* THIS STORY CONTAINS MATURE & EXPLICIT CONTENT*
Please refer to the list of possible triggers and kinks.
Harry Styles. Twenty-Five. Green eyes. One hundred and ninety-six pounds. Six foot even or one hundred and eighty-seven centimetres. Born to...
There will be a lot of time skips in this chapter. I will label each one. Enjoy, my lovelies.
Reminder: Wren is one of Astar's friends that also works for MI6 in case you forgot.
Monte Carlo, Monaco.
August 24th. Wednesday. 08:36.
Arrival at Hôtel de Paris Monte Carlo. T minus 2 days before practice heist.
The second Louis' feet make contact with the hot pavement, he's complaining, slamming the door to the Bentley shut which makes the driver yell out profanities once again in French.
The humidity. The smell of the salt from the ocean. How hot it is. He even complains about how long it took the driver to get from the private tarmac to our hotel.
The driver ended up cursing at him in French, not realising that the entirety of the car also knew French. However, it shut Louis right up and he slumped down in his seat, the blood rushing to the apple's of his cheeks as he tried to disappear.
"Vous, les riches Anglais, venez ici pour les yachts, les filles et la drogue. Personne ne veut d'un homme trapu et vaniteux." The man spat, tapping his finger incessantly on the screen of the GPS that continuously sent him on a different route. Due to the traffic, we were constantly being rerouted.
Of all words to describe Louis, I personally wouldn't have used stocky but the more I look at him, the more it resonates with him.
Harry's hand breaks me from my thoughts as he reaches over to grab my sunglasses from off atop my head, placing them on his own face, right over his eyes. "What?" He questions as he sees the expression on my face. "It's clear you aren't going to put them on and unfortunately, the bag boys are carrying my bags up to our suite."
My brain seems to short circuit at the word suite. I know Harry has a lot of money, but we're only here for four days give or take. We're hopping on the jet the second the heist is over. "H...I don't think a suite is necessary." To which he just gives a shrug of his shoulders. I'm terrified to ask just how much it costs considering we're in Monte Carlo.
"Oh, for fucks sake," I hear from behind me, the sound of a shoe dragging across the pavement following seconds later.
"Oi! Wait up," The voice shouts, dragging the shoe across the pavement as they run to catch up with us as we start ascending the stairs to the entrance of the hotel.
"I've stepped in dog shit. You can't walk any slower for me?" Louis groans, hearing Niall's laugh follow suit as he lifts Louis up, carrying the man into the hotel. I place my hand over my mouth to try and stifle my laughs, seeing the woman behind the counter giving us looks.
The first thing that hits my nose is the smell of lobster that one of the restaurants seems to be starting on, making my stomach rumble but I know that the restaurants probably don't open for another few hours.
12:36 pm // T minus two days until practice heist
Princess Grace Diamond Suite
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