Hate That I Love You

Chapter 27

Harry came home, almost on tiptoe, the next late afternoon. He had no desire to go home before him, he was too low in spirits to face his father's anger again.

And yes, he still did not want to ask himself specifically the reason for his terrible sadness.

As soon as he crossed the threshold of the house, however, he noticed a different movement. Suitcases on suitcases were placed at the entrance, in front of the door and still more luggage was carried by the waitresses who worked there.

He frowned, confused, and took off his jacket, immediately grabbed by an attendant. "My father?" he asked the woman.

The woman bit her lip. "Are you sure you want to know, Master Styles?" she asked.

"Um, yes?" he replied hesitantly.

"He's in the dining room, he's not in a good mood, sir."

Harry sighed. "And I also know the reason. Thanks, anyway" she smiled at him finally. Then, taking courage, he went directly to the dining room and, without knocking, entered it. "I'm home," he announced.

The man was seated at the end of the long table, his hands intertwined, his elbows on the table and his gaze terribly serious. "Finally," he said. "I thought I locked you in the house."

"And I thought I was of age and that I could be free to do what I wanted," Harry replied. "Apparently we were both wrong," he said bitterly as he approached. "What's going on? Why are there so many suitcases?"

The man, always terribly serious, looked up at his son. "Why, you are moving," he informed him.

"What?" Harry asked, frowning.

"Since you like that apartment in central London so much, you're moving there," he said, folding his arms. "And next time, if you want to sneak out at least tell the reception to cover for you."

Harry sat in the chair, sighing deeply. "And now? What else do you want to do? Do you want to punish me again?" he asked him ironically. "Is there anything else you want to threaten to take away from me?"

"I will do absolutely nothing, because this will be your last stunt," he nodded seriously. "I won't let you hang out with him again."

"I won't," he denied. "And I don't understand why I should move"

"Because I don't want you to see him," he growled. "And now there are too many feet away to separate you."

"I already told you!" Harry exclaimed. "I won't. I will never see him. "

"I don't want to if I don't trust you. And above all, I don't trust that scum you let into your life without even asking my consent."

"Because it's my life," he said through gritted teeth. "I decide what to do with it!"

"You're wrong. As long as you live with my money, I have every right to make decisions for you. If you want to be free to do whatever you like, you just have to give it up." He shrugged. "And now, go say bye to your mother. You'll be leaving soon."

Harry bit his tongue hard to avoid sending him to that country in a really unkind way, he preferred not to say anything given the already extremely delicate situation.

He decided that maybe taking a little distance from his father, from Louis, wasn't a bad idea. Perhaps, for once, subconsciously, his father was doing him a favour.

He jumped out of his chair and quickly headed for the exit.

"You are my son, Harold," his father told him as he was almost out of the room. "I'm doing it just for you."