3. Babysit

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.