Vermilion Desire Read online

This is the safest place. I have Cal who is the best paternal figure despite being an old man who was not happy with the agreement to be my caretaker when I was sixteen, and I don’t think anyone would be happy to live with a teenager who isn’t their biological child.

  I also have Mr. Wolf. Nothing beats seeing him smile at me, hands on my body to swat away the dangerous hands that try to get to me, and unequivocal possessiveness etched under his skin alongside the ink on his body.

  I want more of that side of him. The side that resembles an animal, a caged and ferocious beast that wants to claw its way out of him to get to me.

  Curling into the bed, I don’t hide the smile.

  Chapter Two

  Wolf

  “Shit,” Cal hisses as he hangs up the phone. “The station is being flooded.”

  I lower the cup of water from my lips, watching the man in front of me scratch his head. we have been up all night trying to find new leads that can close one of the most frustrating cases I have ever come across.

  “A busted pipe and everyone is evacuated, and no one can be there. Somehow, the goddamn sewer water burst out of the bathroom.”

  I chuckle under my breath. Our station isn’t the best in terms of conditions because it’s one of the oldest buildings in New York City. It’s about time they change locations, and the mayor doesn’t want to spend his precious money on things that don’t benefit him.

  “Is everything flooded?” I raise an important question. I have nothing at my desk that’s too important for me to go back and get, and all of my files have been saved on a USB drive that I always have backed up.

  “No, only the bottom floor is. It’s not too severe that it reached our floor.” Cal chugs down the rest of his beer.

  His alcohol tolerance is legendary, and no one has ever won against him in a drinking game. It’s dangerous for competitive people, and they want to win against him, but no one has been able to. It doesn’t help that reckless Cal likes to egg people on by poking at their pride.

  I hated having him as my partner at the beginning, but ten years have passed, and sometimes I still hate him. He’s family now, but family can have playful resentments.

  “It shouldn’t take too long,” Cal mentions briefly. “They just have to preserve the evidence.”

  I flip another page of the infuriating crime. We have the suspect, and we knew damn well it’s him who had done the crime, but there is contradicting evidence to the forensic reports and his statement.

  “Let’s take a break.” I close the files and pinch the bridge of my nose before pressing the heel of my palms to my eyes.

  The words were starting to blur, and it won’t yield any new results if I force myself to read the entire case over. I have everything memorized, and I just keep hoping something would jump at me.

  The family deserves justice, and I want to give that to them because their daughter had been brutally taken from them by a man who has money and a rich dad supporting him. We have to make an iron-clad case, or he’s going to go free.

  The court case starts in one week, and it’s going to take as long as it takes because the district attorney and everyone in the precinct know that rich boy and his family will drag the case for so long that it will prolong the pain of the victim’s family.

  The rich family of Braxton Berkshire is a well-loved family in the eyes of society. They can’t do anything wrong just because they have stayed out of the drama and donate to charity.

  When the news broke out that Braxton has been arrested for the sexual assault and murder of eighteen-year-old Lana Addison, everyone defended the young man with fervor and blamed the deceased victim for her own death.

  Humans are blind and despicable, and they are more than blind when faced with evidence that they don’t want to see. In their eyes, he’s a genius pianist and the perfect husband-material for the women who are obsessed with him.

  First glance, he’s a clean-cut and outstanding young man with award-winning performances and academic achievements. Everything on paper is perfect, a little too perfect, in my opinion. Before this case, I have only briefly heard him on the news, and nothing about him brought too much attention to me.

  He was just another child prodigy like my precious little red. She is something special, and he doesn’t compare to her. She shines brighter than anyone I have seen, more beautiful and more brilliant than everyone.

  Nothing can change my mind.

  Braxton is just a murderous brat hiding in the façade of perfection. After being bailed out during the hearing, the Addison family was wracked with tears while the rich Berkshire family walked out to the media to explain that the police just wants to make an example out of Braxton and use him as a scapegoat.

  I don’t know where the hell he got the idea, but he believes that this frame job is orchestrated by someone who wants to smear the good Berkshire name. I can’t believe the media brought the damn lawyer’s words.

  I guess it is what he’s being paid for. To bullshit and to shift attention to the murder seems like it’s a no big deal as if it’s just a robbery.

  There are many criminals that I have come across that I want to punch; Braxton makes it to the top of the list along with his ‘No comment’ and ‘Don’t answer that’ hundred-dollar an hour lawyer.

  “Go wake up that sleeping pig; she shouldn’t sleep so much.” Cal grunts, dragging his hand down his face.

  He’s exhausted, and so am I. A whole night of looking over the same information took a toll on us, and I need to recharge through the touch of my lovely girl in red.

  I stand from the chair and make my way to the bedroom while my ears pick up the sound of pans hitting the stove.

  The door creaks open as I slip in quietly to not disturb her. It’s close to ten in the morning, and she’s a sound asleep. The rise and fall of my blanket mark the curve of her body as she fits perfectly in the center of my bed.

  I sit on the edge, running my hand through her red hair and rubbing her scalp. She purrs in her sleep, murmuring my name in her pink lips and sighing in peace.

  Biting the inside of my cheek, I resist the urge to bend down and kiss her. It would be easy, just one kiss, and it would sate the constant itch to possess her.

  I can’t. I shake my head. She’s too young for an old man like me. I’m the last person that should defile her innocence. Being in the force for more than ten years, I have experienced the worst of humanity, and some of the evil lingers in my heart.

  These bloodied hands have no right to touch her beautiful body and taint her purity. I want to, though. I know every man that looks at her wants to have her for themselves. Five years of containing myself and using my hand as relief, it’s a constant battle with myself to just give up that control to allow the beast hungrily to devour her.

  It’s tempting.

  “Morning,” a raspy voice greets.

  I peer down to the drowsy girl, smiling at her adorableness as she sighs. She has no intention of leaving the lump of warmth as I keep my run a constant movement in her hair.

  I’ll have to get a mattress on the ground for me to sleep on. Scarletta is not sleeping on the floor; her body is meant for my bed, and I’m not too keen on her taking the couch either.

  “Cal is making breakfast. Go wash up and come to the kitchen.”

  “He sucks at cooking.” She groans, hiding her face into the cover for a moment before she grumpily sticks her head out.

  I’m sure it can’t be that bad. Cal and I work on unstable shifts because even if our shift is over, there are emergency calls that kick us out of bed without remorse. It takes a while to get used to, and no one is truly able to withstand that kind of lifestyle.

  I love my job too much to retire. I’m not at that age yet, but being a detective is a high-risk career that allows me to have an earlier retirement age.

  Due to that fact, we aren’t able to make food, so readymade food is our best friend.

  I wrap my hand around her small arm, and with a little b
it of strength, she’s flying up with a mop of red hair falling on her face. She whines, shaking her head with a huff.

  Scarletta drops her head down on my thigh, rubbing her head on me and sighing before she closes her eyes again.

  This isn’t good. When she is innocently mimicking an affectionate cat, her head nudged the tent in my pants. I’m hard and struggling to not make a sound to scare her away, but it’s impossible to be unaffected by her.

  I thread my hand through her hair to stop her squirming head; she murmurs with heavy eyes. Her big amber eyes blink hazily up at me, confusion falling on her pretty face as she purrs deep in her throat.

  “Mr. Wolf?” she questions softly.

  I feel like I’m living up to my name. The stalker tendencies of needing to know her every movement throughout the day, the haunting obsession that threatens my ability to judge a character at first glance because everyone is an enemy in my eyes who wants to steal my little red.

  The big bad wolf is not happy with that thought.

  “Be a good girl and go wash up.” I pet her head, and she closed her eyes again.

  “Why? It’s so early—” Before she could finish her sentence, the alarm on her phone startles her as her body jerks in surprise. I hold her down just in time as her eyes widen in realization.

  “Oh!” she yelps. “I’m going to be late!”

  She scrambles out of my lap and darts out of the bedroom until I hear Cal’s voice calling for her to be careful because he’s not paying for her hospital bills if she cracks her skull open.

  Maybe I should start measuring my floors to install carpets. It’ll absorb more impact than wooden floors.

  I bring my pillow up to my nose, inhaling the sweet scent and growling in my throat. A part of me wants to throw hygiene out of the window and never wash this pillow or the sheets, but I remember that Scarletta will be living with me for the next six months while Cal is busy with his captain training.

  I’ll have to think of a way to make this living situation permanent.

  “Mr. Wolf? Are you coming?” Scarletta pokes her head through the door with a grin.

  I jerk my head, standing from the bed and dropping the pillow hastily. If she saw me being a damn pervert, she doesn’t mention it as she skips down the hall with a bounce in her steps. It also triggers her perky round ass to move in such a hypnotizing way.

  “I got delivery,” Cal says as he points to the bags of food.

  It’s expected from a man who has never cooked in his life. I’m decent in the kitchen, nothing too delicious because I like simplicity, and the fewer dishes mean I have more time to relax from a strenuous day of work.

  “You should sign up for cooking classes, uncle.” Scarletta digs through the bag.

  Her eyes wander around the messy kitchen table with a bunch of scattered papers. She stops at a picture of Braxton Berkshire, and she just stares, no emotion flashing in her eyes as she blinks. Cal collects the papers with a loud rasp of his knuckles on her skull; she winces with a grimace before pouting at him.

  “What did I say about being nosy?” he asks, but he’s not expecting an answer as Scarletta bites into a waffle with her bare hands.

  She shrieks, taking her hands off the steaming waffle, and puffy steam erupts from the broken piece of waffle between her teeth.

  My body reacted before I could think and pull the piece of food from her mouth. By the time I got my hand on it, it’s already cool enough to handle as she licks her teeth with a flinch.

  “Good?” I inquire quietly.

  She nods, opening her mouth for the piece of waffle in my hand. I would like to feed her something else as my cock throbs dully in my pants. The need to deal with it becomes stronger as she sticks out her tongue to welcome the waffle back into her waiting mouth.

  I watch her chew with rosy cheeks and a soft happy hum while the nagging feeling of being watched at the side of my head makes me turn to look at Cal. He’s judging the shit out of me with his eyes as he tears out a piece of the bread.

  He’s a smart man; he knows about the attraction I have for Scarletta, and it goes beyond obsession. I’m in love with this naïve and too innocent woman who has no idea that I want to do naughty things to her.

  She teases, unaware that the line she treads on leans more towards the predatory side of me than the disciplined detective aspect.

  “I have to stay at the research facility, uncle.” Scarletta swallows her food.

  Cal pulls his gaze away from the file in his hand and nods. “Call me when you’re done.”

  Then he pauses, casting me a knowing look before I know what he means. “If I don’t pick up, call Wolf. He’ll come to get you.”

  She grins. “Okay!”

  Scarletta works as a research student in the rare disease department of the privately-funded research facility that works with a lot of renowned and famous medical professionals to bring good to the world.

  Her goal is to be a researcher for rare diseases so she can help people, but she is also interested in the mysteries that surround many illnesses. She’s working towards it, and I’m proud of her for being able to tell the male-dominated workplace stereotypes to fuck off.

  “I have to go now,” she says with a muffled voice from her waffle. I want her to have a bit more breakfast before she leaves, but she is looking for the backpack that she left here the other day.

  “I’ll drive you.” Snatching the keys off the counter, I walk to the door with her waiting for me as I hear the Cal’s scoff.

  I look over my shoulder and playfully shoot him a glare; he nonchalantly purses his lips at me as if he is asking me what I’m going to do to him. I have no time to entertain his childish whims as I unlock the car for Scarletta.

  I wave back to Cal and mention that I’ll be back to go through the box of evidence again. We still have a long way to go because we’ll be called in as witnesses and professional statements in court when both sides get to cross-examine us.

  As the main detectives on the case, we can’t push aside court appearances just for the hell of it. Sometimes it takes one opinion or fact to change the outcome of the jury’s verdict.

  “Mr. Wolf!” Scarletta waves her hand out from the open door. “Quickly!”

  I step towards the car and drop into the car seat while she secures her seatbelt. “I can’t be late.”

  The car purrs and slides out of the driveway. “Maybe you should put your alarm thirty minutes earlier.”

  She huffs, clawing her nails through her hair to make the messy strands go down. “It’s not my fault that your bed is so comfortable, and you smell good too!”

  It’s dangerous driving with her next to me. I almost put pressure on the gas pedal when she said that, and my heart swelled in accomplishment because I was able to help her sleep. What kind of strange ass man am I to be happy about the prettiest little thing having a good night's sleep?

  She doesn’t notice as she blabs on. “Beth Senior and Beth Junior aren’t very keen on tardiness.”

  “Why do you call them that?” I ask as we stop at the red light.

  She taps her chin with her other hand curled around the gray seatbelt. “One of them is Bethany, and the other is Elizabeth, but they both grew up with Beth as their nickname, so we went by seniority—as in age, but no one wants to trigger a woman’s wrath when their maturity is called into question.”

  “Your maturity needs to be called into question,” I remark plainly.

  She slaps her hand onto my thigh with a pout, her nails dig into my pants, and it does nothing but makes my cock press harshly against the zipper. She’s going to kill me with her innocent gestures, and she has no idea what she is doing to me when she huffily scrunches her nose at me.

  Too fucking cute, I think, as the steering wheel imprints on my palms.

  “I’m sorry, baby. You’re perfect,” I hiss out, and my eyes dangerously flicker to her as I catch myself with the pet name.

  Fuck. This isn’t the time to make a
mistake on a damn highway where cars are flying down the stretch of road.

  “Good!” she exclaims. “I want to be perfect for Mr. Wolf and Uncle Cal.”

  I have to remind myself that she’s too damn young for an old man like me to put moves on her. It should be illegal for me to have these thoughts, but it’s these images of her in my head that gets me through the days that are extra tough.

  Being able to push aside the blood and gore pictures from crime scenes, I can go to sleep with her sweet smile and playful touches.

  I park the car in the visitor’s slot and unbuckle my seatbelt as she jumps out of the car. She waits for me as I lock the car and walk with her to the facility. Its foundation color is neutral, nothing too harsh on the eyes, nor does it stand out other than being a heavily secured building.

  The furthest I can walk with her is the entrance with a guard standing there, ready to step in if I dare to put one foot into the automatic double sliding doors.

  Scarletta waves at the guard and he waves back, and I want to smack the smug smile off his lips. Or maybe I’m just reading too much into facial expressions. Anyone who looks at my Scarletta with more than a friendly gaze tug at the chains in me.

  “Thank you for the ride, Mr. Wolf!” She stands on her toes, pulling at the back of my neck to plant a kiss on my cheek.

  “I’ll call you when I’m done!” Scarletta runs in with a wave of her hand over her head before she disappears out of my view.

  I haven’t come around to understand what just happened, but I still feel the softness of her pink lips on me and the smell of sweetness.

  She’s really trying to kill me.

  Chapter Three

  Scarletta

  “What’re you looking at?” Beth Senior presses her face to mine as my eyes read over the lines.

  She snorts, kneading my shoulders. “Ah, I didn’t think you’d be the type to fall for Catholic schoolboys.”

  “I’m not.” I look over the picture again.

  The man is young, near his late twenties, with his hair combed to the side. Braxton Berkshire has a distinctive appearance, but it’s also average. Maybe I’m biased, and I have Mr. Wolf as a standard to compare all the men I see, but I don’t find Braxton any more attractive than an average man.