**The Mafia's Obsession**
Isabella slammed the book shut, the sound echoing through the quiet library. "This is ridiculous," she muttered, tossing it onto the mahogany table. "Why should I care about propriety when the world outside these walls is anything but proper?"
Aramniya leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, his dark eyes tracking her restless movements. "Because rules keep people like us alive," he said, his voice low but firm.
She whirled to face him, her skirts swirling around her ankles. "People like *us*? You mean the ones who break every rule when it suits them?"
A smirk tugged at his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Precisely."
Isabella huffed, pacing again. The library, with its towering shelves and gilded trim, felt more like a gilded cage than ever. She had spent her childhood dreaming of grand adventures, of love stories that defied time and reason—not this stifling reality where every glance, every word, was dictated by society's expectations.
Aramniya pushed off the doorframe and closed the distance between them in a few strides. He caught her wrist, his grip gentle but unyielding. "What do you want, Isabella?"
The question hung between them, heavy with unspoken possibilities. She met his gaze, her pulse quickening. "I want to breathe," she admitted. "I want to live without looking over my shoulder, without calculating every step."
His thumb brushed over her knuckles, a silent promise. "Then consider the rules broken."
She blinked. "Just like that?"
"Just like that." His voice was steady, but there was something dangerous beneath it—a hunger she'd only glimpsed before. "But understand this: my world isn't kind. If you step into it, there's no going back."
Isabella swallowed. She had heard the whispers about Aramniya—the way his name sent shivers down spines, the way his enemies vanished without a trace. But standing this close, she saw the man beneath the legend. The one who had rearranged the world for her comfort, who had watched her from the shadows long before she ever noticed him.
"I'm not afraid," she lied.
He chuckled, releasing her wrist to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. "You should be."
The door creaked open, and a servant hesitated on the threshold, eyes downcast. "Sir, the council is waiting."
Aramniya's expression hardened. "Tell them I'll be there when I'm ready."
The servant bowed and retreated, but the interruption had shattered the moment. Isabella stepped back, suddenly aware of how close they'd been. "You're busy," she said, forcing a smile. "I shouldn't keep you."
He studied her for a long moment, then sighed. "We'll continue this later."
As he turned to leave, she called after him, "Why me?"
He paused, glancing over his shoulder. "Because you see the world differently. Because you *dream*." Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.
Isabella exhaled, her fingers trembling. She had spent her life romanticizing every moment, but this—this was something else entirely.
---
The streets of Valenford were alive with noise and color, a stark contrast to the stifling silence of the estate. Isabella adjusted the hood of her cloak, her heart pounding as she slipped through the crowd. She had never ventured into the city alone before, but Aramniya's words had ignited a recklessness in her.
If the rules were broken, then she would break them properly.
A hand grabbed her elbow, yanking her into a shadowed alley. She gasped, but a familiar scent—spice and leather—calmed her before she could scream.
"Are you *trying* to get yourself killed?" Aramniya growled, his grip tightening.
She wrenched free. "You said the rules were broken!"
"Not *these* rules," he snapped. "Do you have any idea what would happen if someone recognized you here?"
Isabella lifted her chin. "I'm not some fragile thing to be locked away."
A muscle in his jaw twitched. "No, you're not. But you *are* precious to me."
The admission hung between them, raw and unexpected. Isabella's breath caught.
Before she could respond, a shout echoed from the street. Aramniya's eyes narrowed. "We're leaving. Now."
He pulled her deeper into the alley, his movements swift and sure. She stumbled after him, her mind racing. This was the world he lived in—one of danger and quick escapes, where every shadow could hide a threat.
They emerged into a quieter district, where ivy-covered townhouses loomed over cobblestone streets. Aramniya didn't slow until they reached a nondescript door. He knocked twice, paused, then knocked once more.
The door swung open, revealing a dimly lit interior. A woman with sharp features and a sharper gaze nodded at Aramniya before eyeing Isabella. "This her?"
Aramniya's hand settled possessively on Isabella's lower back. "Yes."
The woman smirked. "About time."
Isabella frowned. "What's going on?"
Aramniya guided her inside, his voice low. "You wanted to see my world? Welcome to it."
The door closed behind them with a finality that sent a shiver down her spine.
---
The room was filled with maps, ledgers, and weapons—tools of a life Isabella had only read about in novels. She traced a finger over a dagger's hilt, its metal cool beneath her touch.
"You're really...?" She couldn't bring herself to say the word.
"A criminal?" Aramniya finished, leaning against the table. "Yes."
She turned to face him. "And you want me here?"
He crossed the room in two strides, cradling her face in his hands. "I want you *everywhere*."
The intensity in his eyes stole her breath. This wasn't the controlled, calculating man she knew—this was someone else entirely. Someone who burned.
Isabella hesitated, then rose onto her toes, closing the distance between them.
The kiss was electric, a collision of longing and defiance. Aramniya's arms wrapped around her, pulling her flush against him as if he could fuse their souls together.
When they broke apart, his voice was rough. "This changes everything."
She smiled, her fingers tangled in his hair. "Good."
Outside, the city hummed with life, oblivious to the shift in the universe. But Isabella knew—nothing would ever be the same.
And she couldn't wait to see what happened next.