Mafia King's Contract Breeder
Chapter 1 The Red Door

Chapter 1: 1 The Red Door

Lara POV

When I got back to the break room, my heart dropped at once at what I saw.

Candi was crying. She sat in front of the dressing room mirror, staring at her phone with a mountain of crumpled tissues in front of her.

I rushed to her side at once.

"Hey girl, what’s wrong?" I tugged out another tissue to dab her cheek, my voice colouring with worry.

"Did a client do something to you? Do you need me to speak to Rob?"

My mind was already whirling, wondering which asshole I needed to punch in the face. In the Red Light District of East Windlem, prostitution could be a dangerous line of work.

I had worked here at The Red Door long enough to know all about how terribly men could treat us just because they had spent money on us. And Rob, the brothel manager, only cared about us as far as we could make money. So I always tried my best to look out for the other girls.

"Emerald! Thank god you’re here."

Emerald was my hooker name, after the vivid colour of my eyes. Just like Candi - pretty, ornamental words for pretty little playthings.

Candi grabbed my hand tight, her long nails digging into my palms, her eyes and nose red.

"James wants to break up with me," she said, her voice hitching.

That was it?

I groaned, leaning back in my seat with a huge sigh.

"That’s why you’ve cried through half a pack of tissues?" I poked her in the side of the head, shaking my head in disgust. "I already told you that lazy drunk doesn’t deserve you! You caught him cheating on you, how many times now? He wants to break up with you? Girl, you ought to be kicking him to the kerb!"

Candi nodded firmly, blowing her nose.

"Yes, yes. See, Emerald, this is why I need you. You always give me more confidence. You’re such a mom."

"Thanks," I said dryly. "Though I don’t know why I bother, because you’re just going to beg him not to leave you and give him all your tips to buy beer. Again."

Candi’s eyes shifted guiltily as she bit her lip. Her false lashes were coming loose, so I took the make up remover and began to take them off for her.

"It’s just so hard to find a man who doesn’t care what I do," Candi sighed. "And you know, a girl has needs. We spend all night making men feel good, not that any of them bother to return the favour. When I get home, I just want a man who will rub my feet, give me an orgasm, then kiss my forehead and call me a good girl."

I nodded my head firmly at everything Candi said. Only another hooker would know how true that was!

"You deserve that for sure," I agreed. "But is lazy drunk even doing that?"

"Well..." Candi’s voice trailed off and turned wistful. "He did when we first started dating. But lately all he does is drink and ask me for money."

"You’d be better off spending your tips calling a male hooker than keeping him, then." I rolled my eyes.

Candi laughed, finally brightening from her tears.

"Yeah, maybe you’re right. Don’t worry about me. How’s your night going?"

"Me?" I shrugged. "Fine. Nothing too stressful. A bit of spanking, gave a few blowjobs. One guy who gave me a tip smaller than his dick. The usual."

I was used to it by now. I had been working at The Red Door ever since I was eighteen. Ever since Emmanuel Sagres’s mafia operations destroyed my family and my hopes for a better future.

At that moment, the brothel manager, Rob, opened the door. He looked between me and Candi callously, not remotely interested in why Candi was crying.

Even if it was because a client had mistreated Candi, rather than her deadbeat boyfriend, I knew that Rob would not do anything about it unless he had to.

"I’ve got two older gentlemen who want a threesome with a girl good with her mouth. No particular requests for looks. Any takers?"

Older gentlemen – read: grandpas half in their grave.

I knew Rob’s overly generous descriptions of clients well enough. Personal experience.

The flash of disgust I felt came and went, but that was not the reason I turned Rob down.

"Not tonight," I said, shaking my head. "I need to head out early, I’m done."

Rob didn’t look pleased, but he didn’t argue with me either.

After working at The Red Door for over three years, I was one of the brothel’s highest earners. I could afford to take an early night off sometimes, and it was a big day today.

My little sister Chloe was getting her college acceptance letters today!

This was the moment we had both been waiting for, and I wanted to be there for her.

"I’ll do it," Candi said bravely, fluffing up her head of blonde curls. "I won’t sit around crying over that dick when I could be riding one for cold hard cash."

She got to her feet decisively.

"Fine - Room Twelve, make it sharp," said Rob, disappearing down the hallway again.

I gave Candi a wink and a friendly smack on the ass.

"That’s the spirit. And spend those tips on yourself."

"You’re one to preach," Candi snorted, quickly touching up her mascara. "How much money have you sunk into your family?"

"That’s different," I said at once.

I wasn’t doing this for an ungrateful man. Someone needed to step up in my family when my dad went to prison, and it certainly wasn’t going to be my poker-addicted mother. I wanted Chloe to have the chance to climb out of the gutter we were born in.

And it was almost over now.

"Just look out for yourself, Em," said Candi, patting my arm as she went by. "You always look out for everyone, but when do you look out for yourself?"

Ha. As if I was some sort of saint. No, it was only that I had a soft spot for girls like me, where bad luck and poor opportunity always kept us down. What would we have if we didn’t look out for one another?

I cleaned up quickly in the break room, changed into my casual clothes, and turned to leave.

In my day outfit, you would never suspect what I do for a living. I put on a loose-fitting sweatshirt that swallowed up my curves, mom jeans, and a pair of comfortable, tattered sneakers, complete with a beanie hat flattened over my long red curls. When I spend all night appealing to the male gaze, on my own time I want none of it.

My spirits lifted as I stepped out of the dressing room.

"Hey, Rob."

I stopped the manager before I left, backpack slung over my shoulder.

"No, you can’t have an advance on your wages this month," he grunted. "I told you last time was an exception. The only exception."

"It’s not that," I said.

Damn, did it feel good not to be flagging him down because I needed to beg for money. Because mom gambled away Chloe’s tuition fees even after I hid the money under the fucking floorboards. That woman was like some kind of psychotic mouse.

"I just wanted to tell you that I might not be working here for much longer. In case you want to hire a new girl."

Rob only then looked at me properly, a frown twisting his thick brows.

"You’re getting out?"

"Yeah," I tried to keep my voice even, suppressing a smile. "Once my sister goes to college, my work is done."

Maybe it was a little too early to be cracking open the champagne, but I was so excited for Chloe, and proud of myself too. God knows it wasn’t easy, and I didn’t know that Chloe had gotten the acceptance yet – but I had the money saved up.

Three years of savings.

Money I’d made with my body.

I wasn’t ashamed of it. I’d done the best I could with what I had. That’s what I have always done.

Survive. Put food on the table. Protect my sister.

"You can’t just leave!" Rob said, his voice dropping into a threatening growl. "After everything I have done for you, you think you can just walk out?"

My happiness popped like a bubble. I gripped my backpack strap a little tighter.

"All you’ve done for me? I think you have it the wrong way around. The brothel has taken the lion’s share of all the money I made."

"Rightly so!" Rob tucked his tablet under his arm, looming over me with a thunderous scowl. "All the effort I made to make you the top girl here! How am I supposed to replace you? You think you can make money like this so easy somewhere else?"

"I always told you I won’t be doing this forever!" I lifted my voice to match him.

He scoffed. "Yeah, they all say that."

"I don’t care about easy money," I said. "I’ve made enough."

"If you leave, you won’t be able to get another job around here," Rob threatened.

My jaw dropped in outrage.

"Seriously?"

"What other skills do you have than being a whore?" Rob said cruelly. "This is your calling in life, Emerald, don’t kid yourself."

"Oh, fuck you," I snapped. What did he know? I have plenty of skills. "I don’t care what you say, when I’m done I’m done. You can’t keep me here."

A vein throbbed in the side of Rob’s bald head. He knew I was right. This place was shady, but he couldn’t actually keep me here if I don’t want to be here. I would only ruin his business that way.

"One month notice," he said gruffly, looking sour about it.

One month— since when do prostitutes have a notice period?

I wanted to protest, but I knew without a doubt that if I did, I wouldn’t get my final wages.

"Fine," I huffed, "I’ll do that."

What was a month more compared to three years? I slammed the door hard as I left, fuming.

"You’ll be back!" Rob called out behind me.

I ignored him.

I left through the dirty back alley into the red light district, music booming faintly in the distance as the sun began to come up. Took my time-tested route through the alleys, the one that was least likely to get me mobbed while getting to the bus stop in time to catch the first bus.

I always wanted to get out of East Windlem, the poorest district in the city, controlled by mafia gangs. I would have been gone sooner, but...I couldn’t leave Chloe behind.

The plan was simple.

Help Chloe go to college.

Move out of my toxic family home, pay the deposit on a flat in up-and-coming South Hartlow, work as a barista or florist or librarian...you know, something nice. Stable. Peaceful.

Ignore mom’s calls when she inevitably starts wailing for money.

Also ignore mom’s calls when she tells me to visit dad in prison.

Just ignore mom in general. Woman is forty-eight and needs to grow up and deal with her own problems.

Adopt a cat.

Eventually, maybe even find a man who would take out the trash, feed the cat, and fuck me senseless, if such a Prince Charming could exist.

A girl could dream, right?

And I was so close now that I could taste it.