Page 26 of All’s Fair In Love & War (The Bulgari Cartel #2)

Set The Trap

Dallas

Days prior….

My monitor’s glow bathed the room in a cool, blue light as I sifted through the latest batch of applications for membership at Eros.

The club was a fortress of indulgence, where secrecy was a must and the elite could shed their masks.

This was an empire, and I, Dallas Veneto, ruled it with the precision of a general and the cunning of a fox.

Every applicant was scrutinized with military-level thoroughness.

Their lives were dissected, and their pasts were laid bare.

The psychological evaluations were detailed enough to rival government dossiers, and the STD tests done at my facilities worked to ensure they were real.

Every test was non-negotiable. You either did them, or you didn’t walk through those doors.

I didn’t just sell fantasy. I sold safety and discretion, and no price was too high for peace of mind.

Tonight, the stack of applicants was thinner than usual. That wasn’t surprising. Not everyone knew of it, nor was Eros for everyone. Honestly, it wasn’t for most. The quarter-million-dollar yearly fee alone acted as a gatekeeper, weeding out anyone who didn’t belong.

I was halfway through the files when her name stopped me in my tracks.

Sophia Bulgari.

The name was like a spark in the dark, igniting a memory I hadn’t been able to shake since that night in the parking garage.

Her delicate voice. Her steady hand holding a Glock to my chest. The sharp, calculated focus in her eyes.

Everything about her radiated control, danger.

.. and the kind of hunger that belonged to a sexual deviant.

The chemistry between us had been undeniable, even in the middle of a standoff. I saw it in the way her breath caught when I stepped closer, the slight part of her lips, the flicker of hesitation behind her glare. She’d wanted to hate me, but I’d seen the cracks in her armor.

And now, here she was again, unknowingly knocking on my door.

I leaned forward and clicked open her file.

STD test: clean.

Psych evaluation: impressive.

No surprises there. Sophia didn’t leave loose ends—not even in her personal life.

Her headshot stared back at me. Polished.

Controlled. Forgettable to someone who didn’t know better.

But I remembered. The almond-shaped eyes that never stopped moving.

The lashes that could disarm a man just as easily as her gun.

The high cheekbones. The full lips. And the intensity that burned beneath it all.

The application was signed, and her consent was submitted. I smirked. If only she knew who ran this place.

I stared at her photo a moment longer and thought back to the first time I realized something about her didn’t add up.

It was two months ago when Senator Warren, a long-time client, turned up dead in his penthouse.

On the surface, it looked like a textbook overdose.

Cocaine scattered across the glass coffee table.

Residue smudged across his face. Rolled-up bill still in hand.

Slumped posture. Blue lips. Glazed eyes.

The cops didn’t blink. Open-and-shut. But I knew better.

The scene was too perfect. Too precise. The coke dosage was exact for a man of his size. No smudges out of place. No stray prints. No camera activity. It had been staged—flawlessly.

I’d seen something like it before, years ago, when whispers of an assassin called El Fantasma moved through the underground. A ghost. Their hits were always clean, poetic, wrapped in irony—and always tied to the Bulgari family.

Back then, people said the Ghost had retired or disappeared. But assassins like that don’t retire. They either get taken out or go deeper underground. The job that killed Warren? It had the same signature. Only this time, the irony was sharper.

Warren had built his career on anti-drug campaigns while privately indulging in everything he claimed to fight. His death wasn’t just clean. It was a message.

That was when I started watching Sophia.

On the surface, she played her part well as Khalil and Naeem’s wild little sister, the party girl, the one no one took seriously, but I saw through the act.

The way her eyes lingered on the exits. The way her body moved with purpose, not chaos.

Her posture. Her presence. Her precision. Most people missed the signs. I didn’t.

I didn’t want to believe it at first. Why would a woman like her, a Bulgari, with money, protection, and power, ever need to get her hands dirty?

But then she spun around in a dark parking lot, Glock raised and aimed it at my chest without hesitation. She hadn’t been surprised to see me. She’d known I was there. She’d had control of the situation before I even stepped into it.

That was the moment it all clicked. She hadn’t hesitated to kill me that day at the airport after the shootout with Naeem because she was afraid. She was deciding if I was worth the bullet, and now, as I stared at her Eros application glowing on my screen, I couldn’t help but smile.

The poetic kills. The silence. The discipline. It wasn’t just skill. It was art, and she wasn’t just a soldier. She was a ghost in heels.

Sophia was everything I’d suspected and more.

Leaning back in my chair, I approved her application without hesitation. She had no idea the club was mine, and I intended to keep it that way—for now.

I wasn’t letting her slip away. A smirk pulled at the corner of my lips as I leaned forward, running a finger along the edge of her mouth.

I was mid-thought when the door opened without a knock. Carla, one of my many conquests, walked in like she owned the damn place. A red dress that clung to her curves like a second skin, and she had a look on her face that said she knew she was about to get her way.

“Why the frown? I thought you would be happy to see me since it’s been a while,” she said, her voice sugary sweet.

“I’ve been busy,” I replied, not bothering to look away from the screen.

“Busy doing what? Counting your millions?” She giggled as she strutted over, leaning against the edge of my desk, her perfume hitting me before she did.

It was strong and overbearing. She was trying too hard to get attention.

I didn’t respond, though my fingers were still idly roaming over Sophia’s face.

“You’ve been ghosting me,” Carla pressed, her tone dipping into a sulk. “You used to make time for me. Now I see you less than I did when you were engaged to that bitch, Tatum.”

That pulled my gaze away from the screen, and I leveled her with a look so cold it could’ve frozen the room. “Watch your mouth, and don’t bring up my ex. You should never feel comfortable talking to me sideways about people who don’t concern you.”

She blinked, clearly caught off guard, but recovered fast. “I’m just saying, you’re acting like you don’t have time for me anymore. I used to mean something to you—”

“So you thought,” I cut her off, my tone sharp enough to draw blood. “It was fun, but what you and I had is done.”

She pouted, stepping closer, her hand reaching for my tie. “I don’t believe that. You’re just in one of your moods. Let me—”

Before she could finish, I caught her wrist and pushed her hand away. “Don’t,” I warned, my voice low and steady. “I’m not doing this with you. I said we’re done.”

Her eyes flashed with anger, but I didn’t care. She straightened, smoothing her dress and giving me a look that was supposed to make me feel guilty. It didn’t.

“You’re gonna regret this,” she said, her tone icy.

“I doubt it. Now see yourself out, and never come back unless you want me to put a bullet in your head,” I replied, already turning back to my screen.

Carla stormed out, slamming the door behind her, and I exhaled deeply as I rubbed the bridge of my nose. She was a problem, but not the kind I cared about fixing.

My focus was on Sophia, and I couldn’t help the grin that crept onto my face. Carla could never distract me from the woman who had my attention.

“You just signed up for something you aren’t ready for, but I’ll get you right. You don’t even know the plans I have for you,” I whispered to her picture, shaking my head.

Fingers drumming against the desk, I pulled up her application again, scanning the details as if I were looking for a weak spot.

Not that I expected to find one. Finding nothing, I opened the club’s roster for the weekend, our busiest time.

Members had to book their suite preferences well in advance, but I was the one in charge. Rules bent for me.

I blocked off a private space, one of the best, just in case she wanted to visit right away. However, if I knew her, Sophia wouldn’t just waltz in like everyone else. She’d scope the place first and test the waters. That was fine. I had all the time in the world to wait.

Picking up my phone, I made a quick call to my head of security.

“Kendrick,” I said when he answered, “I’ve got a new member I want flagged.

Her name is Sophia Bulgari, and I want eyes on her at all times, but keep it discreet.

Every move she makes, every person she talks to, I want a report.

If she so much as breathes funny, I want to know why. ”

“Understood, boss. Anything specific I should look out for?”

“Everything.”

“Got it, boss.”

“And Kendrick,” I added, my voice dropping slightly, “Sophia is a very dangerous woman. Don’t get too close, and whatever you do, don’t make contact.

If she even suspects you’re watching her, she won’t hesitate to put you down.

That’s not a guess. It’s a guarantee.” I paused.

“Follow orders, or you won’t live long enough to regret it. ”

“Understood,” he replied, and I hung up, leaning forward to type a quick note into her file.

No one else would see it, of course, but it was more for me, a reminder of who I was dealing with.

Keep your eyes open at all times. Do not let your guard down. She can’t be trusted.