#1|𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧
In the labyrinth of shadows where the clandestine dance with fate, two souls emerge, each harboring secrets darker than the night that cloaks them. "Inamorata," the cutting-edge opus of intrigue and desire, weaves a tale...
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"How much is it going to take to get there?"
Shivaay questioned the chauffeur who was driving the car through the abandoned road that goes through the woods towards Waghmare's nearest cold house, where the said girl was kept.
"Five minutes...sir." Shivaay's jaw ticked in irritation.
One swore to his throne that lay underneath that if the girl was not worth it, he was going to kill that fucking Osin and then dip his head in the Acheron and feed it to Cerburbus.
The other was ready for another battle in her life—perhaps a bargain to sell herself, for burning revenge—a rage to be quenched, so each of them was seated with anticipation of what was to come.
Aadhisha was made to sit on the single chair. In front of her were stanley sofas, tea table, and carpet, She was stoked to see all these arrangements made—that too in a fucking cold house.
"Who is this Raizada...?" Aadhisha murmured under her breath because people were going haywire, running here and there, arranging things that were actually unnecessary.
Even in the days of her duty as I.A.S. in Jammu, she never found any details or records named under Raidazas', but there were always roumours flying here and there about 'that' family; it always felt like taking that family's name is a huge taboo.
Aadhisha was pulled back earth, and as soon as Nilam clapped her hands in Aadhisha's face, Nilam had this very annoying look on her face.
"W-what—"
"Mr. Raidaza is here; behave properly if want a chance at life, okay? Things do not go as you think in this dark world , so hold your tongue while speaking to him."
Aadhisha reluctantly nodded when—
In the fully redecorated, cold house, the air hung heavy with anticipation as the doors swung open, revealing the imposing figure of the mafia king, Shivaay Inayat Raizada. Dressed in a tailored suit that spoke of power and authority, Shivaay's steely gaze swept the room, commanding respect from those gathered within.
At the center of the room sat a young woman, her posture tense yet determined. Her name was Aadhisha, as he remembers, and she was the commodity offered to Shivaay as payment for a debt owed by her family—Osin.
Despite her fear, she refused to let it show; her chin lifted defiantly as she met Shivaay's gaze head-on. Aadhisha was surprised at his enigmatic beauty, especially by his emerald eyes; he was everything a woman could die for to be beside him.
Silence enveloped the room as Shivaay approached, his footsteps echoing against the cold stone floor. His piercing eyes locked onto Aadhisha's browns, assessing her with a mix of curiosity and calculation. She held herself with an air of defiance that intrigued him, a stark contrast to the submissive demeanor he had expected.
