Page 40 of All’s Fair In Love & War (The Bulgari Cartel #2)

Riley flipped the page. “Six months later, three men tied to the case ended up dead, one from a gas leak, another in a car fire, and the last crushed at a construction site. The police didn’t make any connections, but the timing was too perfect.

Each death lined up with the kind of stuff she used to build in school.

I talked to one of her old professors, pretending to be a researcher, and he confirmed Nova had done projects on gas pressure systems, vehicle ignition triggers, and structural weak points. ”

Sophia raised an eyebrow. “So she basically used her class projects as practice?”

Riley nodded. “Yeah. If she wanted to send a message, she did it without leaving a trace.”

“Brains… I like that," I said, smiling as I stared at Nova. “Room 18.”

“Roselyn ‘Ro’ Vance, thirty. Grew up in the system. Had a baby at fifteen who was taken by the state. She taught herself family law through online paralegal courses and fought for custody. She won, but lost her again when her man got knocked on RICO charges. Before the feds could seize anything, she disappeared with six figures of his hidden stash, unaware he worked for your family.”

Riley looked up at me, and I could tell she wanted to know what I was thinking.

“Keep going,” I said, keeping my voice neutral.

“Your father sent people after her, and from what I hear, she and her daughter barely escaped. Since then, she’s been off-grid, working at a corner store in West End.

Her ex taught her about surveillance, system rerouting, and data scrubbing.

We tapped into the system a month ago. Surveillance reroutes led to a backroom IP.

The camera showed Ro there every night, alone, typing.

Sophia traced her burner accounts and found she’s been ordering custom components in cash, using abandoned identities. ”

“She’s protecting herself and her daughter,” Riley said. “She’s watching for Genevese movement, mapping known affiliates, and tracking plates. If anyone so much as circles the block twice, she’ll know. She wasn’t just hiding. She was making sure no one ever got the drop on them again.”

“If that’s the case, how did we get her?” I asked as I turned around to look at Riley.

“We caught her slipping one night,” Riley said.

“Her daughter was sick. Ro left the store in a rush and forgot to shut down the surveillance reroute. One of our guys flagged the traffic spike and moved in before she could fix it. We had eyes on her, followed her home, and waited for the right moment.”

“When she came out for groceries, we snatched her,” Sophia added.

For the next hour, we meticulously sifted through the remaining ladies’ profiles. The process was thorough. Each woman was carefully examined and discussed. As we concluded our review, the clipboard in my hands was marked with six names, each circled in bold red ink.

I pressed the intercom. "Move to phase two," I said.

Sophia and Riley grinned at each other, feeding off my energy. Kairo gave a less enthusiastic fist pump, but even he couldn’t hide a little smile as he walked off and disappeared through the door that led down to the holding rooms.

A few minutes passed, and the rhythmic clatter of boots and the jangling of cuffs reverberated up the narrow stairwell.

Soon, the six women emerged into view, each accompanied by two of my guards.

Their hoods had been stripped away, revealing their faces.

Some were etched with expressions ranging from seething rage to wary suspicion, while others wore masks of icy indifference.

And although their heads were uncovered, their wrists remained tightly bound with zip ties.

Chyna was first to enter the room. Her jaw was tight, eyes locked dead on me as if she was calculating how to take me out.

Nova followed calmly, but carefully, her gaze sweeping the room as if it were a crime scene.

Then came Ro with her head high, eyes sharp, and lips pressed together like every word she wanted to say had been boiled down to a single “fuck you.”

The other three trailed in behind them, all with stories and fire of their own, but Chyna, Nova, and Ro were the problems. Those three would need more convincing.

“Who the hell are you, and why the hell did you kidnap us?” Chyna asked, her eyes shooting daggers at me, Sophia, and Riley.

“Take a seat,” I said, pointing them toward the long, low conference table.

The assembled chairs were mostly rickety, but none of the women seemed to care if the metal bit into their thighs when they sat.

Chyna stayed standing, cracking her neck with a disdainful sweep side to side. “Nah, I’m good,” she said. “Standing works for me.”

Ro seemed to weigh the odds of a fight before sitting with arms crossed, back rigid, and legs squared as her eyes roamed over every person in the room. Nova took the seat closest to the exit, cataloguing every threat.

“Let me start with an apology,” I said, dropping into the only padded chair and letting my coat fall open so they could see my lack of gun, badge, or any other official threat.

“I didn’t bring you here to humiliate or break you.

I brought you here to see who could survive under pressure, who could handle the unknown, and who had what it takes to sit at the top beside me. ”

Ro crossed her arms. “That’s not an apology. That’s justification.”

“You’re right.” I nodded. “I’m sorry for the fear, the confusion, and the violence.

I wouldn’t want that done to me, but I also know what it takes to build something powerful in a world where women like us are often underestimated, forgotten, or taken advantage of.

I needed to be sure you weren’t just tough. I needed to know you were unbreakable.”

“You could’ve asked,” Chyna snapped.

“And you could’ve lied,” I said, meeting her glare with one of my own. “Everyone plays a role when they think someone’s watching. I needed to see who you were when you knew you had no one coming to save you, and what I saw impressed the hell out of me.”

They looked at each other, still unsure.

“Look, I’m not here to manipulate you or turn you into mindless soldiers. I’m offering you a seat at my table, where you’ll gain power, protection, and enough money to change the direction of your entire bloodline.”

I glanced at Nova. “You won’t ever need to hide your genius again.”

Shifting my gaze to Ro, I said, “You and your daughter don’t have to run or hide anymore. All is forgiven, and your slate has been wiped clean. You owe my family nothing.”

Ro didn’t look convinced. “And how do I know you’re not lying, and what gives you the authority to make that kind of decision?”

I grinned and sat up straighter. “I’m Don Tatum Genevese-Bulgari. I am the authority. The head bitch in charge. What I say goes.” I leaned forward, voice calm but final. “Any more questions?”

Ro stared at me for a beat longer, then slowly shook her head.

I looked at Chyna. “I’m not here to beg for loyalty,” I told her. “Or to convince you I’m different from the men you watched fall.”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak.

“I know your type. You don’t follow, you lead when it serves you, and disappear when it doesn’t, but all that ducking and dodging is small-time. I’m offering you a seat at a real table.”

Still nothing. But she was listening now.

“No more babysitting fools who can’t stay out of jail, and no more hustling for crumbs while some man fumbles the bag. I’m talking territory, respect, security, and power—with your name stamped on it.”

Finally, she scoffed. “What’s the catch?”

“You answer to me, and you keep my name clean. That’s it. You bring that cold strategy of yours to my team, and I’ll make sure nobody ever looks down on you again.”

She stared at me for a long second, then gave the faintest nod. “Guess we’ll see if you’re worth the hype.”

“Keep that energy. It suits you,” I replied, smirking as I addressed everyone.

“I’m offering you ladies something bigger than just a crew. I’m offering you family—one that can’t be torn down. One run by women who know what it means to lose everything and still stand.”

They were listening now, not just hearing, but really listening. Sophia stepped forward and placed a black duffel on the table, and Riley unzipped it, revealing stacks of cash.

“I have a hundred and fifty grand in that bag for each of you. If you choose to join me, great. If not, you can walk with the cash and never hear from me again,” I said, knowing damn well I couldn’t risk letting them walk away after finding out who I was.

“But if you join me, that number keeps growing. You take care of business. I’ll take care of you, and I can ensure you’ll never have to struggle or beg another soul for anything again. ”

Ro gazed at the money as if it were a trap. "You're really going to let us leave with all that cash?" she questioned, still doubtful. “I don't believe it.”

I shrugged. “Believe it or not, it’s no hard feelings on my part. I’ll make sure you’re dropped off in a safe location, but once you’re gone, you’re gone. You won't get another chance like this.”

“Count me in,” Meeka said, cool and certain.

She was a thirty-two-year-old, hood-born, ex-military sniper with bodies on every continent.

Came home with PTSD and a discharge paper in one hand, only to find out her husband had knocked up some girl and filed for divorce before she could even unpack.

Now she was gay and didn’t mess with men at all.

The hatred she carried for them showed every time one of them got too close.

I watched her tilt back in the chair, arms folded like she was ready to post up on a rooftop somewhere and pop a muthafucka for fun.

“Welcome to the family,” I said, and she grinned maniacally.

“I hope you got more firepower than just these hoes,” Chyna jabbed, but I saw the respect flicker in her eyes when she looked from Meeka to the rest of the ladies.

“We’ve got a whole armory,” Sophia answered, flashing a sharp smile. “If you don’t believe me, you’ll see.”

Nova reached for one of the stacks and thumbed through the edges with practiced nonchalance. “This real?” she murmured, almost to herself.

I nodded. “It’s real. If you want, you can have it tested. I’m not running a scam here.”

“Shame,” Nova said, “Would be a lot more interesting if it was.” She slipped the cash into her coat pocket and leaned back, finally at ease.

Chyna cackled, but then her face straightened, as if she’d remembered she didn’t trust me. “So. If we say yes, do we work for you or with you?”

“For me,” I said, slow and measured so even the doubters could gnaw on it. “Let’s not get it twisted. We’re not partners. This is my shit, and what I say goes. As fast as I put a smile on my face is as fast as I’ll put a bullet in your head if you cross me. The lines of power don’t blur here.”

Ro licked her lips, a nervous habit, then fixed her eyes on mine. “If I do this, my daughter’s safe? No crazy shit?”

“You’ll be returned to her as soon as we leave tonight,” I promised, “and nobody so much as looks her way unless it’s to pick her up from practice. You have my word.”

“Then I’m in,” she said without hesitation as she pulled her cash in front of her.

Everyone looked at Chyna.

She hadn’t moved, and her expression was calm, but not passive.

“You ain’t said nothing,” Meeka said, side-eyeing her. “You in or what?”

Chyna tapped her nails on the table slowly, then finally, she looked up at me. “You said the lines of power don’t blur, right?”

I nodded once.

“You’re the boss, but we’ll be taken care of, and you’ll treat us fairly.”

I didn’t flinch. “I will.”

Chyna rubbed her hands together and slid the money off the table into her hoodie. “Cool. Then I’m in, but if you ever treat me like a weak bitch, you might as well put a bullet in my head. I’ll die about my respect.”

I smirked. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

And just like that, the circle was formed.

My circle.

The beginning of something special.