𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨. 𝐈 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞. *this is my first book, please don't stress ya selves out bc I did while writing it! 😭

Janeisha "Neisha" Bambi has always survived by keeping a low profile. She don't get caught up in the kind of business that comes with bodies, secrets, and street names that echo. But all it takes is one night-one favor for her best friend-to slide her straight into the orbit of Seven "Saint" Carter. Saint is discipline wrapped in menace. A man the streets don't just respect,they fear. The type Neisha promised herself she'd never look at twice. He doesn't chase, beg, or explain. Yet somehow, he does all of this for her. And when that calm, unreadable gaze settles on Neisha, her careful world starts to crack. Now Saint's patience is running out, Neisha's defenses are falling apart and the pull between them is starting to feel less like a choice and more like fate. He's trying to shield her from the life he lives. She's trying to decide if loving him is salvation or self-destruction.

❛𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒆?❜ he asked, voice low like it wasn't meant for nobody but her. 𝒛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐡 didn't speak, just tilted her head a little and stepped in close. she traced one of the tattoos on his arm, finger light like a whisper...when she finally looked up, slow and lazy, doe eyes glinting beneath her lashes--she kissed the corner of his mouth. once, twice--then pulled back. 𝒐𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢 smirked. ❛𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒔𝒐.❜ ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ She doesn't speak-not out loud, not anymore. Zariah Hart's been quiet since the night she lost everything, and moving to The Palisade at Skyview Apartments was supposed to give her a fresh start. No expectations. No questions. Just peace. But peace gets complicated when a man like Omarion Jordan starts showing up in it. He's nothing like she expected. Tatted, quiet, with eyes that read people better than they speak. A mechanic with a past he doesn't explain-and a presence that says more than his mouth does. He doesn't ask about her silence. She doesn't flinch at his reputation. Somehow, that's enough. What starts as simple glances turns into shared space. What feels like comfort turns to something neither of them planned for. But Atlanta doesn't forget what people try to bury. And sometimes, the loudest truth is the one you never say out loud. 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃: 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

"You got three seconds to open this door before I kick that bitch in," a deep voice growled through the wood. Zamara's heart jumped. She wasn't expecting nobody-especially not a man with a voice that rough and mean. "Nigga, who the fuck-" she started, yanking the door open. And immediately regretted it. He stood there like a shadow from hell. Tall. Broad. Tatted. And mad as fuck. A black hoodie hugged his body, revealing a Glock tucked at his hip. "Where. The fuck. Is Kyndall?" he asked low and slow. Zamara crossed her arms over her chest, attitude activated. "I don't know, and I damn sure ain't scared of you standing here mean-mugging like you somebody daddy." A smirk curled on his lips. "You should be scared, ma." Then he leaned in, real close. "But lucky for you... I don't hit women. I just fuck 'em crazy and make sure they don't walk right for three days." Her breath caught, but her mouth didn't. "Boy, please." "You gon' be sayin that from my bed soon. Watch."

𝐇𝐈𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄.