Happy Never After. (Sequel to I Will Survive)

Chapter 6.

Scarlett's POV

            I feel sorry for the inside of cheek, I had been chewing on it so much I'm surprised there was actually any skin left. The silence within the car was tormenting. I didn't want to say anything to end the awkwardness though. I was too busy lost in my own thoughts. I had no idea what was to come of the next hour or so of my life. I wanted answers to questions I had asked days ago. I was going to be faced to face with Damian, he couldn't run now and I'm pretty sure Louis wouldn't let him out of his sight either. Speaking of Louis, his hands were gripped so tight round the steering wheel I was just waiting for him to pull the whole console apart. We hadn't argued at all but the look on his face probably told a different story. I was scared of what he was going to say to Damian, let alone do to him. Damian didn't even know he was coming so this encounter was bound to be interesting.

           

The car pulled up to the office block, although it looked swankier than just a plain old concrete building. This was where all my 'work' related things took place. It was modernised, the floors were pearly white, the walls were covered with glass tiles and the furniture was definitely unique. Not quite my style but it's better than some beat up old sofa and concrete floors, which it could have been. Every car in the designated car park matched the interior and the people driving them, stylish and expensive. Although if I was earning some of the amounts of money like the people in this place did, I wouldn't mind handing over a couple hundred thousands pounds for a car, even if I did only live twenty minutes down the road.

I wasn't necessarily feeling grumpy however I wasn't exactly beaming like a ray of sunshine. I was tired; I had paced the length of the living room last night at least fifty times anticipating today. I don't know why I was so worried. I kept reminding myself nothing bad would happen, but Louis or Damian could be unpredictable.  I wasn't in the mood to jump in between two grown men, although Damian was as camp as you could get, so he wouldn't essentially get into any sort of fighting position, he might ruin his manicure or something. I sound as if I hate him, I don't. He acted like my best friend during my last tour but the other night and the deadbeat phone call was playing on my mind and I just couldn't shake it.

"Scarlett, you coming?" Louis was stood waiting at my side of the car, holding the door open like a gentleman. I just realised I had been staring out of the front of the car for a multitude of seconds, ignoring the world around me. I felt a small blush creep up on my cheeks as I realised how dazed I probably looked. Unfortunately the car park didn't have security gates so we were swamped with paparazzi. I don't know what sort of story they were hoping to get out of this; I wasn't going to flash them or anything...although that would make an interesting headline. Scarlett, no. I mentally warned myself. My mind was going off on one of its tangents again.

"Sorry, I was uh..."

"Thinking?" Louis finished my sentence for me as he took my hand, guiding me somewhat elegantly out of the car. He pushed the door shut behind me and we began our battle towards the door. As usual we ignored the remarks made by grown men with cameras too big for their own good. They could probably get a real nice close up of the pimple on my forehead or the love bite on my neck which I had somewhat attempted to cover up with make-up, however I am no make-up artist and I'm pretty I made it worse. I'm pretty sure the fans by now know that the deed had been done. If it wasn't obvious enough anyway, one time Louis was caught with his hand fumbling under my shirt in the middle of a public place, if that doesn't give it away then the only thing left to do is make a sex tape and release it to the world. And there goes the crazy part of my brain again.

"Something like that." I smiled up at him. I took in his lean torso that was easily noticeable through his tight polo shirt he had decided to wear. I wasn't complaining though. Our hands clung together as if our lives depended on it as we hauled ourselves through the swarm of men.