Do I Wanna Know?

Chapter 14

"I'm sorry, fired?" I raised my voice loud enough for Harry to hear over the music and chatter. "You're joking."

"I'm not, actually," Harry adjusted his arms in his jacket, then stepped forward to grab my bicep so I was forced to walk with him.

Now I felt like that pathetic idiot Zayn dragged out to the sidewalk as I stumbled to keep up with Harry in my heels. He wasn't joking, that much I now knew.

"Get your things, and I'm taking you home," he stopped outside the dressing room door and released me.

"Harry, I—"

"Now, Grace," he seethed. "Do not make me ask again."

I looked him up and down for a second, debating whether or not I should ask him who the hell he thinks he is, but with the way he was looking at me I opted to obey instead.

Maybe I was being dramatic, but I almost started crying as I changed into the clothes I wore on the way here and took the polaroids down in my locker. Surely he was just upset and didn't actually mean I was fired-fired, right? Just for tonight?

The second I stepped back out into the hallway, Harry dragged me out through the back door to the parking lot for employees only, where he all but threw me into the passenger seat of his stupid fucking Lamborghini.

When the butterfly door was taking too long to close, I reached up in my seat and slammed it down. Harry did the same thing on his side, muttering for me to put my seatbelt on as he yanked the gear into reverse.

Maybe after 40 straight minutes of driving in silence, I finally said, "You can't fire me. I didn't do anything wrong."

"Yes I can," he replied evenly. "I own the goddamn place, sweetheart. I can do whatever I want."

"Okay, but for what reason?" I raised my voice now, and the second I did, Harry spared me a glance before he stepped on the gas. We were almost home.

"I don't need a reason to do anything, Grace," he mumbled under the sound of his engine revving as he ran a near red light.

"So it's just because of that guy?" I scoffed. "I didn't ask him to grab my ass, Harry. I'm a fucking stripper, it happens."

He smiled then, condescendingly. "Not anymore."

My own jaw clenched as he entered the code to get into the driveway, and I was already opening the car door before he fully shifted the car into park. Somehow, he still beat me to get out, and he stood there like he had been waiting for decades.

I practically threw my bag once we got inside, which resulted in various bills flying out to land somewhere in the living room, kicking my sneakers off next. It was a good thing there were a million bedrooms in the house so I could choose any of them but the one we were supposed to share.

"You're being fucking ridiculous," I muttered, marching my way up the stairs. "Like, an actual fucking psycho."

"What was that?" Harry called back as he dropped his keys with a loud clatter on the entry table.

I whipped around at the top of the stairs to make sure he heard me this time. "I said you're a fucking psychopath, Harry. A jealous and insecure psychopath."

That last part came out quieter when he raised his eyebrows at me, like he was giving me a chance to apologize before he started calmly making his way up the stairs. Why was I petrified but also kind of excited when he removed his jacket as he climbed the steps?

"Don't touch me," I was almost whispering now, but the words came out too late when he grabbed my arm again and started taking me to our bedroom.

I stumbled inside when he let go of me with force, then slammed the bedroom door so hard that the art on the white walls shook. All I could do was stand there as he loosened his tie and stepped out of his shoes, sighing in disappointment with his eyes closed.