Book 3 || Taming Prince Charming || Harry Styles

Chapter 5

Her view.

The gold trimming covering the bathtub shouldn't surprised me, but of course it did. I've never been around such opulence before. I take a deep breath and sit back on the toilet seat. I'm actually going to the bathroom, but I had to escape from Harry, and this is the only room I know he won't follow me into. Meeting his parents have overwhelmed me. Especially seeing the look in his mother's eyes. It unnerved me. I feel really bad for deceiving them, especially as I don't even know why Harry had set up this elaborate story. I don't know why he didn't just sued the tabloids for defamation or libel or whatever it is that celebrities sue tabloids for.
His mother looks the way I expected. Beautiful and cold. She looks aristocratic with her perfectly thin nose and high cheekbones. Her green eyes have pierced through to my soul, and she doesn't have one hair out of place. I know she wasn't impressed when she surveyed my appearance. I reach up and touch the top of my head. My hair feels dry and I'm sure it looks messy as well. I stand up and walk to the mirror. My face looks pale and washed out. I certainly don't look like the sort of girl who has the ability to trap a prince. No matter what Tarquin and Harry say, I am definitely not a Hollywood beauty, though I suppose there is a certain innocent, natural beauty to my looks.

"You alive?" Harry knocks on the door and I freeze.
"I'm fine." I call back, praying that Harry isn't going to overstep another boundary and walk into the room.
"Do you need anything?"
"I'm fine."
"No Pepto Bismol?"
"No." I shout out embarrassed. "I'm fine."
"Well, you've been in there a while. I wanted to make sure you didn't have a scarred stomach."
"A scarred stomach?" I call out in surprise.
"Okay, maybe not scarred, scared."
"A scared stomach?" I start giggling.
"I mean an upset stomach."
"Don't worry, my stomach's not scarred, scared, or upset." I call out and walk to the toilet and flush it, even though there is nothing in the bowl.
"I'm glad to hear that."
"I'm just going to wash my hands if that's okay with you." I call out and turn on the gold-plated faucets. Do they really need this much gold in a bathroom?

It seems ostentatious, but then what do I know? My family barely has enough money to pay the bills and get groceries every month.
"I'm waiting." His voice is soft through the door and I shiver. Oh shit, here we go.
"You didn't have to wait for me outside the door you know. It's unnerving." I snap as I walk back into Harry's bedroom. It looks like a display bedroom from a museum exhibit. "Your bedroom is crazy." I walk over to the four-poster bed and touch the thick wood.
"This bed belonged to my great-grandfather. It's hand carved in India. It was a gift to him from the English."
"The English?" I frown. "I thought you said it was hand carved in India?"
"The English colonized India. Did you not know that?" He pauses. "Oh yes, I forgot, you're an American."
"Excuse me?" I take a deep breath and am about to tell him where to get off.
"I'm not saying that to be rude." He shrugs. "I only said that to mean that English children would grow up with that knowledge because it was their country that tried to take over the world. The Americans haven't colonized anyone, have they?" He cocks his head and smiles. "Unless you want to talk about my heart. You've colonized my heart."
"Aren't you confusing your heart with your dick?" I say bluntly and he laughs loudly.
"Perhaps I am." He reaches down and grabs himself. "I'm still quite hard."
"That's nice."

I walk to the window and pull the curtain to the side. "That's some backyard." I stare out at the vast expanse of green lawns and flowerbeds. "It's beautiful."
"Thank you. We have ten gardeners. We have the Versailles Gardens of Romeria."
"I've never been to Versailles."
"I'll have to take you one day."
"That's okay. I don't need two fake engagements in my life."
"You can go as part of your first one."
"I think that's an awful lot to fit into one week."
"Well, it might be longer than one week." He shrugs.
"No." I bite my lower lip. "I have to get back to London. Harry, why are you doing this?"
"I told you. I don't want you to be painted as a scarlet woman by the press."
"The press don't know or care about me." I roll my eyes. "Date someone else and they'll focus on her."
"I don't want to date anyone." He walks towards me purposefully. "I'm not in this to date anyone. I'm in it to—"
"I know what you're going to say." I cut him off and gasp as he picks me up. "What are you doing?"
"Carrying you to my bed."
"Put me down." I struggle against him, my hands beating against his muscular chest.
"Will do."

He drops me on the bed and looks down at me for a second before lying down next to me. "Are you ready for me?" His fingers run up to my heaving breasts and squeeze my nipple.
"Stop." I push his hand away from me. "This is so not appropriate."
"What's not appropriate?" He sits up and pulls his shirt off.

I stare at his naked chest. He reaches over to me and I feel his fingers pulling up my shirt. I lay there without stopping him. I know that I should say no, but I want him to touch me. My body craves his touch as my parched throat craves water.
"We should go shopping." He says as he stares down at me. "Sit up, so I can take your bra off," he commands me and I frown.
"What are you talking about?" I frown at him. "Why should we go shopping?"
"It looks like you don't have many clothes? I think you've been wearing the same bra every time I've seen you. And frankly, it's not the sexiest bra I've ever seen."
"Excuse me?" My jaw drops as his fingers slip inside of my bra and play with my nipples. I squirm on the bed as he teases my hardening nipples.
"I'm happy to buy you nice things. It will work out for both of us. I'd like to see you in a bra that —"
"I don't care what you want to see." I push his arm away from me and sit up and jump off of the bed.

"Every time, I say to myself, just give him a chance, he's not such a jerk, you say something that reminds me that you're a bigger jerk than I even gave you credit for."
"I'm a jerk because I want to buy you pretty things?"
"You're a jerk because that comment implies that my things aren't pretty."
"I'm not implying anything." He jumps up and runs his hands through his hair. "I'm telling you that your bra is ugly and your clothes aren't doing much to accentuate the beauty of your body. Your clothes should hug your body like a second skin, right now they cling onto you like a tick clings onto a dog whose blood it's sucking."
"What?" I shake my head and pause. "What are you talking about. You're calling my clothes a tick?"
"Whatever you took from that is your issue." He grabs my waist and pulls me towards him. "Now, be quiet." His fingers deftly unclasp my bra and he yanks it off of my body. His lips fall to my breast and he takes my nipple into his mouth and sucks on it gently before nipping at it with his teeth.
"Ow!" I cry out as his teeth bite down harder. "What are you doing?"
"I'm showing you that I can give you pleasure and pain." He looks up at me with teasing eyes. "Ultimately, I want to give you pleasure, but I will go through whatever modes of transport that I need to, to get you there."
"I think not— I don't want— Oh!" I cry out as his hand grab my other breast and his fingers squeeze my other nipple gently as he nibbles on the other one. It feels like the sweetest sort of pleasure and I can feel my panties growing wet.
"You don't want what?" He grins as he pulls away from me and then looks at his watch. "We should shower now. Dinner will be served soon."

"Is that shower as in, we both shower or by ourselves?" I bend down and grab my bra as I speak. I don't know what to expect. I don't know what to think either. I figured there is no point in lying to myself. I like Harry, I am attracted to him, and I do want to be with him. However, I don't really know what that means in the scheme of things. What does he really want from me? Who does he see me as? I'm stupid enough to believe that he likes me as a fiancé. I know that he isn't secretly pining over wanting to be with me. But what happens after a week? What happens when we have a week of fun and everyone realizes that I'm really his fiancé? How will I feel if he discards me like a piece of trash? I can lie to myself and tell myself I'll be fine, but I'm not so sure. I've come into all of this with an idea and a plan, and now I'm not so sure if I really know what I've gotten myself into.