“Ease up, Cuzzo,” he said, his voice low but edged calmly enough to sound sharp. “I’ll lay you out behind this one, on everything. Stop flirting with my wife. What you on?”
He lifted just a little, shifting his weight like a warning sign. His shoulders squared, his jaw tight, eyebrow raised up like he was inviting a choice and prepared for the consequences, daring his cousin to continue.
“Respect the line,” he added, his tone steady. “Play like that again, and we’re gonna have a whole lesson right here.”
His cousin laughed and raised his hands in mock surrender, retreating. “My fault, Roman. I’on want no smoke, fam. You got it.”
Mel laughed loud enough to draw stares. “Ms. Pureheart here never leaves the house unless it’s work or her granny’s appointments. I’ve been praying for this very moment. All praises be to the King of Kings, and the Lord our God. He iswon-der-ful.” This damn fool sang aloud.
Roman—because, of course, the universe would give a man likethat,a name so powerful—turned toward me with his eyes half-lidded. A soft grin tugged at his mouth like he already knew where this was headed. “We gon’ have to change that, wifey.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, forcing my voice to stay even, like my pulse wasn’t tapdancing.
He looked me up and down slowly—just appreciating with manners, then settled his gaze back on my face like that was where the real treasure was.
“Putting your pretty self in last place when you clearly number one,” he said, his tone warm but certain. “I got you though. That’s done. Consider it handled.”
I arched a brow, trying to hold on to my little bit of pride. “How you know I want anything to do with you, sir?”
His smile widened like he enjoyed the fight in me. He leaned closer, and the space between us tightened, the air turning thick with intention.
“Mmm,” he hummed, eyes dipping to my mouth for a heartbeat before returning to my eyes. “Call me that again.”
My breath caught like my lungs forgot the assignment God permitted for them. Heat climbed up my neck, blooming into my cheeks—loud, obvious, traitorous. He noticed. Of course, he did.
“I love how your freckles get all red when you get shy,” he said, voice deep, making me melt in my seat.
I turned back to the court before my brain misfired completely. “Can I enjoy the game, please?”
“Of course, love,” he said, chuckling. “Just answer me one thing . . . Where am I taking you after it’s over, beautiful?”
I choked on my drink. “I don’t know you!”
“That’s the point,” he said simply, like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. “I want to fix that.”
Mel covered her mouth, shaking with laughter. “Girl, he smooth like butter.”
I ignored them both and locked in on the court just in time to see Amil Baker, my favorite player, snatch a rebound, run it down the court, and dunk so hard the arena shook. The crowd jumped to its feet like one body, electricity rippling through the stands. I was on my feet screaming, all teacher composure gone.
“Let’s gooo!” I screamed, hands cupped around my mouth as if my lungs belonged to the Skylines.
Behind me, somebody in the opposing team’s jersey barked, “Aye, shorty, could you sit the fuck down already? Damn, I can’t see through yo?—”
Before the sentence could finish forming, Roman was already rising. Not fast or frantic, just inevitable.
He stepped between us like a door closing—broad shoulders, solid stance, his presence swallowing the space so completely it felt like the air itself changed its mind.
“Aye, watch your tone and your mouth when you speaking to her. You understand me?” he said, voice low, controlled, and lethal.
The man blinked, hands lifting in mock surrender. “Aight, man. Chill. Damn.”
Roman didn’t move back until the dude looked away first. When he did sit, it was smooth and unbothered, like he hadn’t just put fear in somebody’s chest with his voice. Then he turned to me, and his tone changed instantly, gentle. “You good, baby?”
I nodded, my cheeks hot for a whole new reason. “You didn’t have to?—”
“Yeah, I did,” he said, simple as truth. No speech, just a statement, as if protection was a reflex he didn’t debate.
Mel leaned across me, stage-whispering, “Lord, protectiveness looks good on a man.”
