Page 72 of All's Fair In Love & War

One more slick look or backhanded comment, and we were gonna have a different type of conversation. Because if I was expected to keep the peace, I needed my people to fall in line—especiallythe ones with my last name.

“Hi,” Felicity answered smoothly, matching Sophia’s energy.

She didn’t overdo it, but she damn sure didn’t shrink, either. Gave just enough effort to be respectful without kissing ass, and I liked that.

Naeem leaned back in his chair, casually resting one arm over the back. His inscrutable eyes fixed on Felicity, not with a look of desire, but with the scrutiny someone gives to a newcomer in their domain.

“You must be the infamous Felicity,” he said.

“That depends on who’s telling the story,” she replied, offering a small smile.

Bats leaned toward his wife, smirking like he had a secret.

“That’s the dick biter,” he murmured just loud enough for Kenya to catch it.

She snorted mid-sip, nearly choking on her drink, and they both laughed into their glasses like teenagers. Felicity heard them. Anyone with ears would’ve, but she didn’t give them the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, she kept her head turned, and her focus locked on Naeem like she didn’t hear a damn thing.

My brother gave a short chuckle, then stood and extended his hand. “I’m Naeem. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

She shook it. “It’s nice to meet you as well.”

He nodded once before sitting again, but his eyes still lingered. He was always calculating and always reading between the lines. That was Naeem. Every word, every gesture, he was filing it away for later.

Next up was Riley.

She uncrossed her legs and stood, tall and graceful in her heels. “I’m Riley,” she said, her smile wide, but not exactly warm or inviting either. “Tatum’s best friend.”

Felicity didn’t miss a beat. “Good. I like knowing who’s loyal to whom.”

Riley tilted her head, smile still in place. “Never make the mistake of questioning my loyalty. I ride when Tatum rides… and sometimes before.”

Felicity nodded. “I can respect that. Hopefully, one day we’ll feel the same about each other,” she replied, tone even.

Riley’s smile didn’t shift. “We’ll see.”

That was it—no yelling, no side-eyes, no neck rolls, just a civil exchange between two women who hadn’t decided if they’d be allies or enemies yet.

They leaned in for a cheek kiss that resembled a carefully choreographed dance, more theatrical than sincere. It was a ritualistic motion, a display of respect devoid of the heartfelt emotion that usually accompanies such acts.

I observed the entire situation quietly, noting every action because I understood that women like them didn't act impulsively. They observed, they planned, and when they made their move, it was with accuracy. Whatever that was, it wasn’t over—not by a long shot. They still had to figure one another out.

Next was Tatum.

She remained seated for a moment, her gaze fixed intently on Felicity, scrutinizing her with the keen, discerning eyes of someone trying to unravel the true nature of the person before her. Her expression was a mix of curiosity and caution, as if she were peeling back layers to uncover hidden truths.

Felicity, unfazed by the penetrating stare, stood her ground. With a gentle yet confident smile playing on her lips, she stepped forward gracefully, assuming the lead with an air of confidence.

“Hi, I’m Felicity,” she said, voice smooth but intentional, like she knew exactly who she was introducing herself to.

Maybe she did. Tatum had once been arranged to marry her brother, Dallas.

Tatum stood then. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, her tone even. Tatum stood, slow and deliberate, not rushing to greet anybody. She looked at Felicity the way a queen sizes up a guest at her table—gracious, but not soft.

“I’m Tatum Genevese-Bulgari,” she said, her voice smooth but commanding. “Don of the Genevese Family… Naeem’s wife.”

Felicity gave a respectful nod, but I could see the wheels turning in her head.Tatum’s position of power had caught her off guard. She had expected Tatum to accompany the Don titlemerely as his wife. What she got instead was the queen of her own throne, separate from ours, and for a second, it threw her off her game.

There wasn’t tension between them, only understanding, and maybe, if she was smart, a bit of respect.

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