Craving Mr Redd

Kyla felt her world crumble after losing her father two weeks ago.

The thought of never seeing the only person who understood her more than anyone else was a nightmare. She'd never get to hear him call her little pumpkin. Never get to feel his lips pressed against her cheek.

Throughout the week, she refused to step out, barely ate, and barely said a word to anyone.

A gentle knock sounded behind her door.

"Go away, Vivian. I do not want breakfast," Kyla mumbled under the sheet.

Vivian, the housekeeper, cleared her throat. "Someone is here to see you."

Kyla sighed. "Don't try to trick me out."

"This is important, Miss Harper. The guest is waiting."

Kyla shut her eyes and went quiet. She wouldn't get out of this bed. Every morning she opened her eyes, the world didn't feel the same. Stepping out was worse, as every inch of the mansion held memories of her father.

"Let me handle this," another voice said, deeper than the maid's.

"Kyla. This is a friend of your father. Please, step out for a moment."

Kyla blinked. A friend of her father?

Her father only had a few trusted business clients with whom he maintained good relationships. He'd told her about each one, but none of them had ever come here.

Curiosity settled. What could he possibly be here for?

"Fine," she grumbled. "I'll be down in a minute."

As their footsteps faded, Kyla dragged herself off the bed. She freshened up, wore a peach hoodie she'd got from her father three months ago, and a pair of jean shorts.

She tied her hair into a bun and gave herself a short glance in the mirror.

Staring back at her was a ghost version of herself. Unrecognizable. Pale skin. Baggy eyes that had lost their warmth. Lips, dry with cracked, bitten from sleepless nights filled with muffled cries.

She had lost weight. Part of her hair clung to her face in an unkept way.

Sighing, she dragged herself down the stairs, feet thumping lazily at each step.

Vivian was talking with a man in a suit. The sight of him made her freeze at the bottom of the stairs.

Friend of her father?

She'd expected him to be some old, eye-wrinkled, grey-haired dude, not an epitome of demigod. Through the pair of glasses, his almond-shaped blue eyes met hers, sending a sudden heat down the back of her neck.

A black suit clung to his tall, built frame. 6.2 maybe, taller than anyone in the room.

Wait... anyone else in the room?

There were two others. One of which she'd recognized.

Her father's lawyer.

Only then did Kyla notice the tight and nervous look on Vivian's face, the way she fidgeted with her fingers.

Okay, what's going on?

Much later, Kyla's fists were clutched on her knees, lips parted in disbelief as she listened to her father's lawyer. Listened to the absurd words he was spilling, or rather, ones her father had told him to tell her.

"Are you freaking kidding me? I'm twenty-two. Not a kid. Why should I be in Mr. Redd's custody?"

Apparently, the demigod of a man was Mr. Redd, her godforsaken new guardian. He was seated calmly, hadn't said a single word, and his gaze was fixed on her-Expression unreadable.

"According to Mr. Harper, you're not to be left vulnerable. Mr. Redd's protection is... non-negotiable. This is your father's final directive."

Kyla's mind screamed.

She had barely had time to mourn her father's death, and now she was being handed over to some man she had never seen or known.

"There has to be a mistake. My father wouldn't hand me over to some stranger."

"He is not a stranger..."

"I don't know him!"

"Well, now you do," Mr. Redd cut in, his voice deep and measured. "Miss Harper, I know this is hard to accept, but there is no going back. We'll figure this out."

Kyla scoffed. "I don't think we have anything to figure out, Mr. Redd. I think you should all leave. I'm not a piece of property to be handed over."

Without wasting a moment, Kyla rose to leave. Her father wouldn't make such a request.

Why does she need protection from some stranger her father had never introduced to her? And from who exactly?

A strong hand caught hers before she could walk past the couch. Mr. Redd stood, his frame looming over hers like a dangerous shadow, suddenly making her conscious of how she barely reached his broad shoulder.

His aura was so thick it nearly crushed her gut. Something about him brought wild butterflies to her stomach.

And his cologne? Oh, she couldn't imagine how expensive it was to smell this incredible.

"You're not a thing, Miss Harper," he said. "Your father wants you protected, and I intend to keep that promise whether you like it or not."

Something about his sentence sounded like a threat. Like he was about to lose the last string of his patience.

Too bad, Mr. Redd, I'm not some girl you could order around. By promise or not.

"So, what are you going to do, huh?" she dared, lifting her chin as if it could beat his height. "Flip me over your shoulder and shove me to your car? Do your worst or whatever. I'm not leaving this apartment."

Vivian was mumbling something like a prayer around the corner. Her mouth opened and closed like she wanted to say something, but couldn't say a word out loud enough.

Mr. Redd pushed his glasses up his nose slightly. His lips twitched to the side. Something flicked in those eyes behind the glasses.

Next, Kyla felt her feet leave the ground. Her stomach suddenly pressed against his shoulder.

It happened in a split second.

Her eyes widened.

This man didn't just flip her over his shoulder like some bag of potatoes. Would he shove her into his car, too?

No!

"Let me go!" Kyla screamed, wiggling both her arms and her legs, but his large arm remained secured around her waist with no escape.

"I'll take my leave now," he said, then glanced over his watch. "My men will gather her belongings."

Wait, he can't be serious.

"Let go of me! Help!"

Kyla caught sight of her father's lawyer, hoping he'd stop Mr. Redd, but the man stood frozen, files clutched against his chest with lips parted without a freaking word.

Fear?

Does this lawyer fear this man taking her away?

"Where are you taking me, you little prick!" she shouted.

"The city,"

Oh shoots!

Kyla cried out harder, kicking and cursing against his shoulder.

He didn't stop. Didn't respond.

He reached the black Bentley waiting outside, swung the door open, and shoved her in. Not too hard to hurt, but she groaned, wanting to curse again.

"Quiet."

He didn't raise his voice, but it somehow stopped her from talking. This man held a commanding tone and aura that freezes people, just like how it did to Vivian and that lawyer. And now, it took effect on her, leaving only her raging breath filling the car.

"Your father left you in my care, and I intend to see that. Nothing more. Nothing less. You will adapt and follow the rules I set, and that, Miss Harper, we'll have a good start," he said, his blue ocean eyes piercing through her. "Do you understand?"

Kyla's jaw ticked. "I understand this is illegal."

"Oh, I am illegal."

He shut the door with a soft thud, walked around, entered the car, and sat beside her.

"Move," he ordered.

The driver, she hadn't noticed, roared the car engine to life.

"One more thing, Wildling." He shot a serious look at her. "I have no interest in your life, except keeping it intact. For now."

The car was quiet.

Kyla's arms were folded, face red as she couldn't stop thinking about what he had said earlier.

Was her life truly in danger?

Why did her father choose and trust him, of all people, to take care of her?

Mr. Redd was making calls, speaking a language that sounds Italian. Was that where he'd come from?

Even though she'd hate to admit it, he was breathtaking. Like one of those hot, sexy men she'd read about in novels. Ones that made her squeal sheepishly on her bed almost every night.

His raven-black hair was a kind you'd crave to run a hand over and play with. Longer than usual. Well-defined jaw line that gave him a predatory appeal.

'No Kyla.'

'Don't look at him that way.'

'He was a man who kidnapped you, claiming it was a wish from your father.'

"Answer these once you are done staring."

Kyla's face caught fire. She cleared her throat, wishing she could sink lower in the car seat.

"I wasn't staring."

Without looking, he shook the file in front of her face. His other hand was busy on his phone.

Sighing, she took the paper, expecting a list of people who suddenly want her dead, instructions for her assassination, secret codes from her father's past, a treasure map... or maybe a heist plan.

But it was none of that.

There were surprisingly simple questions about her. Questions like her hobbies, likes, allergies, favorite colors, and so many more.

"Mr. Redd, you're such a nice man. Dragging me in here and suddenly wants to know all about me."

"Just answer the questions, Wildling."

"Don't call me that, Mr. Illegal."

"The name is Carlos Redd," he said, finally looking at her. "Do you talk this much?"

"Get used to and ready to be tormented with it if you won't take me back," she said. "Why do I have to move to the city?"

"So, I can keep my eyes on you. You can always come back here to visit, only with my permission."

She sat back with a huff, set the file in the middle, and dragged a hand through her hair. Today had already felt exhausting, going back and forth with someone as annoying as him.

She can't believe she was suddenly forced to leave her quiet life here in the countryside of New York.

Kyla had been in the city a few times, but never liked the chaotic environment. She preferred life with quiet air, trees, and animals.

The rest of the drive was silent. Kyla kept herself busy with games, occasionally glancing at the tall, fancy buildings that seemed to reach the sky as they rolled by outside the window.

After four hours, the car finally rolled past the open iron gates in a deliberate movement.

The house was sleek, sculptured like one of those she'd seen in magazines. Two stories high, vast, not intimidating but elegant. Tall polished windows kissed by the afternoon sunlight. A fountain sat at the center of the driveway. The garden bloomed with beautiful flowers.

The interior was unmistakably beautiful, well-arranged, and neat as if untouched. Screaming wealth.

How did her father know someone like him?

"Is this to your liking?" Carlos asked behind, hands tucked in his pocket.

"To my liking?"

"There are others," he muttered flatly.

Others? How many houses does he have?

"I figured out you'd prefer something this simple," he added.

"It's fine," she shrugged. "It doesn't really matter. I won't be here for long."

He ignored her words and pushed his glasses up. "The staff will bring you food. Eat, and rest." He said.

Then, he ordered the driver to take her to her room before striding away.

~~~~

"You're in the city?!" Chelsea exclaimed on the other side of the phone.

"Yup," Kyla rolled to the other side of her bed. "It's been three days. I'm still trying to adapt."

"That is awesome. Why are you just telling me this now? Could have come over and taken you around."

Kyla sighed. "Never mind, Chelsea. I won't be staying long."

"Why not? The city is fun. Forget all that your father said about here. Yeah, it might be sometimes dangerous, but it's extremely fun too. I missed you, Kyla. We should meet. Besides, you need to cheer up."

Chelsea was Kyla's cousin, who moved to the city last year. She'd begged Kyla to come with her, but Kyla was adamant about staying and soon realized how much she missed Chelsea.

"So, is this mysterious friend of your father treating you well?"

"I haven't seen him in the last three days. But from what I can tell... He is grumpy. Too commanding. You should see the way he shoved me into his car," Kyla gritted as she recalled.

"Hot. Sounds like one of those possessive mafia shit."

"No, it's not," her face squeezed with distaste.

"Listen. I'm pretty sure your dad made this decision for a reason. You'll be fine."

"I'm not staying."

"Quit being stubborn. Jayden will be thrilled to hear you're here."

A shadow fell over Kyla's face at the mention of the name. Hesitant, she said. "I haven't... spoken with him in a month," her second hand fidgeted with the hem of her dress. "Even after my father died, he never called or texted. Never visit."

"Are you in a fight with him?"

Kyla exhaled. "He barely contacts me ever since he left for the city. He's fading off each day, Chelsea, and... I don't know what to do."

That was one of the many reasons she hated the city. The environment changes people. Make them forget where they came from. Forget those they care for as they sink into the chaotic life.

Noting the tension, Chelsea changed the topic and told her about the club she works for and the wildlife in it.

After an hour, the call ended. Kyla was once again surrounded by the four walls of loneliness.

"Why did he bring me here if he was going to disappear?" She swung her legs off the bed, deciding to have a snack downstairs. "So much for a guardian, huh?"

A pair of ice blue eyes met hers as she swung the door open. Carlos stood at the threshold, one hand mid-air as if he was about to knock.

He was in a grey suit, with his hair gelled backward. His silver earrings shimmered under the dim light.

"Oh, look who is here." She folded her arms, trying to sound neutral. "You are doing a great job keeping me company, Mr. Illegal."

He put his hands back in his pockets. "You hated my company three days ago. Hated it so much, you decided not to respond to my text or calls."

"I do not want to have anything to do with you."

He threw his head backward with a sigh, then took a step into the room. Then another.

And another.

Eyes piercing through her.

Kyla instinctively stepped back, her heart hammering in her rib cage. "What are you doing?"

"You don't listen, do you?" he said. His voice ran deeply low. The kind that would make the back of your hair stand and make you obey without realizing.

Kyla's back touched the wall.

"Don't come any closer," she warned, but her voice didn't sound as fierce as she wanted.

Carlos stopped in front of her. Enough for her to feel the heat radiating off his suit.

Her breath hitched.

"You think ignoring me will change the fact that you're here? That you're under my care?"

"I didn't ask for this."

"It doesn't matter what you want. Your father trusted me, and I don't break promises."

"Then transfer custody," she snapped. "You have connections, don't you? Lawyers, money, whatever you are, just sign the papers and let me go back to my life."

"You really think it's that simple?" Carlos leaned, one hand above her, the other in his pocket. "You're not here because of the law. You're here because of danger."

"Danger from whom?"

"That," he said, "is something you'll know when you're ready. For now... eat, live your life, I won't interfere. Just stay where I can see you and always respond to my texts and calls."

"So I'm a bird in a golden cage?" Kyla let out a bitter laugh. "I don't need you, Mr. Redd. I'm going to leave, whether you like it or not, even if you tie me to the bed."

The words spilled out before she could stop herself.

Well, you'd say anything when a hot devil in a suit has you trapped between his super annoying charm and a dresser.

"Should I?" He raised a brow.

"Should you what?"

"Tie you to the fucking bed, Miss Harper."

Years of keeping a low profile in the depths of his dark, discreet world, Carlos never expected to be in this situation.

A situation where he had to babysit some feisty, daring twenty-two-year-old lady who had absolutely no idea what was going on.

John Harper's death had caught him off guard. Struck him like a thunderbolt and left him raging with so many questions. So many cracks.

Just in that fleeting moment he'd been away, this had happened. Some random shadow had struck.

The accident wasn't ordinary in the terms he had discovered. And Harper's last wish to protect his daughter only proved him right. Something doesn't add up. Something Harper himself had seen coming.

John Harper knew what kind of man Carlos was. The dark and dangerous things he usually pulls and always complains about the nature of his lifestyle, yet entrusts his daughter to him?

A sassy lady who was doing a pretty job of getting on his nerves. A contrast to the definition of what her father had described her to be-

Sweet, innocent, and never causes trouble. A kind of angel that loves being buried in her space, speaks with animals, has straight A's in her boring college in the countryside, loves painting, reading, and works in an animal clinic.

Right now, she was seated across, her dinner untouched. In a green hoodie, she sat with her arms around her folded knees.

She hadn't stopped staring at him for the last deafening twenty minutes.

Those doe-green eyes were boring holes into his skin.

Jesus Christ.

"Do you wear glasses all the time?" Her small voice finally broke the silence.

"And what does that have to do with you?"

"I'm trying to start a conversation here, Mr. Redd," there was a subtle crack in her voice. "You are my guardian. I should get to know you."

Great. Carlos, what have you gotten yourself into?

He stabbed into his steak, taking a piece into his mouth.

"I don't like contacts," he said. "They make my eyes itch."

"So... How do you know my father?" She asked. "I didn't see you at his funeral."

"Your father was an old business partner, and I wasn't in the country for his funeral."

She went silent for a breath too long. The air was heavy with the kind of silence that reminded him of the fact that the asshole who was behind Harper's death was roaming freely.

Kyla tilted her head, ready to judge him.

"You don't look like some business partner. I know everyone who worked with my father."

Carlos sat back. "And what do I look like?"

"The kind of man my father will never want me around. Like a mysterious dude that screams danger."

She was right. Even though Harper talks about his daughter like his world, he never talks about them actually meeting, and Carlos didn't mind that. But now, Harper had left one thing he treasured the most in his hands.

"Eat before it gets cold, Wildling."

She crooked her nose at the nickname, or perhaps at the quiet confirmation that he was dangerous.

She obliged without arguing. Her fork clicked against the plate as she began to eat.

"So, do you have a wife?"

That caught him off guard.

He was expecting more questions that'd make him gather the right words to say.

"No."

Her brows perked. "Girlfriend"

"I don't do stuff like that."

"Oh...Kay... I guess I won't have to worry about some random woman storming in and having weird thoughts about us being a couple or something."

Carlos scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself. That will never happen."

"What do you mean? That I'm not your type? Just a while ago, you threatened to tie me to bed," she mumbled, mouthful. "Why don't you have one? You look like the type of man women would fall over for."

His fork paused mid-air. "Do you ever shut up?"

"Not really," she shrugged. "Silence is boring. So, answer my question."

He exhaled. "Why do you really want it?"

"You're a stranger. My dad trusts you, and I want to know if I can as well. You're not in a relationship. Might be a red flag."

Carlos was good at reading people. Well enough to know what this green-eyed chatterbox was thinking. He'd seen the hint when he pinned her against the dresser-the one too many women had cast at him.

And one thing he didn't want was those stares turning into something far more complicated than babysitting. It was only a matter of time before the questions turned into something else.

And hell no.

He wasn't letting that happen.

So, he did the one thing he was good at. He lied. Smooth. Effortless.

"I'm gay."

Kyla almost choked on her juice, eyes wide as if he'd admitted he was the one who started World War II.

"W-wait, what?"

"You heard me," he said. "I don't do relationships with women. End of story."

She blinked her wide eyes. And for the first time they've met, this was the first time she was actually speechless.

Then a smile curled her lips. "Oh, now that makes so much sense."

Carlos raised a brow. "Does it?"

"Yes! The moody aura, the no girlfriend thing," she pointed her fork at him. "And here I was thinking you were some bachelor with commitment issues. But you're secretly into guys. Wow, my gay radar needs some honing."

She actually bought it.

Great.

"Sooooo... Do you have a boyfriend?"

Carlos dropped his fork, rising from his chair. That's enough talk for today.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To bed."

"Wait!"

Carlos almost rolled his eyes before facing her. "What?"

She hesitated for a second, then rose from her chair and quickly held the sleeve of his white shirt. Her lips pursed in thought, opened and closed a few times before spilling what was in her mind.

"Can I go somewhere?"

Carlos squinted.

"I want to visit someone," she said. "His place is nearby. I wanted to go myself, but your grumpy security won't let me, and I know if I had told you on the phone, you wouldn't let me go alone. So, will you please tell your driver to take me there?"

How did this feisty little wildling with a sharp tongue suddenly sound polite?

Carlos crossed his arms. "Who is it?"

"His name is Jayden." Her eyes lit up. "My boyfriend."

"Boyfriend? You have a boyfriend?"

The subtle smile on her face vanished. "Why do you sound like I can't have one? I'm twenty-two."

"More like I'm wondering what kind of saint has the patience to survive you."

"Excuse me?" She looked ready to skin him alive. "God. You're insufferable. Am I going or not?"

Judging by the way she folded her arms, her lips pursing in a conspirational triangle as if there was a storm of malicious thoughts swarming her head. She would unmistakably turn the house into a warzone if he said no.

Great job, Harper. You're probably smiling whenever you are watching your daughter twisting my nerves every damn time.

"Fine."

Carlos took a deep, calming breath and grabbed the keys from the table behind her.

Her eyes followed his movement, brows creased as if wanting to protest.

"I'm taking you. No argument," he said, already heading for the door without waiting for her response.

He is sure as hell gonna regret this.