Elodie Hart;
"Tasting her is like heaven. But Harlow isn't heaven. Nor is she hell; Harlow is the f*cking devil herself, with her sharp intimidation and her cruel way of things, but she tastes nothing like it. She tastes of sweetness and determinati...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I open the car door, glancing over at the mansion. For some reason, it feels like weeks since I've been here. I mean, a lot has changed since I was last here.
When I was last here, me and Harlow were nothing compared to what we are now.
Last night at the cabin in Italy, Harlow helped me pack my bags and get ready to leave the next morning. It was... nice. I've never really had someone do something like that - use their own time to help me. She made sure all my clothes were folded neatly and perfectly and double-checked I had everything. Only then did she get back to preparing everything and everyone else for this morning. We set off as early as she mentioned, and I took her advice to get an early night's sleep. The flight went pretty quickly and getting us into cars and onto the road back in Spain went smoothly.
But even still I feel slightly tired.
I close the car door behind me and head to the boot for my things. Harlow insisted that I go in a car with her best men and women - excluding her brother as she stated - on my journey back to the mansion. I sat in the back with Simon, who did nothing but talk all the way through the drive, though I didn't mind. However, I am one hundred per cent sure that the driver did, because he looked like he was about to run us off of the motorway at any second during the drive.
As one of the men opens the back of the car and starts to retrieve the suitcases and bags, I grab my duffel bag and suitcase to carry them with me into the mansion, but he stops me.
"Miss DeLaine said no lifting, I will make sure they are taken to your room." He tells me, and my eyes widen. I immediately feel bad; no one should have to do that for me. Plus, I am more than okay with being able to do it myself.
"It's okay I can take them-"
He lifts a hand, as if to stop me and say no, then takes my suitcase and bag away from me.
I'm about to ask him if he's absolutely sure when I notice someone strutting towards me. I turn my head and meet eyes with Harlow. She's dressed in a long black trench coat, with some black dress pants and a white button-up shirt. Of course, the outfit is paired with black, heeled boots.
"Go and get inside darling, someone will take your bags into your room in the next ten minutes. You can live without them for that long, yes?" She tilts her head and cocks an eyebrow. A small grin plays on her lips.
"Yes. I can, I just felt bad - they shouldn't have to."
Harlow rolls her eyes and steps closer, placing a hand on my waist. I instantly start to melt at her touch. "Don't worry about it and go inside. Get some rest, hm? How are you feeling?"
Harlow caring about someone isn't something I'd ever imagined I'd experience. Especially when it's a personal experience. "I'm good, it hurts but not that much."
She nods, her grin slowly relaxing back into her natural expression. "Did you hear what I said?"
