Empire of Deception (Harry Styles AU)

Introduction

I stared at the stack of papers which rested on my desk, my eyes focusing on the ink which swirled into a name. My name. So many weeks spent debating whether or not I should sign that one piece of paper and now that I finally have… I still don’t feel the relief I desperately craved.

The sound of the telephone ringing shattered my state of mind and I fumbled to press the button, relieving my office of it’s shrill echo. 

“Yes?”

“Sorry to bother your Mr. Styles but Ms. Percy told me to tell you that you have that meeting in an hour—“

“Yes, I know, thank you April,” I said quickly before clicking off the receiver. 

No assistant meant April having to take the role of communicating information from the world outside my office to me. I could almost hear my father telling Janice to give me a list of eligible assistants since I know my work load was going to double in the months to come. I would refuse him, though. I’ve managed this many years without one, I think I can last a couple more. 

I sighed and pushed myself away from my desk, trying to break my gaze and my mind from the contract on my desk. It’s been less than two days since my pen touched the clean surface and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, every second questioning myself if I had made the right decision. 

I know my father is proud of me, but then again to him this was nothing but a power play; father and son not only collaborating but ruling over various sections of the company. I know I should be happy that this is another step for the business, but I can’t shake the feeling that there is something big I am missing. 

“April told me you hung up on her so I figured I better come down here and get your ass in the car,” I hear Janice say. Looking up, I see her blonde hair twirled into a tight knot and I wonder if it gives her headaches. A lot of other women seemed to sport this hair style as well, but theirs never looks as tight as hers. 

“Since when does April answer to you?” I ask. 

“Since you decided you were going to be difficult. Your not my priority, Harry, I have a million other things to do yet again I am here reminding you that you have a meeting in an hour.”

“I have a computer, Janice, and I am well aware of my appointments… April is too.”

“Oh forget April,” Janice sighs, eyeing the bourbon over in the corner of the room. “Damn it Harry it’s barely noon and your near forcing me to drink.”

Janice Percy, late 40’s, greying blonde hair, thin frame, perky blue eyes as icy as her soul, and assistant to my father, head of Bolton Inc. It took my father a few years to finally get over his fascination and lust for young, pretty, and submissive girls and realize that he needed someone who actually knew how to work and understood the requirements of this job.

I suppose that’s how you tell who is faking money and who actually has it; the real successful and powerful men in this city have slightly older assistants because they have come to the realization that the more experience these women have, the more successful their business is. Assistants are often dismissed but only someone of true corporate blood knows just how vital a good one is. 

“Get to it, Styles,” Janice barks before disappearing down the corridor. 

A few moments passed before I heard the ding of the lift signaling that Janice is officially leaving my floor. 

My floor.

My eyes found their way back to the contract resting on my desk, the feeling of power carefully zipping the tips of my fingers as if electricity was building within me. 

I shook the thoughts away as well as my pride, knowing very well that pride comes before the fall. 

Standing up, I grabbed my coat and headed out the door, not bothering to look at the clock on the wall. 

Soon enough I was in the lobby, watching people nod in acknowledgement towards me out of the corner of my eye. No doubt the news has already started spreading through the building like a disease.

I tightened my tie right before I reached the double doors leading outside into the city. 

“Good morning Mr. Styles,” repeats another, this time coming from the driver who has a car waiting for me. 

He opens the door as my fingers snap my cuff links into place. 

Pride or not, there was no denying that I was the heir to this Empire.