Page 7 of All’s Fair In Love & War (The Bulgari Cartel #2)

Predator Or Prey?

Felicity

Once again, I found myself confined within the narrow boundaries of my prison cell, perched on the edge of the cot, the stench of neglect hanging in the air, thick enough to choke on.

It crawled up my nose and settled in my lungs like dust. My skin itched as if a thousand tiny ants were crawling all over me, and time seemed to drag on with excruciating slowness.

When the door creaked open behind me, I turned my head, expecting to see Khalil with a scowl carved deep into his face. However, this time, it wasn’t him. It was a woman, and she moved inside the room as if she were the Bulgari estate’s first lady.

I quickly sat up, my feet hitting the floor as I studied her. “Who the fuck are you?” I asked, looking her up and down, making sure she caught every ounce of attitude I had to offer.

The longer I looked, the more my lip curled in disgust. She was beautiful—fine in that effortlessly dangerous way.

And listen, I’m not a hater, so I can admit that.

However, her looks didn’t mean shit to me.

I wasn’t paying attention to her beauty; I was clocking her features, and nothing about her face screamed Bulgari.

She didn’t resemble that half-breed bastard upstairs, which told me one thing loud and clear—this chick wasn’t family.

So why the fuck was she here? And why would Khalil think sending her down to deal with me was a bright idea?

I might not be built for brawling, but I’d still claw that bitch’s eyes out without hesitation.

Khalil might be tall, muscled, and caramel fine—okay, that’s not the point.

The point is, he’s a man. I can’t take him.

But her ? We’re even. And if she thought she was gonna walk in here and garner the same fear he does, she was about to catch a rude-ass awakening. I’d fold her like laundry on a Sunday.

She raised a brow, clearly entertained by my disrespect. “I’m the woman keeping the wolves at bay so your little ass can keep breathing. You should be bowing at my feet.” She slammed the door, leaned against it, and winked.

“You got the wrong one. I’ll never bow to a glorified whore with delusions of importance,” I replied, and the woman’s smile sharpened into something sinister.

“I’m a lot more than that, baby. I’m that bitch. If you dropped the attitude, I might teach you a thing or two.”

“Who the fuck said I needed your help?” I snapped because the bitch didn’t know who she was talking to.

She tilted her head, her eyes softening like she pitied me. “Nobody, baby. But if you didn’t need help, you wouldn’t be locked in this freezing-ass basement, barefoot in a damn bathing suit, looking like regret and three bad decisions stacked on top of each other.”

That touched a nerve, but I didn’t let it show. Instead, I kept my face blank and my arms crossed, so she’d know I was one bad mood away from turning this entire house upside down.

“Don’t worry about me,” I muttered. “I’ll survive just fine.”

She snorted. “Cute. But survival ain’t the same as winning. And right now, you’re losing—loudly. Throwing tantrums in a man’s house like you forgot where you are. Grow the fuck up. Learn to play the long game, or stay losing.”

“No, you won’t,” she said, cool as ever. “And surviving isn’t the same as winning, so grow the fuck up. Instead of throwing tantrums, what you should be doing is playing the long game.”

I rolled my eyes. “And I bet you think you’re the one to teach it to me, huh?”

She stepped closer, heels clicking, voice low and razor-sharp. “No, baby. I’m the one who decides whether you get a seat at the table… or end up under it. That’s why they sent me in here.”

I lifted my chin. “I doubt it, so be real. Why are you here? Did Khalil send you to babysit?”

She smiled—barely. “Nah. I was sent here to talk you into getting with the program.”

"And how are you supposed to do that?" I snapped as I stood, preparing for war.

The woman arched an eyebrow and grinned. "Have a seat, baby. I don’t tussle. I get money, I dominate rooms, and I make men eat out of the palm of my hand. Fighting is beneath me. If I wanted to hurt you, I’d send the very man who’s holding you captive to do it."

“You mean my fiancé?” I asked, and I could tell by the expression that crossed her face that I’d caught her off guard.

However, she schooled her features so quickly that I thought that I might have been seeing things. “Yes, your fiancé. And do you want to know why he would do what I say?”

“Why? Because you swallow his dick whole without choking?”

“That’s one of the reasons.” She shrugged with absolutely no shame. “But it’s not the most important one.

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Please enlighten me with your powerful pussy secrets,” I replied sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

The woman smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Contrary to what you might believe, I don’t need to fuck Khalil to hold my weight.

I know what keeps him up at night. I know what moves him, what rattles him, and what’ll make him snap.

That’s not just pussy power, baby—that’s battlefield war strategy. ”

“I don’t beg men to take me seriously. I don’t have to raise my voice, throw a punch, or flash my ass to get what I want.

I walk into a room, and the temperature changes.

That’s not sex appeal, sweetheart. That’s presence, and you, too, have what it takes.

You just need to learn how to use what you have to get what you want. ”

I scoffed. “Sounds like ego to me.”

She tilted her head. “Call it what you want, but while you’re busy trying to claw your way out of here with attitude and pride, I’m walking through front doors nobody thought I’d survive in. That’s the difference.”

I didn’t respond—not because I didn’t have a comeback, but because something in her voice sounded real . She wasn’t performative, and her words didn’t come off rehearsed. What she’d said and how she’d said it told me that it was the truth.

The woman stepped further into the room, her arms still crossed, watching me like I was a wild animal.

“You don’t scare easily,” she said finally, and it didn’t sound like an insult.

“Neither do you,” I replied, the edge in my voice dulling just a little.

She gave a small shrug, arms still crossed, eyes scanning the room like she was sizing it—and me—up. “I’m Tandy, by the way.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Okay? And why the hell should I care?”

“You shouldn’t.” Her lips curled into the faintest smirk. “But since I’m the only one down here trying to put you on game, you might want to listen.”

I stared at her, jaw tightening. “Go on, then. You have the floor.” I waved my hand around the room.

She exhaled like she was already tired of the dance. “Look, I’m not your therapist. I don’t care about your trauma, and I’m definitely not your friend. I’m here because Naeem offered me ten grand to talk some sense into you,” she said, the truth rendering me speechless for a second.

She nodded slowly. “Yeah. That’s right. I came down here to stare at your pissed-off ass, hoping to talk some sense into you.”

I blinked, caught between offense and admiration as she continued to lean against the wall, cool as ever.

“They didn’t send me down here because I’m soft. They sent me because the woman I am is the woman they expect you to be, and I’m not here to manipulate you by telling you anything different. I’m here to put you on game, but I’m not sure you’re hearing me.”

I sat up straighter on the cot, one brow raised. “Oh, I heard you loud and clear. Were you expecting a thank you?”

“Please.” Tandy laughed. “I don’t need gratitude. I need you to wake up, because whether you like it or not, you’ve been drafted into a war where the wrong move doesn’t just cost you—it costs everybody connected to you.”

That made me pause and tilt my head. “And what makes you think I care about any of them?”

“You don’t have to.” Her tone didn’t change. “But if you care about you , the version of you that still wants to come out of this alive, with some dignity left, you need to stop acting like you’re starring in a box office movie. You aren’t the main character here, baby. Not yet.”

Something about that stung, and not because she was wrong. Because she was right .

I leaned back, arms crossed. “So what, you think I should just bow down to Khalil? Play house and pretend I’m happy?”

Tandy chuckled, low and dry. “Hell no. That’s not what I’m saying.

I’d never tell a woman to shrink. I’m telling you to play smarter.

You can be loud, but make it count. You can be dangerous, but only if you learn when to strike.

And Khalil?” She paused, eyes narrowing.

“He’s not the final boss. He’s just the first one that thinks he’s already won. ”

Judging from the expression on her face, I could tell she’d expected me to have a rebuttal, but I stayed quiet because, for once, I wanted to hear everything.

Tandy reached inside her bag and removed a joint. “Now that we’ve got the introductions out of the way, wanna smoke?” She asked as she brought the lighter to her weed.

My mouth watered at the sight—but not for the Kush.

It was the thought of getting high — really high—the kind that burned behind your eyes and made your soul feel quiet for once.

My bones ached for it. Crossing my arms over my waist, I leaned forward, every nerve in my body leaning with me, straining toward the promise of oblivion as the drugs called out to me like an old lover I swore I’d never see again.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to fight back the tears the ache in my bones had caused. “Weed won’t do. I need something stronger.”

Silence stretched between us, and when I opened my eyes, Tandy was watching me, not with pity, but with thought. Like she was weighing her options… or maybe my worth.

She reached into her purse and slowly pulled out a small orange bottle, her fingers dancing along the label before she popped the cap with a soft click. The sound alone made my breath catch.

“These are my mama’s,” she said. “Just filled the prescription today. She takes them when her anxiety gets too bad to pretend she’s okay.”

She shook one into her palm and held it out to me. I stared at the small, white pill. Could it be peace in capsule form?

“What is it?” I asked, already knowing.

“Xanax,” she said. “Nothing crazy. Just enough to take the edge off.”

My mouth went dry, and my body screamed yes before my pride had a chance to intervene.

“Why are you giving it to me?” I asked, still staring.

“Because you’re shaking like a leaf and trying to play it cool. Because you’re not gonna be able to think straight, let alone plot your next move, if you’re crawling out of your own skin.”

She stepped closer. “And because if you’re gonna survive Khalil Bulgari, baby, you better figure out how to move like you’re in control, even when you’re not.”

My fingers hovered over her palm.

“Your choice,” she said. “Take it, or don’t, but remember, a calm bitch is a dangerous one. Do you want to be the prey or the predator?”