Prince and the Pauper

Chapter Twelve

I remained motionless for a while after Harry departed from the library. The way he had touched me, and spoken to me left me feeling like I had been winded, all air forced out of my lungs. A slightly trembling hand raised to my mouth, and I bit down on my fist to fight what I was convincing myself wasn't a smile from breaking through. Unsure whether I  should sit and wait for his return, or try and climb the ladder myself with my still slightly sore ankle, I decided for assessing the books which we had labelled with the new dewy system. That way when Harry returned it would look like I was busy, rather than stewing over the intense moment he had just shared. My fingers trailed over the cover of the book nearest me, only for the gentle skimming over the book to remind me of the way his long, lean fingers had delicately trailed over my skin. I sighed at my fickle mind, so easily distracted by a mere light touch. What was happening to me? I was Devonne Abel, number one enemy to the Styles family, and nothing if not stubborn, and here I was getting flustered over the man whom I should hate. If not for my sake, for Geordie's. Shaking my head I leaned back on the table, and glared ahead, trying to remind myself why I had to fight the feelings I was frustratingly starting to harbour towards the beautiful green-eyed man. The image of my brother laying in his pool of blood, unconscious on the dairy floor was enough to make my eyes squeeze closed, trying to block out the image that haunted me day in and out. When my eyes eventually flickered open, I noticed a book hidden under the red couches centred in the middle of the room. I groaned at the thought of us missing a book, and hoping it wasn't a fiction book that would belong in the two-hundreds section, meaning I'd have to re-label the entire section. I slowly walked over, surprised to find my ankle didn't protest too much, and propped an arm on the arm of the couch, carefully lowering myself to lying on the ground. My arm reached under the couch, and my fingers hooked around the edges of the book, and slid it out. I sat up and hoisted myself onto the couch, assessing the book in my hands. It was a reasonably thick book, at least four hundred pages guessing from my vast experience in reading, but it wasn't the book itself that caught my attention, but rather what it reminded me of. The bet Harry and I had made. I had been given three days to guess his favourite book, or he'd dress me up in his fancy trust-fund clothing and make me swallow my words. A satisfied grin spread to my lips. We hadn't missed this book, Harry had hidden it. This must be his favourite, and he had practically cheated in trying to win. I read the cover, the title peeking an immediate curiosity. Captive to the dark. My eyes then dropped to the picture on the front, and I bit my cheek to reign in the smirk itching through  my cheeks. Of course Harry would like a book like this. I hadn't even read the blurb and I knew where this book was headed. The picture was of a man and woman. The woman was held in the mans arms, her wrists bound behind her back, and the man was gripping her jaw in his hand.
"Well, damn." I muttered to myself, eyes widened in shock at Harry's very well hidden interests.
"Glad to see my appearance pleases you." I shrieked at the sound of the voice coming from the door which  I hadn't even heard open. Harry stood, leaning against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest, smirking at me. The book tumbled from my hands and onto the ground, making Harry laugh. I cleared my throat and bent to retrieve the book in my hand, and I waved it in the air with a victorious smile.
"Congratulations, you can read." Harry stalked towards me, his joke stealing my smirk. I leaned back into the cushions of the couch, and crossed one  leg over the other.
"Funny." I said dryly. "But I win."
"Oh?" Harry mused, sitting himself down next to me, our thighs brushing. "What did you win?"
"The bet." Harry laughed lightly, and took the book from my hands.
"Firstly," Harry began, his hand stroked against his sharp jawline, "I gave you three days to guess. This is day three."
"It's day two." I argued.
"Three." Harry reaffirmed. "When I gave you three days, I meant the work hours. Not twenty-four hours. So since work has finished now that it's five, that concludes the end of the third day."  My mouth dropped open and I shook my head.
"N-"
"Secondly," Harry halted my denial with pressing a finger to my lips, his smirk promising trouble, "I never admitted this was my favourite book."
"Firstly," I mimicked, "your rules are corrupt and you set me up for a loss instantly." Harry carelessly shrugged, clearly contempt to have won unjustly. "Secondly, the book was hidden under the couch. Which, one might think accidentally landed there. But not if you hadn't told me you like to sit on this very sofa, in the sun, and read. Also, as a big reader myself I know first-hand you keep your personal favourites close by. Hence this being hidden under your favourite couch."
"Touché." Harry nodded his head curtly. "But," He drawled out the word making me groan.
"But?"
"You still lost. You missed the deadline, sweetheart."  My eyes turned to slits and I frowned, taking the book back in my hands and scoffing at the cover.
"Who would have thought your taste was so..." I hummed in a scandalous tone.
"Erotic? Particular? Alluring?" His voice sounder lower.
"I was going to say terrifying." I laughed, shaking my head at the book. "I would ask what it's about and why you favour it, but the cover sums it up." I  scorned. Harry tutted me, his mischievous smile appearing.
"It's not the sex scenes that interest me." I blasted a laugh at his remark, and in retaliation he lightly hit me on the arm. "It's true." Harry defended, his smile ruining his determined tone.
"Yeah, and Hitler was only genocidal after he'd been drinking."
"Devonne." Harry closed his eyes and shook his head, his chest rumbling  as he tried to reign in his laughter.  "The thing about the book that captivates me is how the two main characters fall in love even though they're supposed to be enemies." That comment sobered me up, and slowly I turned my head to look him in the eyes.
"So it's the love-conquers-all theory you like?" I asked, my voice showing how cynical I was.
"Yes." Harry smiled. Genuinely. No smirk or lop-sided grin. It was a simple and pure smile, and it was dazzlingly beautiful.
"So why not like Romeo and Juliet? It's a classic." I angled my body towards him, suddenly wanting to know why this book was his favourite. Harry scoffed and shook his head.
"Shakespeare was remarkable, but Romeo and Juliet is the runt of his collection in my opinion." I quirked a brow to signal I was listening, and he continued. "It's not realistic is it? I mean, for a kick of neither of them know how to check a damn pulse." I giggled at that, and he smiled at the sound.
"So how is this," I  waved the book in the air, "any better? Or more realistic?"
"Well the plot is this woman is part of this wealthy family, and yet she doesn't feel like she's part of it at all. She was hurt as a kid and has....kinky desires which her high public profile family doesn't approve of."
"Naturally." I nodded and Harry laughed lightly.
"Anyway, because Mary doesn't get along too well with her family she has no idea that her family is involved in drug, and sex slave trafficking."
"That's disgusting." I flinched, Harry nodding in agreement.
"That's what Slade thought. Especially when his younger sister Lily was kidnapped and forced into sex slavery. Determined to get his sister back he kidnaps Mary, as she is the daughter of the man that leads the business that took Lily."
"So this...Slade guy is a hypocrite?" I summarised in a way Harry clearly didn't approve of. His thinning lips was all I needed to tell me so.
"What makes you say that?" He sounded defensive.
"Oh come on." I scoffed. "The cover makes it clear what he has in mind. He kidnaps Lil-
"Mary." Harry corrected instantly, making me roll my eyes.
"Mary ," I repeated, "is  kidnapped by Slade, because Slade wants revenge for somebody taking his sister." I spoke slowly, like I was stating the obvious.
"He doesn't do anything to her without her consent." Harry clarified, his voice deep and smooth.
"Traditionally the words kidnapped and willing aren't exactly compatible." I gestured with two fingers. Harry angled his body towards mine, our knees brushing as we both faced one another, and his long, lean arm was spread out over the back of the couch, his fingers inches from my right shoulder. The thought of those warm hands touching my skin again had my fingers twitching in my lap, and I hoped and prayed it wasn't obvious to Harry.
"I think you should read it." He suggested coolly, handing his beloved book over to me again.
"I'm not a cuffs or whips kinda gal." I pushed the book back, as if the book itself was a whip, and the thought made me shiver.
"Nor am I, but I still love the book." Harry reasoned, stubbornly putting it back into my hands and forcing my fingers to curl around it. "However, I think that the characters are somewhat relatable to you. Minus the mega wealth of course."
"What?" I gasped in horror. "I am nothing like either!" I protested, eyes widened.
"You've never read it." Harry said calmly, his smile was all fox.
"Damn right I haven't, and I plan on keeping it that way."
"Slade it also used to getting his own way." Harry teased, his tongue swiping over his pink lips as he observed my flustered state.
"Whoa, whoa hold up." I raised my hands to try and grasp the current situation. "You think I am like Slade?" 
"He goes through great extremes to get his sister back. To protect her. Who else do I know who is fiercely protective and loyal towards  their sibling?" He faked being in deep contemplation as he rubbed his hand over his chin, a hint of a stubble poking through.
"Yeah, but I haven't kidnapped anyone!" I cried, slapping his arm harshly. Harry playfully winced and rubbed where I had smacked him.
"Easy tiger." Harry wound me up further. "Look at you, already spanking me." I groaned and buried my face into my hands, a laugh slipping passed my lips.
"I hate you." I grumbled through a defeated laugh, peaking up at him through my fingers.
"Seriously, give it a shot Devonne." Harry replied. "If you don't like it, or find you can't finish it after the first, say...ten chapters, then I'll go easy on you when I dress you up in the outfit of my choice for losing the challenge." He sweetened the deal, and I begrudgingly opened the cover, skimming through the pages, certain words capturing my attention, and I felt my skin warming as Harry observed my reaction.
"Fine." I sighed in exasperation. "But if I need counselling afterwards from trauma, you're paying, Styles."