#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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"Right now, its already 1:30 A.M"
Aadhisha looked at Shivaay, softly throwing the papers on the already-piled desk. Time passed fast since early morning, and they started planning the attack on that cold house in the conference room.
"Yeah. Its too late, isn't it?"
Shivaay looked over to her, watching her walk towards him in that sexy, tight fit over all. She had her hair tied up, which was messy, letting a few strands fall on her face.
"Hmm...Shivaay?"
Aadhisha called him out, resting her elbow and leaning on the glass table. In return, he raised a brow, looking at her amusingly now that she was sitting in front.
Shivaay looked ethereal to her; his everything was very personified and iconic. He looked like a carved sculpture by Lord Zeus himself. His emerald eyes, chiseled jaw, and buff yet muscular figure. Golden-tanned body.
Now that Aadhisha has realized she never took a look at Shivaay closely since she came to his territory, she knew he was handsome; instead of dreaming, she actually imagined a ravishing night.
But in this close-up, she felt like he looked like anything but this worldly creature. Because none of these finely carved men really cease to exist. Because he looked that unreal to her.
"Why does everyone call you mahir-sa?"
Shivaay looked at her, smirking and coming near her in the swiveling chair, which floats using gravity. He pulled his legs up right where Aadhisha's elbow was resting.
Instead of getting irritated, she just stared at his face.
"They call me that because I am the prince. Because I am the eldest of my three brothers and the heir to the throne of the Raizada empires."
"Hmm, tell me more. The things in your place are out of the world."
Shivaay was surprised and couldn't stop chuckling. He was sure that no one wanted to know why things were the way they were. But she was the first one to ask him with a curious face.
Shivaay sat in the dimly lit conference room of his luxury mafia base, the air thick with the scent of smoke and old parchment. Aadhisha was sitting in the chair opposite, leaning on the table in front, her eyes wide with curiosity and perhaps a touch of apprehension.
The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls adorned with ancient tapestries.
"Shivaay," Aadhisha began softly, "there are whispers, rumors... about your household. About your harem. I am sorry but I just wanted to know."
Shivaay nodded gravely, his gaze fixed on the flames. "Yes, it is true. My household is not conventional by modern standards. We adhere to traditions that have been passed down through generations over millennia."
