Colorblind [h.s]

37

Harry's POV

December 28
12:11 am

I've been sitting at these fucking tall tables for over two hours. Mrs. Marchant came out to buy her pound of coke and then thankfully fucked off to somewhere else.

Louis came by to hand me some cash from the Leilack's, since apparently millionaire hotel owners also need three pounds of weed, probably to get them through the fuckin' day. Owning hotels spread out through California sounds great on paper, but I know owning a business can really fucking suck. Plus, they're way too fuckin' shady to have Violet try to talk to them.

Speaking of businesses, I should check on my inventory.

Louis' the only one beside me who wasn't busy back-to-back with deals and shit, and the boys figured he's better than me at smooth talking in a polite way.

I could be fuckin' polite if I wanted to. But I don't.

Other than that, I've been alone, which I normally prefer, but it'd be nice for them to at least fucking update me. The earpieces have been radio silent for at least an hour, and I haven't heard anything about Violet in awhile.

Focus on work.

If only it was that easy. Seeing her get out of Liam's car was easily the highlight of my week, she looked phenomenal. Everything about her is fucking perfect, I swear. Her hair cascading down her back, radiating from the golden glow of the sunset. Her purple makeup looked incredibly sexy, even though she obviously doesn't need any, but I could see the confidence beaming off her as she talked to the boys which caused me to smile like a fucking idiot. Seeing her as much as I do is still surreal to me.

But her fucking dress. I saw her from the window and had to stay in the car for a few minutes to calm myself down like a goddamn 16 year old. The way it hugged her body and showed off all of her curves, Christ.

I gotta thank Louis for giving her the money. I didn't have the balls to give it to her myself, and I feel like even if I did, she would've taken it the wrong way. I'm just happy she picked out a dress she likes.

I shake my head and force myself to stop thinking about her; I need to focus.

Louis and Violet should be in the process of stealing Ingrid Bechtel's tennis bracelet by now, which means I need to head towards the car and wait for Violet. I survey the patio in search of Niall and Zayn who should be finishing up their final deals of the night, when my eyes land on Mrs. Bechtel, talking and laughing with her husband by the picnic tables. Louis and Violet are nowhere to be found, and the silver tennis bracelet is still loosely strapped around her wrist.

What the fuck?

I check my watch.

12:23 am

Fuck.

I down the last of my champagne and try to think rationally before jumping to any conclusions. Violet probably just had to pee or something and lost track of time, or it wasn't safe to make the steal so Louis is waiting for a better opportunity.

I pull out my phone and check to see if there are any texts from the boys, even though I know there won't be. We usually stay off our phones during events like these; primarily using our earpieces to contact each other. We only bring them for the tracking aspect and in case of emergencies, although we've never had any problems in those arenas. Sure enough, there are zero texts from the boys, and I groan in annoyance.

I look back around the patio in case I overlooked any of them in my initial search, and once I spot Violet's purple dress, I'm rushing over to her.

"Where the fuck have you been?" I whisper-yell when I reach her.