walked in, I didn’t bother with pleasantries.

“How long to take out the District Attorney?”

Enzo blinked.

Once.

Twice.

His hand froze mid-reach for the drink he’d just poured. Then his eyes went wide, like I’d just asked him to take out the Pope.

“Whoa, hold up.” He tapped his fingers against the table. “That’s… unexpected. Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“I’m dead serious. How long?” I repeated.

I wasn’t in the mood for debate. The DA needed to go, and yeah, it was risky. But high risk? Big reward.

“I don’t know, a couple of days. Maybe less, depends on the guy’s schedule.”

“Fine. Make him disappear.”

“Are you sure?”

Enzo’s tone made it clear—I needed to rethink my next move.

I ignored it.

“Do I look like I’m fucking joking?”

He hesitated, probably already calculating the fallout.

“No, it’s just… it’s not like you to drop a bomb like this out of nowhere. ”

“Make it happen. Preferably…” I glanced at my watch, “by morning. Make it look like an accident, or a robbery gone wrong. I don’t want a trace coming back to us.”

“Got it. I’ll make sure it’s clean. But this could stir up some serious shit. The feds might start poking around.”

I leaned back and crossed my arms. “Let them. We’ve contingencies for that. With the DA out of the picture, their whole case crumbles. They’ll be scrambling while we tighten our grip.”

He studied me, his eyes narrowing. “You’re awfully confident. What’s changed? Did you get one of those motivational posters? ‘Hang in there, kid. Murder your problems away’?”

With a smirk, I tapped the USB stick against my desk. “I have a new ace up my sleeve. A way to turn this mess to our advantage.”

This little piece of tech was about to become the game-changer—the one card no one saw coming.

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t push it. Enzo knew better than to question me once I’d set things in motion. He was always thinking a few moves ahead, but he trusted my instincts.

“Alright,” he said finally. “I’ll handle it. But be careful. This is a high-stakes play, and if it backfires…”

“It won’t,” I cut him off. “Just make sure it goes without a hitch. And keep an eye on Ellis. I want to know everywhere she goes, everyone she talks to.”

She was a wild card in this game, and I didn’t like wild cards. Not when they could flip the table and scatter all my carefully laid plans.

He stood and threw back his drink before leaving.

The door closed with a muted click.

I let out a breath. Every choice came with a price, but I’d learned to live with it. This life—a constant balancing act of power, danger, and control—was the only life I knew. And I wasn’t about to let it slip through my fingers .

I poured myself another drink, sank back into the comfort of the sofa, and dove back into her file, scrutinizing every detail with the same sharp eye I used to plan takedowns. Every line of text, every bit of intel, was a weapon I could use to bend her to my will.

This wasn’t just a chess game; it was a war, and I was already a few moves ahead. But the final checkmate was still up for grabs.

The fact that she was a single mother with no current romantic ties grabbed my attention and held it longer than necessary.

No significant other, no man in the picture aside from her dead father.

Previous boyfriends were mentioned in passing—irrelevant, forgettable assholes who clearly didn’t matter.

Good. She had no one to fall back on, no one to protect her if things went south.

No one else to complicate things. And that suited me just fine.

But why? A woman like her? What made her push serious relationships away? What the hell was she running from?

The more I thought about it, the clearer it became—she treated relationships the same way I did. Keep them at a distance, never let them get too close.

Though her reasons were probably different from mine, it was familiar. Too familiar.

In my world, you kept a few women around for fun, but anything serious?

That was for alliances, for leverage, not for love.

My old man drilled that into me, and it was one of the few lessons that stuck.

Cold, practical, effective—like a bullet between the eyes.

It ensured that losing a wife was an inconvenience, not a crippling blow.

I followed that advice to the letter, even when it meant walking away from anything that might have made me human.

My brother, Nico, though? Stubborn as hell. When our father got locked up and I took over as acting boss, Nico became my underboss, handling things in New York. He fell hard for a girl who had no business being in our world .

Against my better judgment, I convinced our father to let him marry her. That decision haunts me like a ghost I can’t kill.

We underestimated the Russians, thought they were just another problem we could handle. Never imagined they’d take things that far. The day they attacked, raped, and murdered Nico’s pregnant wife was the day I learned that love and this life don’t mix.

I took another sip, but the burn of the whiskey did nothing to ease the tightness in my chest. What happened to Nico was a raw wound. It was a hard lesson that had changed how I dealt with people, especially women, ever since.

With a sigh, I turned back to her file, searching for any crack, any hint that would show me who she really was beneath the polished exterior.

At 23, she began working for the DA. Not long after, she became a mother.

What the hell drove her into this life, especially as a single mom?

Dealing with men like me, she had to know that one wrong move could get her—or worse, her kid—hurt.

Maybe it was some twisted sense of justice, something burning inside her to make a difference.

But that kind of idealism? It comes with a price.

And sooner or later, she’d find out the hard way.