AngelLily

Poppy Brooks, who’d ditched the mafia she was tied to in pursuit of a normal life as a caregiver, is suddenly hired by a wealthy man, who needed a caregiver for a strange severe case of migraines.  

She accepts the job, unaware of what she is getting into. What this man is, she had no idea. The weird connection she has with him, or his unlike-human behavior at times, none of them makes sense to her. 

He is the devil, some would say.  
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Xavian Winslow, an alpha who ditched his pack to stay on the other side among humans, is suffering from a cursed migraine, one that affects his daily life. What he needed as a caregiver was a human who didn’t have anything to do with him, not in any way. 

For a man who’d had a first mate who died on him, a second mate was very much impossible. 
But would that still be the case when he meets Poppy Brooks, his caregiver?  

What will he do when he is left with a choice: reject her to protect her or risk losing her completely to the hands of his kind, who forbade mating with humans? 

Will he keep her regardless, or let go? And what happens when he discovers that Poppy, who he’d thought was nothing but a caregiver, is one way or another related to the mafia? A group of humans who he despised with every fiber in him? 

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[The cover isn’t mine, credits to the owner]

The Alpha’s Caregiver is a Mafia

Felix grunted under his breath, slowly blinking his eyes open. It took a full minutes of glancing around before he tried reaching for his aching head, but the restraint around his wrist couldn't let him.

He glanced at the chain, following the trail to the radiator where it was connected.

Who chainz someone to a house radiator?

Still, it was only one hand, the rest of him was free, he'd rubbed his temple, hissing slightly. The last thing he remembered was talking to that mute guy, and then everything suddenly went blank.

He'd expected to be dead by now, he was unsure why he was alive. That guy felt dangerous, too dangerous for his liking.

How would he even get out of here now?

Frustration crawled up his spine and he reached for the pockets of his suit, patting for any signs of his cigarettes which he usually had on him. There was nothing, not even his lighter.

CHAPTER 80