Isa heard her feelings crack as if they had shattered all over the floor. He knew he wasn’t a Prince Charming type. He came off callous and cold. His love language hadn’t been discovered yet. It definitely wasn’t one out of the book he saw Aria reading at night. His love language was protection. He guarded everything that meant something to him. Aria was an asset in his life; therefore, she had a shooter on her team. Before she even knew he would wage wars over her, it was already established. He knew she would be something special when he first saw her onstage, and when she gave him attitude while walking by him all those years ago, Isa knew she had potential. The chase had been a plus because it proved she wasn’t easy. She was a challenge, and when he finally caught her, he realized she was a diamond among stones. You protect a jewel. Especially the rare ones, so Isa went into beast mode with her. Any other nigga that got close got snuffed, because she was his whether she knew it or not. His way might not have been conventional, but it was his expression of love. He didn’t have a mushy bone in his body. If she wanted romance, he wasn’t the one for her, but that protection she had for life. He rose from the couch and walked up behind her. He wrapped tattooed arms around her small frame, bending some because she was so short.

“Stop, Isa,” she said softly. Yeah, she was upset. Aria didn’t do anything soft. She hid behind a tough-girl façade.

“You know what it is with us, Ali,” Isa said, moving her hair out the way so he could kiss the back of her neck. He bit her, teeth sinking into her shoulder just enough to cause a slight pinch. “Don’t you?”

She turned to him and took the paintbrush and painted a wide smile on his face.

He grimaced and nodded before bringing the blunt to his lips, then puffed it between red paint, staining the tip. She laughed.

“You stay on bullshit,” he said, tilting his head back and blowing smoke into the air.

“You on some clown shit; thought I’d put your face on for you,” Aria stated. “Don’t be evasive with me. I always knew I’d either marry for love or marry for money. I’m not against either—just let me know what it is. If all I am is sex to you, then you can be my bank.”

Fire danced in his eyes. The equivalent to reducing her to a loveless wife was reducing him to a lick.

“Don’t like that, huh?” Aria asked.

“I ain’t tricked on a bitch ever,” Isa stated.