Page 15 of All's Fair In Love & War

I checked his watch and gave a single nod, and said, “Let’s go.”

As soon as I spoke, Bats chuckled under his breath like he hadn’t just witnessed a near-death by teeth. Tandy gave me one of those smug, half-bored looks as she turned to exit. Felicity didn’t wait for permission to leave. She moved behind Tandy, never making eye contact with anyone else in the room, but I saw the way her chin stayed lifted, the quiet defiance tucked into her spine. It wasn’t the same kind she’d walked in with.

She gave Khalil one last look before walking out. Cool, not cold. Calm, but far from broken. Her steps didn’t waver, even though I could still feel the storm radiating off her. It was obvious that she wasn’t finished with him. That woman would be his undoing.

Once we were all out in the hallway, it echoed with the sound of heels. Tandy’s stride was smooth and unaffected, while Felicity’s… she was trying to walk like nothing inside her was unraveling. However, I could tell she was holding it together, but only just.

Behind me, I heard Khalil exhale. Just once. Low. Like he’d finally let himself breathe, and that was when I knew that for better or worse, that girl had gotten under his skin.

Neither of them knew it yet, but the war between them had changed shape.

***

We were just outside the door when I slowed my steps and turned to face my wife.

“Tatum,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Before we go in, you need to be ready for the bullshit.”

She folded her arms, cocking a brow. “Bullshit like what?”

“Like pushback,” I said. “They’re going to test you, question your authority, maybe even bait you into reacting. Don’t take it personal, just stay in control. You don’t owe them explanations, just direction.”

Her jaw tightened slightly. Most people wouldn’t have noticed it, but I did.

“I know how to run a room,” she said coolly.

I nodded. “I know you do, but this is your first meeting as Don of the Genevese, and some of your people will only see you as your mother’s daughter, and your father’s heir by default because you’re a woman. You don’t need to prove anything to them—just don’t give them anything to use.”

Tatum’s arms uncrossed, and her shoulders squared. “You think I don’t know what’s at stake?” she snapped, voice low and clipped. “You think I made it this far by accident?”

“That’s not what I—”

“You think I need to be coached before walking into a room I’ve already bled for?” She stepped closer, eyes shooting me with daggers. “I don’t need your warnings, Naeem. I need you to either walk beside me or get the fuck out of my way.”

That fire in Tatum? I respected it. I always had. Still, I didn’t apologize. I never would. Everything I said came from a place of making sure she didn’t get blindsided, even if she hated the delivery. Now wasn’t the time for her to be defiant.

Without a word, I reached for the handle, pushed open the double doors, and we stepped into the room together.

Bats was positioned near the far corner, standing sharp with his hands clasped in front of him, eyes sweeping the space in steady intervals. Khalil stood just off-center, posted near the window, his posture rigid, the lingering pain in his side the only thing softening his stance. Two more of our men were stationed near the exits—fully alert, eyes tracking every movement.

No one slouched. No one spoke. This wasn’t a social visit, and we weren’t on our home turf. We were soldiers on high alert, inside another family's walls. We all understood the risk.

The Genevese lieutenants noticed us the moment we entered. I sensed the shift in body language, the barelyconcealed tension, and the darting glances. One of the older capos leaned toward another, whispering something behind his hand. Another just stared, jaw tight, tapping his finger against the edge of the table as if it took all his self-control not to speak.

They didn’t like that we were here. That much was clear. To them, this was Genevese business. Their meeting. Their table. And no matter how close the families had grown through blood and war, they didn’t want lines blurred by Bulgari men breathing the same air while decisions were being made.

Tatum felt it too, but she didn’t flinch. She walked to the head of the table with her chin high, shoulders set, and claimed her seat without waiting for anyone to offer it. Her presence cut through the room like a blade, sharp, intentional, deliberate. Whatever doubt they’d carried in here, she was daring them to say it out loud.

I stayed on my feet just behind her—not because I didn’t trust her to lead, but because I wanted everyone in that room to know exactly who stood at her back. Sitting would’ve made them believe I belonged. Standing reminded them that I knew I didn’t—but I wasn’t leaving either.

I didn’t need to speak. Just being there was enough to remind them that while she was Genevese by blood, the weight behind her throne carried a different name, and if anyone had a problem with that, they could suck my dick.

She was the Don now, and my job was to make sure no one forgot it. Protecting my wife was top priority.

A man two chairs down from Tatum cleared his throat. Gino Moretti. Mid-sixties. Ran numbers out of North Dresano City before the war. He was traditional, ornery, and didn’t respect a damn thing he didn’t help build himself.

“If this is a Genevese family meeting,” he said, his tone measured but clipped, “I’m wondering why the Bulgari men are present.”

No one moved, and no one spoke, waiting to see what Tatum would say.

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