Armanii is Jamaica's newest dancehall star lighting up the charts and your TikTok feed, but don't get it twisted, he's over the "internet artiste" label and dead serious about proving he's the real deal. Behind the hype, the chains, and the stage lights? A man dealing with the cold, quiet side of fame. Then boom! Alisa Miller enters the chat. Straight out of New York, privacy and unbothered girl in her own lane. Love? Not on her to-do list. She's focused, intentional, and allergic to drama. So how do they end up next to each other on a flight to Jamaica? One little seat mix up and suddenly it's vibes, side-eyes, and unexpected sparks. She's not here for the noise, but Armanii? He's intrigued. One missed DM, one flight, and suddenly he's chasing more than just hit songs. Thing is, Alisa's quiet life and Armanii's loud world? Oil and water. Paparazzi, secrets, temptation, and trust issues? That's just Tuesday. But maybe, just maybe, the right kind of chaos can make the sweetest music. So buckle up because this love story is messy, magnetic, and way too real. And yuh see Armani and Alisa? Dem might just be each other's favorite Rough Patch.

He was her rock, her best friend, her first love. He became her worst nightmare, her tormentor, her captor She was his everything. His obsession. Their story should have ended with that court case, but he's found a way back to her, and he won't give her another opportunity to escape. Not this time. ------------------------------------------- Shivering, I sobbed out, unable to speak, unable to move. "Shh, shh, now baby-girl, it's alright, you're safe, don't cry" he soothed, moving closer to me. "N-Noah, I w-want to go home," I sobbed, feeling weak from my inability to talk without stuttering. A gasp left my parted lips as his hand forcefully connected with my cheek, "You are home, so I don't want to hear that crap from you, okay?" shaking, I looked down at my feet, his gaze too menacing to hold. "I said, do you understand" he spit through clenched teeth, "y-yes, I'm sorry" I whispered, a new wave of tears making their appearance. "Good girl, now I need you to keep being a good girl, okay?" nodding, my eyes met his dark ones. His form towered over me, making me feel small and irrelevant. "Words, Embry!" He demanded as I stuttered out a quiet yes. I studied him cautiously as he walked towards the far end of the room, shuffling through drawers before stalking back towards me and crouching down. I sucked in a breath as I saw the knife in his hand, his face held a mischievous grin as it glinted in the light. "Now baby-girl, you see, as much as I hate to, you need to be punished, do you know why?" Warning! This story is for mature audience, it contains strong language, abuse, mature themes and sensitive topics. Please enjoy, -Aphrodite.