Page 29 of All's Fair In Love & War

From the jump, that arranged marriage had been some bullshit. It was a power move between two old men trying to secure their legacy. As the underboss of my family, I had no say in the shit because Enzo was still Don. I was supposed to just accept it, settle down, and play house with a woman I had no interest in. Enzo had sold it like duty and honor to lock down a woman I had no drive to know.

So, I didn’t.

I kept my distance and didn’t waste time trying to force something that wasn’t there. Tatum was a bad bitch, but she didn’t light that fire in me. I had no curiosity, no hunger, and no desire to see what was beneath her surface.

And still, I let Enzo use her as a reason to take up arms against the Bulgari. Had let him feed me that bullshit about reclaiming what should’ve been mine like I was pressed over a woman who had already made her choice.

That was my real mistake. Not losing Tatum. Not walking away from a deal I never wanted in the first place.

It was letting Enzo play me.

Letting that old bastard push me into a fight that had nothing to do with me.

I exhaled slowly, forcing the rage to settle—at least for now. Anger wouldn’t rebuild what was lost, but someone would pay for it. The Bulgari thought they were safe now that the war was over.

That was their second mistake.

I wasn’t gonna retaliate with bullets or bombs. That was too easy and too quick. The kind of revenge I had in mind wasn’t something they could recover from in a day, a month, or even a year. No, if the Bulgari wanted to take from me, I’d take something they’d feel every single fucking day.

Sophia.

Not in blood. Not in battle. In something worse.

I didn’t need to force her. Didn’t need threats or fear to make her mine. That was the difference between them and me. They waged war with violence. I played the long game—one they wouldn’t even realize they were losing until it was too damn late.

I’d embed myself so deep into her that when they looked at her, all they’d see was me. Every conversation, every touch, every time she spent a second too long outside their reach, they’d wonder whose side she was on and where her loyalty lay.

They thought turning down my offer to marry her at the peace treaty meant she was out of my reach or that she was safe, then they were a lot dumber than I gave them credit for.

I’d make Sophia crave me. Make her trust me. Then I’d twist her into something they wouldn’t recognize. I wouldn’t break her—I’d reshape her, mold her into someone who belonged to me and me alone.

And when they finally realized what I’d done?

It’d be too fucking late.

Because by then, she wouldn’t just be mine.

She’dwantto be.

A slow breath dragged through my lungs, but it didn’t do shit to cool the fury burning beneath my skin. My fingers flexedat my sides, itching to pull out my gun and murder something. My men stood at a distance, smart enough not to speak or even breathe too loud. They knew better than to test me right now.

I stepped over a fallen beam, pausing in the center of the dancefloor. My jaw tightened with rage, but I didn’t let it control me. Revenge wasn’t about impulse, and it wasn’t about swinging the second you got hit.

It was about patience.

Precision.

Waiting for the exact moment when the pain would cut the deepest.

And I knew exactly where to strike.

"Boss." Nico, my cousin, called out to me, but he didn’t move closer.

Only Diamond would dare. He was my shadow, my enforcer—the one person I trusted to handle things exactly how I would. Where I dealt in calculated destruction, Diamond was the kind of man who smiled while he carved into flesh. Some men killed because they had to. Diamond killed shit because it was the only thing that made sense to him.

We’d been through hell together. The war with the Bulgari wasn’t the first time Enzo had almost burned this family to the ground, but it was Diamond and me who rebuilt it—brick by fucking brick. Side by side. If there was one thing I knew for certain, it was that Diamond didn’t have a conscience. Hesitation didn’t exist in his world. And if he had to paint this club in blood to prove a point, he’d do it without blinking.

That was why he was my right hand.

---