Page 13 of All’s Fair In Love & War (The Bulgari Cartel #2)
Peek-A-Boo
Sophia Bulgari
I adjusted my duffel bag’s strap as I slipped into the empty parking garage, careful to stay out of view of the cameras. I had just finished off Tatum’s uncle, Rio. He thought he’d gotten away because Tatum hadn’t had him knocked off right then and there, but she held back for a reason.
A public execution would’ve made him a martyr to the old heads still loyal to him.
Waiting, though, and letting him think he was in the clear was psychological warfare.
She wanted to make an example of him quietly because his sudden disappearance would speak louder than any bullet at the table ever could.
The feeling of being watched had trailed me for the last ten minutes, but I kept my cool.
My stiletto heels clicked against the concrete, the sound mingling with the low hum of engines and occasional shuffling from behind.
Whoever was following me was trying to be quiet, but I heard their footsteps.
They were a little too slow to be a coincidence.
Had my guards been with me, I doubted they would be so bold, but I had snuck past them to take care of my assignment. They thought I was inside my condo, and that was best for them. To be honest, I was deadlier than they were, anyhow. They just didn’t know it.
With a quick tug on my leather jacket, I released the safety on my Glock and shoved it back into the holster at my side.
My senses were on high alert. Every rustle of leaves or flicker of light set off alarms in my head.
Adrenaline surged through my veins, sharpening my focus and heightening my awareness of my surroundings.
Every step I took was calculated, and every breath was controlled as I made my way to the safety of my car.
“Alright. Let’s play,” I blew out a hard breath and muttered quietly after hearing the footsteps behind me quicken.
Reaching my vehicle, I leaned against the door casually and pulled my phone from my pocket, pretending I was calling someone. I wanted my pursuer to think I hadn’t noticed anything. However, my other hand rested on the Glock hidden beneath my jacket.
With each approaching step, the hairs on my neck prickled and stood upright. I nervously shifted my gaze to the shadows creeping along the walls. They helped to conceal the figure stalking me, but I could sense their presence.
I turned back around, pretending I hadn’t seen their silhouette hidden in the corner. It was better to play along with their little game of hide and seek. Games were fun to me, especially when I was supposed to be the prey.
The sound of footsteps quickened behind me, and my grip on my phone tightened. In the reflection of the car window, a shadow flickered—tall, broad, moving closer. I waited, counting the beats of their approach. Then, in one fluid motion, I spun around, the Glock aimed squarely at their chest.
“Move any closer, and I’ll blow your fucking brains out,” I warned, my voice cold and deadly.
The man slowed but didn’t stop, his hands slowly rising in what could only be described as a mocking display of surrender. As he stepped out of the shadows into the harsh glow of the fluorescent light, he came into focus, and my face twisted with recognition.
It was Dallas Veneto.
He looked every bit the underboss he was.
Standing at six-foot-four, his frame was draped in a custom three-piece suit that fit him like a second skin.
It had midnight-black fabric, sharp lapels, and a faint pinstripe running through the material.
The crisp white shirt beneath was unbuttoned just enough to reveal the gleam of a heavy gold chain resting against his cocoa skin.
The suit enhanced the broadness of his shoulders and the power in his muscular build. A diamond-studded watch glinted on his wrist, catching the light, and a gold diamond ring adorned one finger. It was bold, heavy, and undoubtedly expensive.
His perfectly groomed beard framed a face that was both rugged and refined, with high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and full lips that curved into a confident smirk. His intense, almond-shaped eyes, framed by lashes too thick for someone so dangerous, slowly perused my entire body from head to toe.
The heat in his gaze made me feel like he wanted to devour me whole. But that couldn’t be. Could it?
“Veneto,” I spat, my tone dripping with disdain. “Why the hell are you following me?”
“It’s nice to see you too, Ms. Bulgari,” Dallas drawled, his voice smooth as aged whiskey.
Everything about him screamed that he was trouble wrapped in expensive fabric. The way he smiled at me, all sly and confident, sent a tingle down my spine. Furthermore, he didn’t look afraid of the weapon pointed at him. Hell, he didn’t even act as if he were concerned. That was telling of itself.
“You’ve got a good eye. Most people wouldn’t have spotted me.”
“Most people aren’t me,” I replied, my gun never wavering. “Try again. Why are you here?”
Dallas grinned, ignoring my question as he took a slow, deliberate step closer.
“It was cute how you pretended not to notice me, but I knew better,” he replied, his gaze sweeping over me as his tongue slid across his bottom lip.
“Good for you, but you still didn’t answer my question.”
“And what question was that?” An infuriating smirk played on his lips.
“Why the hell are you following me? Did you see me as an easy target, or were you just stupid enough to think I would be your weakest opponent?”
“When did we become opponents?” He tilted his head, his intense eyes locking onto mine.
“Our families hate each other. That automatically qualifies me as your enemy.”
“Enemy? Nah, I would never think of you as my enemy. That just sounds a bit too harsh for the connection we have,” he flirted, sounding delusional.
I raised a brow and cocked my head to the side. “You and I don’t have shit, so if you want to consider me your enemy, that is just fine with me.” I lifted my Glock to his head.
“Relax.” He chuckled, undeterred by the weapon pointed at his face. “I just want to have a friendly chat.”
“Bullshit! The last time I saw you, I had this same gun pointed at your head. If Tatum hadn’t stepped in, you’d be dead. So why the hell would you come looking for me to talk?”
His smile deepened as if I’d said something funny. “I had to see if you’d actually do it this time.” Dallas took a careful step closer, his hands still raised.
“Keep testing me, and you’ll find out.”
Silence stretched between us, the kind that made most people squirm, but not Dallas. He stood there, steady and unflinching, like he belonged in the crosshairs of my Glock.
“You’re fascinating, you know that?” he said finally. “The rumors about you are quite impressive. They say you’re more ruthless than your brothers, but they left out how sexy you look with a gun in your hand.” His gaze dipped to my hips, and I hated the way my skin heated under his scrutiny.
“I don’t care what you’ve heard,” I said, my tone sharp enough to cut. “You’re still alive because of Tatum. Don’t mistake that for mercy.”
“Oh, I don’t,” he said, his smirk widening. “But I do wonder why you hesitated to kill me that day on that tarmac. Maybe you like me more than you’re willing to admit.”
“You’re one cocky muthafucka,” I hissed, tapping the barrel against his forehead.
“Yeah, I am, but don’t use that as a reason to deflect my question.” He leaned in slightly, his hands still raised, but his posture was impossibly relaxed.
My eyes narrowed, and my nostrils flared as I took in the scent of his expensive cologne, which blended with an aroma that was all man.
“Do you want me to finish the job since you seem confused as to why you’re still alive?”
“You got a thing for me, don’t you?” He smirked, taking another step closer.
“The only thing I have for you is the bullet I’m about to put in your head.” I rolled my eyes.
Dallas snickered as he bit into his pink bottom lip. “It’s okay if you don’t want to admit it, but I will. I’ve been thinking about you, Sophia. I’ll never forget that look in your beautiful eyes when you were about to kill me.” His voice sank into my skin, smooth and seductive, as he moved closer.
“One more step, and I’ll put a bullet between your eyes.” My gun tracked his movement. “I see you have a death wish,” I sneered, my voice trembling slightly—not with fear, but with the effort it took to keep my composure.
“Maybe,” he said, his voice dropping lower as he continued to close the distance between us, “but if I’m going out, I’d rather it be by your hands.”
His words hung in the air, heavy and charged, as he took one final step, closing the distance between us. My Glock was pressed against his chest now, the steady thrum of his heartbeat pulsing beneath my finger.
“Admit it,” he whispered, his voice a challenge. “You don’t want to kill me because you want something else.” He lowered his hands to grasp the long, thick dick tucked inside his pants.
I blinked, momentarily thrown off balance by the boldness of his gesture. I swallowed hard, my resolve faltering under the weight of his gaze. He was right—I didn’t want to kill him. Not tonight.
And he knew it.
Our families had finally found peace, though it was a fragile balance that took too much blood and sacrifice to secure. I wouldn’t be the one to shatter it. If the war ignited again, it wouldn’t be because of me.
Naeem and Khalil already saw me as selfish, reckless, and irresponsible.
They didn’t need another reason to solidify that belief.
I’d spent enough time proving them right because I kept secrets from them.
And whether I admitted it or not, a part of me was tired of being the disappointment in the family.
“Are you fucking serious right now?” I spat, trying to shake off the intoxicating pull of his presence.
“Very,” he said, his voice dropping lower.
I scoffed. “You’re awfully confident for a man with a loaded gun aimed at him.”