Eighteen ➵ z.m. [Camp NaNoWriMo November 2015]

<3> Growing attached to me already, Wilde?

"There's the woman of the hour," Mr. Malik annouces as Harry escourts me over to their private VIP table. I smile sleepishly, and tuck a loose strand of my hair behind my ear.

Being late to every single outing that the Maliks' invited me to was not a good luck for business, and was a poor reflection of my father and his company Wilde Industries.

"Nice to see you again," I say in greeting, shaking Mr. Malik's out-streched hand. His hand was rather cold, a sign of having too many cold beers or whatever was his drink of choice.

"I was starting to think the exact opposite," my father says butting into my conversation.

When my father was concerned it was better to bite my tongue rather than, let my motor mouth get the best of me. Most of the time I couldn't control my words, it was like vomit, but if I wanted the rest of tonight to go as smoothly as possible then I had to be overly cautious.

"What's that suppose to mean?" I ask turning around to face my father. He was adorned in a name brand suit, that was specifically tailored to his body.

"You skipped out on dinner," my father recalls.

I didn't think now was the best time to bring up my abduction, so I make the hard choice of biting my tongue before taking a seat next to my father in the booth. My mother was here also, but I didn't feel like speaking to her at the moment.

As a matter of fact I would rather be at home blaring throwback music until my eardrums couldn't handle the wailing vocals of Mariah Carey any longer, but here I am.

You would think that the music the DJ was playing could be heard from here, but the VIP section had special noise cancelation walls, much to my dismay.

My father was visibly upset, but I didn't want to call any attention to it knowing that he would just explode later on tonight, whenever we were in the comfort of his private estate.

"I'm so terribly sorry about that Mr. Malik," I apologize. "It was inavoidable, but I'm glad you invited my parents and I out tonight. Thank you for being so gracious."

Normally I didn't kiss ass like this, but I had no choice.

My father would go completely balistic if I didn't at least try to mend fences with the Malik's for standing them up last night.

My father's fury on a good day would make all of the United States army studder in fear. So I definately couldn't handle his wrath on my own when he was having a bad day.

"That's such a nice thing for you to say Everly, but this was actually all of my son's doing," Mr. Malik corrects me. It was only then when I noticed the fifth and final member of our meeting tonight.

Although I'm not sure how I didn't see him in the first place: he was absolutuely gorgeous.

"Zayn," he introduces himself to me offering his hand to me, just as his father had done. But unlike his father, Zayn had intricate patterns dubbed in black ink covering his olive toned skin.

"Everly," I say accepting his hand. Just like Harry, Zayn's most notiable feature was his eyes. They were a hazal color that seemed to sparkle every time he cracked a smile. Another thing that I noticed was that Harry and Zayn shared a British accent, although it was in a various. Their accents must have originated from two different places, rather than the same region.

"Nice to finally meet you," Zayn says.

"Likewise," I agree, studying him carefully.

Other than the fact that Zayn was drop dead gorgeous, he appeared to be a normal 21 year old male. He was wearing a black button-up with the sleeves rolled up which showcased more tattoo covered skin and his facial hair was neatly groomed. Under normal circumstances I wasn't a fan of facial hair, but Zayn managed to pull it off.