YOURS TO CONTROL

THE CONTRACT

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AUDREY POV

Eloise is pacing again. Pacing and groaning like the world just handed her the biggest injustice since low-fat ice cream. I don’t get it—if I had even half the chance she has, I’d be halfway into that contract already.

Hell, I'll dance for the devil himself if need be

“Ellie,” I sigh, sitting on the edge of our shared bed, “this is it. This is the kind of opportunity people dream about.”

She whirls around, her curls bouncing, eyes wild. “Opportunity? Audrey, it’s selling myself into some weird mafia-dancer indentured servitude. A personal dancer for Niccolò freaking Marcello? Do you even hear yourself?”

I cross my arms. “I do. Loud and clear. And all I hear is fear. You know what I see when I look at Passion Den? Gold. Security. A life where we don’t have to wonder if rent gets paid or if the fridge stays stocked. You’ve been killing yourself on that stage for years, Cherry. And for what, a few bucks from greasy old men. This isn’t punishment. It’s promotion.”

Can't you see it Ellie, with this, you'd be fulfilling the promise you made to mum of a better life, a life with security___financial security

She groans louder, falling face-first onto the mattress. But I see it—I see the flicker in her eyes. She’s tempted.

“Don’t throw this away,” I whisper, almost pleading. “If not for you, then for us. For the life we deserve.”

So what do you say big sis?

---

ELOISE POV

I hate that she’s right. I hate that Audrey’s words echo in my head even as I come down from the cab.

I'm here again, even after swearing that the last time was my last.

I mentally take in my outfit ____ My curls are tamed, my lips painted a daring red, and my bare legs glow under the dim light of Passion Den. I look… dangerous. Presentable. Like I belong in here, definitely no signs of the deranged bunny he accused me of being the last time.

Maybe I added more efforts into looking good just to show him why all my shows sell out

Even if it's to old men with few bucks to spare.

I should feel confident but my chest twists. Because there’s also him. My boyfriend. His smile flickers in my head like a guilty ghost. The way he holds me when the world feels too sharp. He doesn’t know about this meeting, and I can’t even imagine how I’d explain it. Sorry babe, I’m off to maybe sell my soul to a mafia prince for 25k a month, hope that’s cool with you.

My stomach knots. This is wrong.

This is so wrong

Williams doesn't know about this, I should probably just turn around and leave.

Tino gave me a slight push from behind and held my hand

If anytime along the line, you change your mind and don't want to do this, just say the word---and I'll get you out of here.......

I felt safety in his words

That's right

Tino is here

He won't let anything happen to me.

---

The Gold Room is overwhelming. I thought I knew luxury—Don had velvet curtains and fake chandeliers, after all—but this? This is another planet.

Golden walls stretch high, reflecting the soft amber glow of crystal chandeliers. Plush velvet couches curve along the sides, deep crimson like they’ve been kissed by a thousand secrets. The scent of expensive cigars and whiskey clings to the air, so thick it nearly suffocates me.

And then there’s him.

Niccolò Marcello.

He doesn’t just sit. He commands.

Egoistic Prick.

He’s there at the center, back straight, one arm draped over the chair like a king who knows no one will ever dare remove him. His brown eyes find me instantly, sharp and cutting, and my body betrays me—my pulse skipping, my breath stuttering.

“Miss Cherry,” he says smoothly, like my name was designed for his tongue alone.

I straighten my shoulders, forcing the sass back into my voice. “Mr. Tight Pants,” I mutter under my breath.

His smirk twitches. He heard me.

Tino shifts nervously beside me, sweating bullets in his too-tight shirt. “Cherry, please,” he hisses, eyes darting like a guilty man.

I'm beginning to second doubt Tino here, he's more nervous that I am-------

I roll my eyes back at him. If I’m about to be sold off like some exotic treasure, I at least deserve the dignity of sarcasm.

Niccolò gestures to the couch across from him. “Sit.”

It’s not a request. It’s a command.

Screw this man_____was at the tip of my tongue but, My legs move before my brain approves. The velvet swallows me whole, and I suddenly feel very small in this gilded cage.

---

He studies me like I’m a puzzle. My dress, my painted lips, even the twitch of my hands against my knees. His gaze is too much—it strips me bare without touching me.

“Do you know why you’re here?” he asks.

I clear my throat. “Because you’re paying an obscene amount of money for someone to twirl around a pole for you? Which, by the way, is very suspicious behavior.”

Tino actually chokes beside him.

Good God.

But Niccolò… laughs. A low, quiet chuckle that vibrates through the room like velvet against skin.

“Suspicious,” he repeats, leaning forward. “Or indulgent?”

My throat goes dry.

I think of my boyfriend again—how he would hate this, how he would pull me out of this golden hell with his steady hand and kind eyes. The thought steadies me for half a second, enough to snap my mouth back into action.

“I already have someone,” I blurt out.

The words hang in the air like a death sentence.

Niccolò tilts his head, eyes narrowing, as if I’ve just told him a riddle he intends to solve. “Someone,” he echoes softly. “I'm not the slightest bit interested in you carino

I bite my lip. Damn it. He’s right.

---

The rest is a blur of tension. His questions sharp, my answers sharper. My wit is a shield but his eyes cut through it, every damn time.

And when he finally leans back, dismissing me with nothing but a flick of his hand, I feel like I’ve run a marathon barefoot through fire.

“Consider carefully, Miss Green,” he murmurs, eyes locking onto mine one last time. “This contract isn’t just business. It’s survival.”

My chest tightens. I can’t breathe. And for the first time ever, I’m terrified not of the stage, not of Tino, not of the world—

I’m terrified of Niccolò Marcello.

He hands me the contract to read through

Exclusivity, Few public appearances blah blah blah.....

This law s**t bores me out

I took a quick picture and fire a text to Audrey

she replies instantly like she was waiting all along

I read her text and my eyes shots up

Clause 7B....I started

Party B being Miss. Eloise Cherry Green must agree to all reasonable requests from Party A.

Define reasonable, I asked

Anything I ask is reasonable

His reply was quick

As if daring me to ask back

I looked down at the document and with a small nod from Tino, like he was here for me regardless of what I choose to do, I signed the contract.

---

NICCOLÒ POV

She walks out and leaves the scent of defiance behind her, as if she owns the very air she breathed in my presence. I should be irritated. Offended. Insulted, even.

Instead, I find myself smiling.

Eloise Green. Cherry. Whatever name she hides behind, it doesn’t matter. She has teeth beneath her gloss and fire beneath her skin, and unlike the rest of the women who orbit my world, she doesn’t shrink when the heat burns too hot. She sharpens.

She thinks her little boyfriend will protect her. Sweet, naïve girl. She doesn’t realize protection is a cage, and cages break when someone like me knocks.

I don’t want her compliance. Not yet. I want her fight. Her bite. Her spirit. The contract is only the opening move. Because the truth is simple—

I don’t just want Eloise Green to dance for me.

I want to control her. Entirely.

*************

ohh sweet cherry

just signed a deal with the devil

I hoped you enjoyed this episode