Prince and the Pauper

Chapter Thirteen

To say the book was far from my cup of tea would be a major understatement, and yet I was hooked. The moment Harry had dropped me off at my apartment I had settled on the couch with a blanket draped over my legs. A cup of coffee  balanced precariously on the arm of the couch, long forgotten and turned cold. I had made a lot of progress, and by progress I meant I hadn't stopped from the moment I got home three hours ago, and I was nearly finished. I knew tomorrow I would have to turn up to work and swallow my words, but for now, I was determined to finish the last few chapters. I had mixed feelings upon the characters though. I couldn't decide weather Mary was a fool for sympathising with Slade, given he abducted her, or I admired her selflessness to help get his sister back. More frustratingly, I couldn't decide weather Slade was just as bad as Mr Hagen and his sex slave industry, or a devoted brother willing to do anything to protect those he loved. I was so wrapped up in the nearing climax to the book when my phone rang, I nearly let it go to voicemail.  I huffed as I picked up my phone and answered.
"Hello?" I snapped. A familiar and vvlaugh sounded down the line and I smiled as I recognized the sound instantly.
"Catch you at a bad time?" Bash joked.
"The worst." I grumbled picking at my nails. "However, since you've already so rudely  interrupted, " I spoke sarcastically, "you might as well get out with whatever you called to say."
"Oh Devonne, my dearest, sweetest, queen," Bash grovelled painfully well, almost like he truly did serve royalty. "I had called in hopes that my fellow mud-rud pal could join me in a smashing night at mine and drown out the misery of my life, that is opening doors for pencil-skirt snobs, and tie wearing pricks." His comment had me giggling and already kicking away the blanket wrapped around me.
"It would be my pleasure, my humble servant." I spoke sweetly.
"Of course it would. Since when does Devonne Abel miss the chance to get drunk?" He replied with an obvious tone.
"Since I work for a member of the Styles family, I guess."
"Well that night is not tonight." Bash ordered. "I'm already outside your door." My eyes widened just as three loud knocks sounded at the door.
"Seeya in a few then, peasant." I chirped.
"Counting down, slut." I laughed as I hung up and cautiously treaded to the door, not applying too much pressure to my foot, that was making a speedy recovery.
"My gracious queen." Bash curtsied, continuing our charade.
"My loyal commoner." I gave a short nod, only to ruin the act by laughing. Bash moved aside and flicked his wrist.
"Our carriage awaits. Oh, and by carriage I mean my mothers new husband thought a Tahoe SUV would be incentive to behave and not ruin his crisp reputation." My eyes widened and Bash rolled his eyes in agreement at the ridiculous lengths some would go to keep a perfect life façade.
"So he just bought you a car? Just like that? Your mother must really love  him now, huh?" I snickered, following him out and down the stairs after collecting my keys.
"Oh she loved him after I came home and heard just how hard she had fallen for him." I gagged and Bash groaned at the clearly still raw memory.
"Now I see the need to drink." I smirked, the two of us heading out into the chilly night air.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Oh maaan, you should have seen this chick." Bash slurred, beer spilling from his can as he gestured widly with his hands. "Legs up to her neck, blonde hair, blue eyes,  but then she opened her damn mouth." I blasted out a laugh, and Bash squeezed her eyes at the memory. "She was the snobbiest witch I have ever seen. Seriously, she was more offensive than my last report card I got back in school." Our giddy and drunken laughter resonated throughout Bash's house. We were sprawled on the floor in his bedroom, and a little past sober. Well, I was at least. Bash on the other hand had passed tipsy two beer cans ago.
"What were you expecting?" I hiccupped around the question. "You work in Adlington."
"Speak for yourself, doll." Bash not so lightly hit my shoulder. "Miss Harry-Styles'-personal-slave."
"At least I don't have to open doors for him." I teased, and Bash moaned at the remark. He really did hate his job.
"No, but I bet you open other things for him." He winked, and my mouth dropped open, and he threw his head back and barked out into hysterics.
"I do not! Take that back!"  I cried, shocked he even joked about it.
"Uh-ah!"  Bash sang cheekily. "I see the way he looks at you when you two arrive in the morning. More specif-spe-ah more importantly," Bash stammered, struggling to string a coherent sentence. "where he looks." My eyes widened at his suggestive tone. The thought of other people sensing the emotions I was skating around made me panic. This wasn't just my heart I was protecting, but Geordie's too, and I knew he would be destroyed and hurt if he found out I was anything beyond civil with the brother of his attacker. Dante. Just the thought of the icy-blue eyed monster made my stomach churn. He was ruthless, and straight up evil. I knew he was enjoying me working with Harry, simply because he had the opportunity to harass me, and intimidate me.
"There is nothing like that-" another hiccup, the damn alcohol warming my skin and slowing down my thinking process, "about Harry and I." I finished with a slight mumble.
"Oh, okay. So you won't be mad if I told you when you were in the bathroom, Harry called your mobile? By the way, you need an upgrade. Even for a mud-rud, Nokia is the worse than a telephone booth."
"Freeze." I coughed as I chocked on a mouthful of beer, the liquid spilling from my mouth. "Say that again?" I panicked, the thought of Harry calling me at night not only surprising me, but had my heart skipping.
"I said," Bash rolled his eyes at him having to repeat himself, "you need a new pho-
"No you moron! The call from Harry!"
"Oh!" Bash eventually clicked. "Yeah, the walking-bank called and when I answered, he wasn't too pleased."
"You answered?" Groaning, I snatched up my phone and checked my call log. Sure enough, there was a call from Harry about ten minutes ago. My breathing hitched in my throat as I saw the length of the call. Three minutes. What the hell had Bash said in his drunken stupor?
"Sebastian Conrad Daniels." I stretched out his full name, making him flash me a sloppy smirk. "What exactly did you say to my boss?"
"Eh," a careless shrug made my eyes narrow in anger,  "I said 'hello' he said 'who is this?'" Bash did a poor job of mimicking Harry's deep gravelly tone, "I said 'Devonne's groupie' then he was all like 'is that you Sebastian? The door man?'" my hands cupped my face in horror and Bash took his sweet time stretching out his story. "So naturally I replied 'the one and only!' because let's be honest. Have you ever seen a face as handsome as mine?" Bash gestured to himself and winked, and I threw collapsed backwards onto my back, groaning insanities.
"Then he was like 'Put Devonne on the phone, right fucking now.'" My eyes nearly bugged  out of my head at the thought of Harry cussing. I had seen him get angry once before with Tristan, but even then he had still remained relatively composed. The image of Harry so worked up to swear so bluntly was both shocking and yet fascinating. Especially given the fact that what  made him so irritable was me being around another male. My stomach flip-flopped at the realisation. Was he jealous? I knew Harry harbored feelings for me since he openly confessed it, plus the way he had touched me, but I had chalked it down to guilt over what Dante had done to Geordie. Part of my brain screamed at me how this was not guilt that thickened the air whenever we were together, but for the sake of my brother I allowed myself to indulge in the flimsy excuse.
"Mr Styles is not impressed with you, young lady." Bash tutted.
"Listen, Bash-" I was cut off by my phone ringing. The ID was unknown since he wasn't in my contacts, but the convulsions in my stomach told me exactly who it was. Bash made a childish noise and leaned back against his bed, wanting to listen to the verbal throw down that was about to happen.
"Harry." My voice embarrassingly shook. "Look, I-"
"Devonne." Harry's voice was gruff, harsh. He was fuming. "Where are you? Don't you dare lie to me." He warned. I swallowed nervously and pinched the bridge of my nose.
"I just got back home." I lied. I knew I should be honest, after all I had no reason to lie. Beyond work I had no obligation to Harry, but a small voice in the back of my mind whispered to do damage control.
"You don't seriously think me naive enough to buy that bullshit, do you, sweetheart?" I choked on my breath. The sweetheart was a dig that he indeed was holding me accountable for the feelings I was fighting, and we both knew it.
"What...what do you mean?" I deflected answering his question about my lie.
"Let me try this again then, since you're not quite up to speed. I heard alcohol has cognitive effects." I squeezed my eyes closed. As nervous as I was, hearing him so worked up sent sharp, hot thrills up my spine, and heat boiling just below my navel. "I'm at your apartment, Devonne."
"What?" I blurted. Bash howled at my flustered state, and I punched him in the shoulder to silence him.
"Tell.me.where.you.are." Harry drawled out each word slowly.
"Why does it matter?" I asked defensively, deciding to take a new approach  as my passive route was not working. A dark laugh filled my ears.
"You know why." Harry replied. "Last chance."
"Its none of your business." I snapped.
"Bull. Everything concerning you is my business. You are my business." Words froze in my throat, and I could practically hear his sexy smirk. "Oh, and Devonne?" Harry spoke deeply. "Next time you try to hide away with another man, make sure he doesn't work for the man you're running from. He has access to employee files, including their address."
"Holy sh-" Harry's smug voice cut me off.
"I'm on my way." The line went dead, and I had a shamelessly thrilling thought that soon I would be face to face with a hot and bothered, Harry.