Before the crowds screamed his name, before the league talks and the magazine covers, he met her. Calista Marchand. Not the kind of girl you run game on. She was sharp where it counted, soft only when she wanted to be. Real Brooklyn - pretty in the face, slick with the mouth, and solid with her hands if you stepped wrong. She kept her circle small, her loyalty tighter. The kind of woman who knew how to turn silence into safety and side-eyes into shut-ups. Men feared her. Girls tried to be her. She didn't chase, didn't fold, didn't need nobody. Until Ibrahim Montaigne walked into her life like he had all the time in the world. He didn't come with sweet nothings or flashy promises - just steady presence. Intent in his eyes, patience in his chest, and something rare behind the way he looked at her. Like he saw through the polish and the fire, like he knew the woman behind the defense. He didn't try to tame her. He studied her. Let her be exactly who she was. The shift was slow. She still fought when needed, still had a rep in the streets and in the salon chair. But somewhere between nursing exams and late-night block parties, she started saving parts of herself just for him. The quiet parts. The delicate ones. The ones nobody else got close to. And when she crossed that graduation stage, RN-BSN stitched behind her name and her grandmother crying in the crowd - he bragged harder than anyone. Didn't care who was listening. Forget MVP, forget the championship rings. She was the win. She was the headline. The girl from Brooklyn with spitfire in her lungs, gold in her smile, and a softness only he ever got to see. This isn't a story about being chosen. It's about choosing each other. No fairytales. Just Brooklyn grit and a love that never let go.

"Your gun, Christian," I whispered breathlessly, the reality of who he was momentarily flashing in my mind. Even in bed, he was a dangerous man. He didn't stop. I felt the vibration of a low, dark smile against my skin before he spoke, his voice grazing my ear. "Gun's under the pillow," he whispered. ౨ৎ Lelani, 20 never asked for chaos. She wanted a quiet life, a clean future, and a chance to finally breathe. Christian, 24 was the kind of man she promised herself she would never get close to dangerous, secretive, and tied to a world she has no business stepping into. But fate doesn't care about warnings. And he's not good at letting go. Something about her pulls him in. Something about him keeps her from walking away. All she knows is this: The boy she shouldn't want is the only one who touches her right.

"Baby you on my mind Long as we spending time, girl 'cause (I gotta be next to you) Baby you on my mind Long as we spending time, girl 'cause (I gotta be next to you)"

𝘓𝘎𝘉𝘛𝘘 𝘗𝘖𝘊 , 𝘖𝘕𝘌 𝘚𝘏𝘖𝘛𝘚 & 𝘐𝘔𝘈𝘎𝘐𝘕𝘌𝘚. 𝘙𝘌𝘘𝘜𝘌𝘚𝘛 𝘈𝘙𝘌 𝘖𝘗𝘌𝘕. 💕 𝐆!𝐏 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐃. ‼️

❝𝘐'𝘮 𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘢, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩, 𝘜𝘩-𝘶𝘩. 𝘎𝘭𝗂𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘭. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩.❞ -𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 #1 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘤𝘬

She talk to much, She invade to much, And she's most of all to comfortable. He's mean, He's the plug And most of all I like him.

" ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇᴅ ꜱᴏᴜʟ " 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙖𝙩 𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙚 , 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣, 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙨𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙨 𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙚

"𝐈𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧' 𝐰𝐢𝐭 𝐀'𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐚"

"𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯' 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯' 𝘸𝘪𝘵' 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮"

"ᴡᴀꜱꜱᴀᴍ ʙᴀʙʏ"