Page 65 of All's Fair In Love & War

“Go on.”

“Mrs. Bulgari is at Sip Symphony—that new lounge down on Fourth and Newport with Ms. Sophia and Ms. Riley. We’ve been here since this afternoon.”

My jaw locked, and I breathed fire through my nose. Tatum had all the time in the world to sit inside a bar, but couldn’t respond to my calls or texts. When did she get so comfortable that she thought it was okay to ignore me?

I leaned forward, gripping the edge of my desk. My voice stayed calm, but the anger underneath was impossible to miss. “Keep an eye on her. Don’t interfere unless you have to.”

“Yes, sir,” Jayce said quickly. “One more thing—I saw Dallas Veneto approach their table. I let the women handle it. Didn’t want to blow my cover, since Mrs. Bulgari isn’t supposed to know I’m detailing her.”

“And you let him get close?” I asked finally.

“No one was touched, especially your wife, Sir. He walked up, said something, then walked away just as fast.”

My grip on the desk didn’t loosen. “I don’t give a fuck about him not touching her. Breathing the same air as my wife is a violation. Next time, I don’t care if she puts a gun to your head—if Dallas gets within arm’s reach of my wife, you handle it.”

“Yes, sir.”

I released a breath through my nose. “Keep your distance, but if he’s still there when they leave, follow him.”

“Understood.”

I ended the call and sat in silence for a beat, staring at the dark screen. Dallas. I hated muthafucka and everything associated with that name. The Dallas Cowboys. The Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders. The Dallas Mavericks. Dallas, that old ass soap opera with the oil tycoons. Hell, I hated thecityof Dallas, and I’d never even been. Fuck Dallas, Georgia, too. Nobody even heard of that shit anyway.

My fingers flexed against the edge of the desk, but I didn’t move until I had full control of my rage again. I stood, grabbed my coat, and headed out. There were some things a phone couldn’t handle. My presence spoke louder.

By the time I pulled up to Sip Symphony, the sun had dipped behind the skyline, casting long shadows over the sidewalk. The bar sat on a strip in the Lower East Side, right at the edge of Veneto territory, surrounded by luxury high-rises and designer shops. It was upscale, sure, but it catered to the boughetto—the bougie ratchet who knew how to put that shit on, pop bottles, and dance like life hadn’t been beating their ass all week.

As soon as I stepped inside Sip Symphony, the energy shifted. The bass didn’t just hit; it moved through the walls, syncing with the LED lights embedded in the ceiling. The place looked like luxury met the future and agreed to keep it sexy.

High-gloss black floors reflected streaks of neon blue and violet, enveloping the room in a soft, vibrant color. The wallswere smooth and dark, lit by geometric strips that changed hue with the music, casting just enough light to make skin glow and jewelry dance.

The bar stretched along one side with glass shelves stacked with backlit bottles, pink and purple lighting illuminating the liquor like art. Tables were sleek and black, with glowing cylinders in the center that flickered between shades of indigo and red.

People weren’t just standing around trying to look important. They danced. They vibed. They poured shots and made memories they’d lie about the next day. It was the spot you flexed for on social media and revisited when you wanted to feel untouchable. Sip Symphony was a vibe, and every person inside seemed to match its energy.

The owner, Tolo, a man in his forties who was once cool with my pops, approached wearing a fresh fade, an expensive blue suit, a gold chain tucked under his collar, and a nervous smile.

“Naeem. Didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“I won’t be long,” I said, reaching out to shake his hand.

It was quick and firm, excluding any small talk, and he knew that was the end of our conversation. Tolo stepped aside without another word. Smartest thing he could’ve done. I didn’t fuck with him like that, and he damn sure knew it.

Years ago, when I was just a youngin’ getting into shit I had no business in, he was always running to my pops, snitching about what he saw or heard. There was nothing harmless about it. He was a rat, plain and simple. And in my world, that label stuck. Didn’t matter how much time had passed.

Once a snitch, always a snitch.

I slowly scanned the room, and my eyes landed on Tatum almost immediately. She was on the dance floor, her back to me, hips moving to the beat as if the melody was made only for her.The crowd pulsed around her, but she stood out like a flame in a room full of smoke—unbothered, untouched, and completely in her own world. People gravitated to her without realizing it, pulled in by strings they couldn’t see, only felt.

I couldn’t look away. No matter how angry I was, no matter how much she pushed me, she still did something to me I couldn’t explain. I could watch her from across a room and feel her under my skin. She stirred my soul. She made the air shift. And even if she drove me mad, I’d still drink her bath water without blinking.

I moved through the crowd with quiet precision, weaving between tables and half-drunken laughter, never taking my eyes off her. Tatum hadn’t noticed me yet. She was too wrapped up in the music, the moment, and the freedom she thought she had. That gave me the advantage.

She stood with her back to me, hips rolling in slow, deliberate movements, unaware that every step I took was pulling me deeper under her spell. I closed the distance, letting the rhythm of the music mask my presence.

I was close enough now to catch the soft scent of her perfume. It was tropical with a hint of spice—the kind of scent that clung to your clothes and stayed with you long after she was gone.

When my hand found her waist, she didn’t tense, nor did she turn. She just kept moving, like her body had been waiting for mine. Like some part of her already knew it was me before her mind had the chance to catch up. It was instinct. Familiar. That silent recognition that lived in the space between us, always waiting to catch fire the moment we got too close.

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