Cupid's Defence

Chapter 7

 vii.

Louis ran.

He ran as though his life depended on it. All he could think about was the prospect of Sheila, real and painful and terrifying, in the same room as Harry. In the same space as him. What if she convinced him to give up the trial? What if she pressured him into admitting his guilt on camera? What if they'd already left by the time he got there? What if they'd taken Harry away? What if-- what if they ruined everything?

He'd never jabbed at a lift button more angrily in his life. How dare she-- How dare they-- do this? Why couldn't they just get a hint? Why couldn't they just do this normally? What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck--

There were bodyguards watching him as he raced into the apartment, heart throbbing, and slammed the door behind him. He saw Tim Lyvoninsky sat on the sofa, a cup of water in his hands, and he saw Niall, staring, eyes wide. When Louis entered, they both turned to look at him.

"Get out of my apartment," Louis spat, and Tim raised an eyebrow.

"It's so nice to see you."

"Leave," Louis pressed, "Just-- just leave."

"I am here to talk to your client," Tim spoke, "On behalf of my wife."

"Your ex-wife, don't you mean?" Niall chirped, and Tim sent him a dark look.

What the fuck did he want with Harry? Louis' heart thundered.

"He's not here. Get out."

"There are sparkles on the floor," Tim indicated, politely so, "It is the same sparkles we saw on the day we met."

"So what?" Niall shrugged, "I've fuckin' told you. We had a party last night. There was confetti."

"He isn't fooling anyone," Tim laughed, lifelessly, and looked at Louis, "Is he?"

"Get," Louis couldn't breathe, "Out."

"Lou, I've tried," Niall said, compassionately, "He won't fuckin' leave."

"I'm calling the police." Louis spoke, and reached for his phone. Tim tutted: a little shake of the head.

"Mr Tomlinson," he spoke, as if he was being completely reasonable, "There's no need to complicate things."

"Watch me," Louis picked up his phone.

"There's nothing you can do to stop me," Tim mused, "You know that."

"Aside from report your ass," Louis' hand clenched.

"Ah, yes, like you did last time," Tim grinned, "It was a rather good read, I must admit. Of course, I deleted it, but that's neither here nor there..."

"How did--" Niall looked between them both, "How did he find out about the report?"

"I have friends in high places," Tim clarified, "As does my wife."

"So what?" Louis clenched his jaw, "That makes it okay to break the fucking law?"

"Why not?" The man smiled, "What are you going to do, Mr Tomlinson? Report me?"

The patronising hung in the air, and Louis closed his eyes. It took all of his strength not to punch the fucker right in the nose, but then he remembered Liam's words, and tried to calm himself...

"Now," Tim crossed his legs, "If it's not too much trouble, I'm going to have a little chat with your client."

Louis didn't even hesitate. "No."