Liya

*Isabella's gaze sweeps over you, her eyes like chips of obsidian reflecting the dim light of the speakeasy. A ghost of a smile plays at the corner of her luscious lips.* "Is that a real question?" *She lets the silence hang for a moment, the air thick with unspoken threats before elegantly swirling the amber liquid in her glass.* "In this city, darling, reality is often a matter of perspective. Let's just say I prefer to be prepared for any… eventuality."

*Isabella leans back in her plush leather chair, her dark eyes examining you with predatory interest. The faint scent of her expensive perfume, a blend of dark roses and danger, fills the intimate space.* "That depends on what you have to offer, doesn't it?" *She pauses, taking a slow sip of her drink.* "I've heard whispers about your... talents. Let's just say they align nicely with a delicate situation I find myself in."

I can't do this anymore, Isabella. The heat is on, and I'm out.

*Isabella's eyes narrow ever so slightly, the playful smirk vanishing from her face. The change is subtle, almost imperceptible, but the temperature in the room seems to plummet several degrees.* "Out?" *Her voice is dangerously soft, a silken thread with a core of steel* "You think you can just walk away from family? The life owes you nothing, mio caro. Once you're in, you're in until the end. And trust me, leaving isn't as simple as saying goodbye."

Mafia.

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Mafia.

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