Page 8 of Entwined Lies (Entwined #1)

Luca

I smirked around the rim of my coffee cup as Isabelle’s photo stared up at me from the paper. I’d been watching the news with a deep sense of satisfaction these past few days. Her name had filled every news report, her face impossible to escape.

Enzo rested his hands on the table and leaned in, his smug expression impossible to miss.

I set the paper down, meeting his gaze. “I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again… Damn good job.”

“Yeah, I made a few calls, and now the media’s all over it. She’s got the beauty, the smarts, and a spotless record. People are gonna eat it up.”

“Good. It’ll make her crash all the more satisfying if she doesn’t wise up and play her part.”

“And if she actually pulls it off?”

A slow, wicked grin spread across my face. “Then she’ll be a fucking hero. But heroes have their weaknesses, and when the time’s right, we’ll exploit every last one of them.”

The game was in motion, and whether she realized it or not, she was playing her part perfectly.

“Keep me posted on her progress. Every detail matters.”

“Of course, we won’t miss a thing.”

As he collected the papers, my burner phone buzzed with an unexpected call. It was my father.

Enzo looked up, his expression tightening—he knew as well as I did that a call from him never meant anything good.

My father’s voice, usually rock solid, had an edge to it that immediately put me on alert. He was pissed.

I held my breath, knowing better than to cut him off.

“Son, I don’t like where this is going.”

I stayed quiet.

“The new sheet on my bed is making me nervous. I don’t like the wrinkles,” he said, his cryptic way of referring to Isabelle.

“You shouldn’t worry about it. It’ll smooth out once I pull the edges the right way.”

“I talked to Johny yesterday. According to him, it’s not that kind of sheet. We need to toss it.”

He didn’t have to spell it out. It was a kill order.

My jaw clenched so tight, I thought it might crack.

Johnny. Fucking Johnny. The guy was a know-it-all, always running his mouth and offering advice no one asked for. Normally, my father wouldn’t have taken his word as gospel, but being sentenced to twenty years for underestimating someone had made him more paranoid.

Now, thanks to Johnny’s ‘wisdom,’ I was getting orders to do something I never wanted to do.

But I knew better than to argue. My father wasn’t just some old man stuck in his ways—he was a legend, a man who’d built an empire from the ground up.

And most importantly, he was still the boss.

When he gave an order, you followed it, no matter how much it pissed you off.

“I understand. I’ll handle it.”

After a beat of silence, the line went dead.

I dragged my hand through my hair, sighing like it might help. For the first time, doubt crept in .

I’d never once questioned an order. It was just part of the job—a necessary step to maintain power, protect our interests, and, most importantly, my life.

Order was everything, and refusing it only led to another body, the one’s who couldn’t follow through.

But this… this was different. She wasn’t just another name on a list. She was the part of my past I couldn’t outrun, no matter how hard I tried.

Killing her would mean admitting that the fantasy of her being mine one day was always just that—a fantasy.

But the choice had already been made for me.

I glanced at Enzo. “Johnny’s been running his mouth, and now we must handle this differently.”

Enzo straightened. “What kind of different?”

“The attorney. The old man wants her gone.”

“Are we about to slaughter the whole fucking staff?”

I shook my head. “No, and if someone’s gonna take her out, it’s me. I’ll be the one who pulls the trigger. One clean shot, quick and painless.”

Enzo’s brows shot up, his silent question clear—why the hell was I getting involved in this myself?

“Remember the blonde from twelve years ago? The one I couldn’t shake, no matter how many others I fucked? It was her.”

“No fucking way.”

I leaned forward, locking eyes with him. “I wanted to spare her. Ruin her reputation, destroy her career, whatever is necessary, but leave her alive.”

“If the old man wants her gone, it must be done, sure, but are you absolutely fucking certain you want to do it yourself?”

“Yes,” I said with a sigh.

Did I really want to do it myself? No. Fuck no. The idea of pulling the trigger on her was like a noose tightening around my neck. But I had to. I couldn’t risk some hitman screwing it up, chasing her down while she tried to hide in terror. I owed her at least that much—a quick, clean end.

Enzo didn’t push any further. He knew me well enough to know that once I decided, that was it.

? ? ?

That night, getting ready for what was coming, I shoved the doubt down.

No room for anything but moving forward.

But God, what the fuck was I doing? Only an idiot breaks into a house at night wearing a mask and gloves, as if it were some bad movie.

Guess that made me the idiot. It was a move I never thought I’d have to make.

And if I’m being honest, it made me question every stupid decision that had put me here.

The street was quiet, the kind of quiet that felt wrong.

A few leaves rustled. Traffic hummed somewhere far off.

Isabelle’s house was all polished wood and perfect charm.

Like something out of a postcard, with its neat stone pathway, soft porch lights, and perfectly arranged flower pots.

The kind of house that radiated safety, stability… innocence.

I crouched in the dark, the mask itching against my face, making me feel half a fool, half a criminal.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

As acting boss, I wasn’t usually the one getting my hands dirty, and definitely not without precautions.

But I wanted this done—reckless, maybe, considering it would’ve only taken a day to swap the agents for someone who was already on our payroll.

I moved silently as I approached the side of the house. The FBI agents stationed outside had no clue I was there.

Right on schedule. The shift changed, and they were wide open. It was almost too easy.

Those federal fucks aren’t half as sharp as they thought .

I slipped through a half-open window and dropped into a dim hallway. The light was soft, barely enough to throw shadows.

I made it to the living room and stopped cold.

Isabelle was curled up on a cream-colored couch, deep in her book. She was in one of those massive shirts, shorts just flashing underneath. Her blonde hair spilled everywhere, picking up the low light from a lamp off to the side.

The whole room looked soft. Safe.

Pillows stacked neatly, a throw folded over the couch, magazines lined up just right on the coffee table.

She smiled a little as she flipped the page, completely gone in whatever world she’d fallen into. She had no clue what was waiting for her on the other side of that night.

I forced down the tight knot in my throat and slipped back into the shadows, my grip tightening around the gun. As if a few more seconds could change what was bound to happen.

Just pull the trigger. One clean shot and it’s over.

Couldn’t move. I just leaned hard against the wall and tried like hell to get my mind right.

Then something caught my eye—framed photos on the wall. Family pictures. And in the center, a boy.

I narrowed my eyes and stepped closer.

What the actual fuck…?

I leaned in closer, hoping that a clearer view would somehow make it not real. But no. The more I stared at that kid, the more my stomach dropped.

The boy wasn’t just familiar. He was me.

Not literally, but damn near. The dark, unruly hair, the sharp jawline, the piercing blue eyes that I’d seen in the mirror, staring back at me my whole life—it was all there, on this child’s face.

As if someone had taken a picture of me at that age, tossed me in a new setting, and slapped it on this wall .

No. No fucking way.

I pushed back against the wall, hands shaking, heart thundering, the ground tilting under my feet.

My gut turned over as I did the math. I ran through the years, counting back to that summer in Palermo.

Back to her. Back to the one night that was supposed to be nothing more than a one-night stand.

The kid in the photo was younger than he should’ve been, the dates didn’t quite line up, but hell, the numbers didn’t mean shit when I was staring at a miniature version of myself.

Is this what karma looks like—showing up when you least expect it to punch you right in the face?

The gun in my hand became a dead weight, cold and useless. What kind of monster was I if I could still pull the trigger after seeing that? The kid could’ve been mine.

Shit.

I dragged in a shaky breath and tore my eyes off the photo. Everything had changed. Killing her was off the table.

Quietly, I slipped back out the window and into the night.

I ripped off the ski mask as I slid into Enzo’s car.

He didn’t say a word. Just shot me a look and hit the gas.

Back home, I poured myself a double, hands shaking harder than I wanted to admit. Took a sip, tried to drown out the screaming voice in my head— what the fuck are you doing?

Enzo dropped into the seat across from me, waiting for the story.

I recounted everything to him, down to the last messy detail.

“You didn’t kill her?” He wore that fake serious look, but the amusement was all over him.

“No.”

He leaned back and gave a dry chuckle. “Risking everything for her. Bold move, man. Didn’t think you had it in you. Guess there’s a soft spot buried somewhere. ”

“This isn’t some fucking storybook ending. Father might not have set a timer, but I know better than to think he’s patient.”

“No enchanted forest, no woodland chorus. Just you, throwing the family rulebook into a dumpster fire. But let’s be real, if Daddy Dearest calls me and says, ‘It’s time for Luca,’ we’re in deep shit.

Because I’m not doing it, and we both know what that means for me.

” He paused, his grin fading as he added, “I like your pretty face, but I’m not interested in sharing a grave with you. ”

“Fair enough, I’m not looking to book a double plot either.”

But the truth was, the noose was already tightening around my neck.

I didn’t pull the trigger, and that alone was enough to make me a liability in Father’s eyes.

Maybe I’d bought some time, but it wasn’t going to last. Sooner or later, I’d have to come clean.

I’d have to tell him that I didn’t follow through with the order.

And when I did, who’s to say he wouldn’t put a contract on my head?

The thought stuck to me like smoke, thick and choking.

“What’s the move?”

“I need eyes on them. Trusted guys, no one sloppy. And a DNA sample for a paternity test. Quietly. No one else knows, and it must be done fast.”

“I’ll get our best on it. It’ll be done right.”

Good. Because if this kid is mine… well, shit, everything changes.

? ? ?

It took two days, but sure as hell, the result came back positive. I was the father.

I stared at the paternity test, my mind reeling. Enzo and I had talked about it so many times: how getting a woman pregnant was the worst kind of mess. Now, it wasn’t just some hypothetical nightmare. I was in it .

The confirmation hit me like a sledgehammer. A son— my son—living under the same roof as the woman I’d nearly killed. Not just hurt. Killed . I’d come so close to pulling the trigger, so close to ending her. The mother of my kid.

How did everything go so damn sideways? What if I hadn’t hesitated? Yeah, I knew her son— our son—wasn’t home that night. I wasn’t reckless enough to risk that. But that boy would’ve come back to an empty house, left without a mother because of me—his own father.

Enzo came in, and for once, the usual cocky grin wasn’t there. He looked at the papers and blew out a breath.

“So it’s real. You’re a dad.”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. What the hell was there to say?

“Look, maybe this isn’t the disaster we always thought it would be.”

I dropped the papers onto my desk and ran a hand through my hair. “Nico wouldn’t agree.”

Bringing Nico up was a cheap shot, but I couldn’t help it.

Enzo’s whole body tensed. “That’s different. You know it is.”

Maybe it was. But that didn’t change the fact that I had two lives to protect now—hers and his.

And I had no idea how I was going to do that while also figuring out how to survive defying Father’s order.

The old man wouldn’t give a damn about Isabelle, and the fact that I had a son wasn’t going to change the way he saw the world.

Family only mattered if it could be used to gain or maintain power. But fuck him.

“No one’s touching them. Not Father, not anyone. I’ll deal with the consequences later, but for now, they stay safe.”

“I’ll make sure the right precautions are in place. We’ll protect them both.”

I paced, each step heavier than the last. My mind was trying to make sense of the mess I was neck-deep in, searching for any way to handle it.

As the minutes dragged on, an idea began to form. It wasn’t pretty, but it was something. Paul, the sick fuck. His twisted game had left wreckage in its wake, but I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t sparked something. Inspiration.

I stopped and leaned against the desk as the pieces started to click together. It wasn’t safe, but I found something steady to hold onto—a direction, at least.

“Maybe this isn’t as impossible as it feels,” I muttered, almost to myself.

“You see a way out?”

“It’s wild, but do you trust me?”

Enzo gave me a long look, then sighed dramatically. “Considering the last time you asked that, I caught a bullet… no. But I guess it’s this or nothing, right?”

“Exactly.”

“Alright. What’s the next move?”

I leaned forward, ready to lay it out. There were no guarantees, but if we pulled this off, maybe we’d make it through this shitstorm alive.