Page 30 of All’s Fair In Love & War (The Bulgari Cartel #2)

“No, you don’t.” She leaned against the stall, looking smug. “I’m the least of your worries. If anything, you should be mad at your uterus and Naeem. They’re the ones working against you.”

A snicker slipped from her lips, and I clenched my fists, torn between laughing, crying, or strangling her where she stood.

“Stop making jokes, Riley. This isn’t a game.” My voice wobbled, and suddenly, the stall felt too small, too suffocating.

I couldn’t do this. Not now. Not with everything else crashing down around me.

“Aww.” Riley’s expression softened, and the teasing went away. “I know you’re not feeling this, but you can’t just sit here spiraling. You need a plan of action.”

I scoffed. “What kind of plans can I make when I’m tied to a man like Naeem?

” I exhaled, running a shaky hand through my hair.

“He’ll notice, and he’ll want me at his side 24/7, breathing down my neck and trying to control every aspect of my life.

I’m supposed to be past that. I’m the Don, for Christ’s sake. ”

Riley cupped my cheeks, making sure I looked her dead in the eyes. “You are past that. So. Fight. Him.”

My face twisted so hard, it looked like I’d just sucked a whole lemon.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Riley said, tightening her grip on my face to snap me out of it. “You’re Tatum Muthafuckin’ Genovese-Bulgari . You hear me? You’re building an empire outta ashes. You’ve survived betrayal, heartbreak, blood, and wars.”

She leaned in closer, her eyes fierce. “You don’t fold, and you damn sure don’t let any man, not even Naeem, write your story. You’re the one holding the damn pen, so if he thinks he’s about to control your life? Nah. He’s got the wrong bitch, not my sister.”

Riley kissed my cheek and let go of my face before stepping back with a nod. “Now fix your crown, get up, and move like the boss you are.”

My best friend breathed life into me, so I took a deep breath, squaring my shoulders.

She was right. I couldn’t let Naeem control my future.

If I let him have his way, what would happen if I had a daughter?

Would she grow up feeling trapped like I had?

Like my mother had? Like all the women who have husbands, sons, brothers, fathers, and uncles who are made men?

I refused. No one, not my husband, our families, nor my businesses, would come before her. She had a mother who would go to hell and back for her.

I met Riley’s gaze, my voice firm. “You’re goddamn right. Naeem doesn’t own me.”

RING …

My phone rang immediately after I finished speaking. I jolted my head to the side, and my heartbeat quickened as my bag vibrated with a vengeance. With trembling hands, I opened my purse, grabbed the device, and looked at the caller ID.

It was Naeem.

His name glowed on the screen, and all that righteous confidence went out the window. The color drained from my face as I clutched the phone to my chest, my heart flatlining at that very moment.

Snapping my head up, I glanced at Riley, my eyes wide as saucers. “It’s Naeem! What do I do? What do I dooooo?” I stared at her, panic thrumming through me.

Riley’s brow lifted, her expression flat. “Didn’t you just say he doesn’t own you?”

“Yes, bitch! I lied.” My voice shot up an octave. “I lied, okay? He owns me! Is that what you want to hear?” I slapped my hands against my thighs, frustration boiling over.

Riley’s shoulders shook as she tried and failed to contain her laughter. “Oh, I knew you were a weak bitch. I just didn’t want to say anything.” She raised her fist in the air. “Girl power and all.”

“You know what, heifer? Fuck you. I’m not a weak bitch. I got this. Watch.” I inhaled deeply, straightened my spine, and hit the talk button.

As I prepared myself for the conversation, my face smoothed into practiced confidence, my voice dripping with the kind of sugar-laced sweetness that could rot teeth. “Hey, babe,” I sang, my tone damn near honeyed poison.

Across from me, Riley shook her head, unimpressed.

There was a beat of silence, and then— “Where are you?” The low, lethal smoothness of Naeem’s voice slid through the receiver like silk over steel, and a shiver coasted down my spine.

Damn him. I swallowed.

“I’m out with Riley, running errands. Did you need something?”

“Yeah. You. I was looking for you when I got home. You were supposed to be my lunch. Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

Shit. My wide-eyed, panicked gaze shot to Riley, and she grinned like the worst best friend ever while mouthing, “Tell him!”

I scowled, whispering forcefully. “Hell no.”

“What was that? I didn’t hear you,” Naeem said, pulling my focus right back to him.

My tongue darted out to wet my lips, and I gripped the phone tighter. “I… I said I didn’t know I had to.”

Silence.

And then— “Tatum.”

My name curled off his tongue slowly, each syllable drawn out like he had all the time in the world to make me regret every decision I’d made today. I sucked in a breath, suddenly too aware of how hot it had gotten in the cramped bathroom stall.

“Yes?” I whispered.

Naeem exhaled hard through his nose. “You’re trying my patience. Do you remember what happens when it wears thin?”

My core clenched at the warning, and my thighs pressed together like a traitorous bitch. I loved punishment—but only when he let me cum. The days he didn’t? He could go to hell. That wasn’t something I’d ever forgive him for again.

And Naeem knew it.

That was why he enjoyed it.

“You punish me,” I breathed, my body heating with heady anticipation despite myself.

A low chuckle rumbled through the line, and the sound sent a fresh wave of arousal straight to my core.

“Do you want me to punish you?”

My breath stuttered, my lips parting involuntarily. I could see it already—the dark gleam in his eyes, the slow, measured drag of his belt leaving his waist, the quiet command that always left me trembling.

I exhaled, forcing my voice to stay steady. “No, my king.” I tried to whisper, but Riley heard me anyway.

Her jaw hit the fucking floor, and she stared at me, clutching her chest as if I’d personally wounded her.

“Oh, bitch—” she whispered-shouted. “Not. My. King! Who the fuck are you right now?”

I ignored her, my pulse hammering as I waited for Naeem’s response, but only silence stretched between us.

Then— “That’s what I thought. Now, get your ass home, and don’t make me have to call you again.”

And then—click.

The line went dead.

I stood frozen, my phone still pressed to my ear as I tried to process what the hell just happened.

However, that didn’t last long because Riley smacked my arm. “Girl, what the fuck was that?”

I blinked, shell-shocked, my brain still rebooting like a glitchy-ass computer. “ I-I don’t know.” My voice was foreign, even to my own ears. “I think I just got mind-fucked.”

Riley snorted, shaking her head. “He got you fucked, period. You folded like a goddamn lawn chair.”

I scowled and shoved my phone into my bag. “Shut up, Riley. Damn!”

She grinned. “Nah, my king.”

I groaned, dragging my hand down my face, knowing she was never gonna let me live this down.

Riley crossed her arms, tilting her head. “Sooo… does this mean our plans are canceled? Because last time I checked, when Naeem says ‘get your ass home,’ it usually means your ass is on a one-way trip to Lockdown City.”

My eye twitched. I couldn’t let Riley be right. Not when she was calling me out. Besides, I did say Naeem didn’t run shit, right? Okay, maybe he did, but time with my girls was worth the risk.

I lifted my head high, forcing my lingering nerves into submission. “No! We’re still going,” I replied, and Riley’s lips pursed, her eyes narrowing.

“Are we really?”

“Yes.” I tossed the pregnancy test in the trash and pulled my purse higher on my shoulder.

“Girl! Pick that up! That can go in my baby’s scrapbook.” Riley unrolled some tissue and broke off a piece before retrieving the test from the trash.

“You keep it then. I plan to tell Naeem, but not right now. I want to live a little before he finds out.”

“I hear you, but let’s be real. Naeem is observant as hell. He probably already knows your period hasn’t come. It’s best you go ahead and tell him.” She wrapped the test in more tissue while shaking her head.

“If he knew, he would’ve said something by now, so I’m good.”

“Um-hmm. We’ll see. Don’t fuck around and find out.” Riley replied as she dropped the test in her Birkin. “Anyway, let’s get out of here before your king pops up. He probably got a tracker on that ass and you don’t even know it.”

I shot her a glare. “Whatever. I told you Naeem doesn’t own me.”

Riley raised her hand like she was about to pray over my delusion. “Hold on. Let me record this real quick.”

She pulled out her phone, hit the screen to record, and looked at me with a straight face.

“Go ahead and say it again. I need this on video, because in about an hour, when he calls and your whole voice switches up, I want to remind you that you said this with your whole chest.”

I grabbed the phone and stuffed it in my bag before she got too comfortable. “Let’s go before I change my mind and leave your ass here.”

Riley laughed, sliding her arm through mine. “Girl, how? I’m the one driving today. You rode with me.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” I rolled my eyes.

It took us ten minutes to get to our next destination, and the valet had barely shut the car door before Riley was tugging at her hem and fixing her gloss in the side mirror.

“Can you not act like we’re walking into the Met Gala?” I asked, smoothing the front of my jacket.

She glanced at me. “First of all, this is Sip Symphony, not Waffle House. Fuck Met Gala. You know this is me every day. I put that shit on, and turn heads.”

“Girl, whatever.” I giggled, knowing my best friend meant business.