The Alpha’s Caregiver is a Mafia

First day of work, and she was already running late. But the nerves were there, and she needed her daily mini Pipo-yogurt to calm her nerves. 

Poopy Brooks walked into the store, hurrying her way to the aisle where she'd already memorized the yogurts were kept for sale. Just one of the yogurts was left, but she smiled still, moving closer to the shelf. 

She reached up on her tiptoes, grabbing it, however, before she could take it off the shelf, another set of thicker fingers snatched it, causing her to jolt. She spun around and looked at the figure behind her. 

Obviously a man, nothing shorter than six foot six with a massive build, muscles visible under the three-piece expensive suit he wore. But there was just something off about him. The man was in dark-shaded glasses, a cap, and a mask covering his nose as if he didn't want to be recognized by anyone. 

Was he someone important? 

Poppy doubted anyone important would be trying to fight her over a three-dollar mini 'Pipo-yogurt.' But he wasn't letting go. 

"Take your hand off," came a cold voice. 

She froze before quirking a brow. "Excuse me?" 

The man's eyes moved from the yogurt as he tilted his head to stare her down. "Let go of it, I need it." He sounded rough and breathy, like he was going to collapse in a minute or two. 

Poppy didn't. Instead she grabbed onto the yogurt much tighter. "No, I need it. Besides, I touched it first." 

"No, I touched it first." 

"I touched it first, and I'm not letting go of it." She attempted to snatch the yogurt from his grip, but neither this stranger was willing to budge. 

"I need this more than you do, let go of it." 

She pulled a face at him. "What makes you think you need it more than I do? Let it go." 

The veins on the man's hand throbbed, clearly annoyed. 

He said, "Listen, let go of this, and I'll have a truck of this sent to your address or anything." 

"Really?" 

"Yes." 

Poppy's lips thinned. "No thank you, I have a job I can't mess up," she said quietly and snatched the yogurt right out of his grip. "Maybe next time." 

The man watched her leave the store, his body trembling in discomfort and agitation. 

"You—" 

Poppy walked through the glass door, ignoring him. She glanced at her watch and grimaced, drawing deep breaths before flagging down a cab and getting in. Amidst the ride, she opened the yogurt, chucking half of it in one go, then once she felt her nerves settled, a smile popped on her face. 

The driver stopped right at her destination, and she stepped down, paying him. She turned to the massive white gate, hesitating before taking out her phone and dialing a number. 

"Hello, is this Poppy Brooks?"

"Yes, this is Poppy Brooks." 

"I see. Please come forward to the gate, they'll let you in."

The woman on the other end of the call hung up, and Poppy walked to the gate like she was asked. It was opened for her by the guards, and she stepped in, lifting her head to stare at the house, absolutely in pure white and with a little bit of gold here and there. 

House wasn't even the correct term, because this place was a mansion in every sense. Too massive. 

It belonged to Xavian Winslow, currently the wealthiest man, and his sister had approached their agency to recruit a caregiver for him. Complete details of the reason were not given, but from the email she'd been sent, it seemed the man was experiencing constant migraine. A very severe one.

Something wasn't right, but she couldn't pry. The payment was no less than a million dollars just for two months of this, and she wasn't going to say no. The contract she'd signed also made it clear no other outsider except her could be aware of Mr. Winslow's condition.

Oh, her lips were sealed, they had nothing to worry about. 

A woman, in midnight blue slacks and white blouse, walked out of the house and approached her with a smile. "You must be Ms. Brooks. It's nice to meet you, please come in." 

Poppy followed behind her, watching how healthily her black hair bounced all the way to her bottom. 

"Mr. Winslow is currently not around, so if you could wait a bit, he'll be back shortly." 

"Oh, that's not a problem," Poppy said, her smile professional and polite. 

"My name is Cily, his younger sister." The woman smiled back. "I'm sure you read the email, and you can already tell what his problems are. The migraine is the main issue, so you just need to make sure his medicines are taken in time and be there in case of certain casualties. Sometimes, you might also need to follow him to his company, again to make sure his pills are taken in time." 

Poppy nodded. She badly wanted to ask why they wouldn't decide on a hospital for treatment, but it wasn't her concern, so she shoved her curiosity down.

"We are hoping that in two months' time, his condition would have improved in any way, no matter how little, as long as it's much more manageable than it is now," Cily continued. "It's a hindrance to a lot of things in his life, and it gets as bad as preventing him from proper sleep sometimes." 

"Okay." Poppy nodded. "I just need to make sure—" 

"Oh, Xavian," Cily suddenly exclaimed, walking past her. "There you are. Your caregiver has arrived. I was just about to ring your phone, but since you're here, let me introduce you to her." 

Poppy slowly turned, pausing as a pair of yellowish eyes, very bright like the sun, dropped on her, pinning her in place. 

Were they even natural? She'd never seen such color of eyes before. 

Her gaze shifted to the pack of ice he held against his head, down to his bloody nose that had bloodstains as if he'd had a nosebleed. Were his migraines that incredibly bad? She didn't expect that extent. 

"This is Poppy Brooks," Cily introduced and turned to her with a smile. "Poppy, this is Xavian Winslow, my brother." 

Poppy politely bowed to him and straightened up with a professional smile painting her face. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Winslow."

Xavian Winslow made no response, but his eyes hardened for reasons Poppy couldn't quite figure out. She watched as the man began to stalk towards her, his large, familiar body popping muscles under his three-piece suit. 

Wait…

He stopped right in front of her, tilted his head with a distasteful expression, his voice rough and guttural as it jolted through her brain. 

"You're fired."