Page 39 of All's Fair In Love & War

I leaned back like that would somehow erase the fact that I’d been caught watching, but it was too late. The door creaked open wider, and Mrs. Deleon tilted her head with a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“There she go,” she said, turning to the woman beside her. “Told you she don’t stray far from where she can eavesdrop. She nosey.”

The other woman raised an eyebrow, her lips curving like she was both intrigued and amused. She stepped forward first, hips swaying with confidence you couldn’t fake.

“I hear you’re a friend of my brother’s,” she said, her tone smooth, but not sweet. “I’m Sophia.”

Ah. The infamous little sister.

She didn’t offer her hand, so I didn’t stand. Instead, I adjusted my robe slightly, crossed my legs, and looked at her over the way she was looking at me.

Sophia Bulgari looked like she belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine and a Most Wanted list at the same time. She was tall, maybe five-nine without the heels, and had the build of a woman men started wars over. She was tall, maybe five-nine without the heels, and built like the kind of woman men started wars over. Mixed, Black and Mexican, if I remembered the rumors right, with smooth bronze skin, high cheekbones. Thick lashes framed her almond-shaped eyes, their color somewhere between honey and fire, depending on how the light hit. Right now, they were on fire.

Her hair was long, dark, and slicked back into a low braided ponytail that hit the center of her back. Not a singlestrand was out of place, like even her flyaways knew better than to act up. She wore a pair of black leather pants that fit like they were painted on, hugging every curve of her hips and legs with a grip that left nothing to the imagination. On top was a cream silk blouse, deep plunge, no bra, gold chains layered across her collarbone.

Her nails were sharp, glossy, painted blood red, and the rings on her fingers looked expensive enough to pay off someone’s mortgage. Her heels were Louboutins, matte black, six inches high, and silent on marble until she wanted to be heard. Every piece of her outfit screamed money and menace. This was my kind of bitch. I didn’t know whether I wanted to fuck her or be her friend. Now that I think about it, Tandy, too.

The thought wasn’t lost on me that Khalil was surrounded by pretty women.

“Pleasure,” I replied, keeping my voice soft, polite, and controlled. I wasn’t stupid enough to start a fire I wasn’t ready to finish.

Mrs. Deleon sucked her teeth. “Don’t y’all start no foolishness. This ain’t Real Housewives of Nowhere. She new, Sophia, and you need to be polite. And Felicity, stop tryin’ to be cute. You ain’t slick.”

Sophia chuckled. “Don’t worry, Mama D. I’m just introducing myself.”

She was sizing me up, taking in every detail with scrutiny that felt more personal than casual. She noted the way I flicked my hair, my features, my attire, and the way I sat with my legs crossed, as if I owned the room. Her stare wasn’t friendly or curious. It was probing and distant enough to make it clear she didn’t care for me already.

I recognized the look. It was one that women gave when they knew they were dangerous and wanted to see if the other woman knew it, too.

“Well,” Sophia said, scanning the room, “looks like Khalil's got you settled in real nice. Are you comfortable? It sure looks like you are.”

Was that shade? Maybe. Maybe not, but it sounded like it.

I gave her a smile, saccharine and hollow. “As comfortable as someone can be.”

She nodded slowly, like she could respect that answer. “Fair enough.”

Mrs. Deleon huffed. “Lord, y’all both need Jesus and a nap. I’m goin’ to finish supper. Sophia, don’t be in here long, and Felicity,” she added, eyes narrowing, “I better not hear about no foolishness after I leave this room.”

“Yes, ma’am,” we both replied simultaneously.

As soon as she walked away, Sophia's lips curled into a small, almost patronizing smile. “Well, you’re prettier than I expected.”

I tilted my head, letting my gaze trail slowly from her face to her shoes and back up again. “I get that a lot. Usually from men.”

“I see you got a mouth on you.” She giggled, shaking her head. “You giving him hell?”

“I try to keep things interesting.” I shifted my pose, crossing one leg over the other in the opposite direction so she wouldn’t be standing over me. “Wouldn’t want to bore the Bulgari household.”

“Funny. Khalil hates mess. I can see now you won’t last long.”

There was a pause, a small beat where neither of us said anything, as I studied her. She was too polished to be careless, too confident to be oblivious, and too nosey to just be visiting. This had to be a test to see if I could act right in front of company.

“Did Khalil send you to tell me that?” I asked, voice light but laced with suspicion.

Sophia blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

“Let me rephrase that. Did Khalil send you to see if I’m housebroken yet?”

---