Empire of Deception (Harry Styles AU)

Chapter 38

I feel her eyes on me as soon as I step inside the Swann conference room. I feel her studying my every move and watching the way my chest rises and falls as I struggle to breathe. My bloodshot eyes burn under the bright fluorescent lighting that reflects off every white surface.

I find my usual seat and take it, immediately reaching for the class of water set in front of it. My mouth is bone dry and my head is throbbing. Tears, no sleep, and liquor do not mix well together. I can't bring myself to look at her, but I know that Victoria is still watching me. I wonder if she knows how much that second vase wrecked me. I wonder if she knows that I cried myself to sleep. I wonder if she knows that that was the nicest thing she could have ever done for me. I wonder if she knows what her acknowledgement of Niall meant to me.

Christopher Jarwin glides into the room, moving so effortlessly it almost appeared as if his feet weren't even moving. I am envious of his light-footedness. He pauses before the table, dark eyes analyzing all of the major Project members mingling around the room or sitting at the white conference table. After digesting everything, he starts to move towards my direction. He barely makes it past my father before Des has grabbed him by the sleeve, pulling young Mr. Jarwin back. This bold move shocks me—even if it was made by my father. I watch Des' lips move as he whispers something into Christopher's ear. More than anything I wish to be able to decipher the conversation but I am too far away. Des finishes talking, barely earning a nod of acknowledgement from Jarwin. Des lets go and a pissed off Christopher Jarwin makes his way towards the table, and much to my surprise, he takes a seat beside me. Usually he stands in the corner like a creepy bat.

"If your father wasn't Des Styles, I would have slapped him for grabbing my Givenchy suit," he hisses, staring straight ahead. I follow his gaze to his sister who turns her head slightly, I can see her eyes telling him no. Christopher's eyes narrow considerably with his increasing level of anger, his lips pursing slightly with the lower one twitching like he has more shit to say to me.

I look back towards my dad who is currently in conversation with Collings—fucking Collings—and my blood burns at the thought of how much Collings desires to be seated at the head of the table. Over my dead body.

The seats around the table quickly fill up, including the one by Victoria who is now occupied by Vaugns. Victoria doesn't even look at him, her eyes still locked on her brother, and the two of them seem to be in some sort of wordless communication that I can never figure out. It's difficult to read the ridiculously subtle changes of their facial expressions; they're almost nonexistent. It annoys me that I don't even have a clue as to what they are "arguing" about, mainly because I know they know way more than I do.

"Listen, Styles. What are you doing later?" I hear Christopher sigh. I look at him like he is crazy, only to have him roll his eyes. "Just fucking say something." I still don't say anything. "Fine, be a prat. There's a function tonight at the Spicy Italian, and you're invited. 10:00."

"The nightclub?" I ask, genuinely confused.

"Yes, the fucking nightclub. Do you think I would be seen at a sandwich shop function?!" He's hissing again. Is a he a bat or a is he a snake, the world will never know. "It's just me and Alexander, we're meeting a potential partner who wants in on the Project."

"Why do you need me?"

"We don't."

"Then why are you invited me?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Styles. I thought it might be nice to maybe go out and have some fun," he practically barks. "Plus," his voice is suddenly quieter, softer, nicer. "I thought you might want to get your mind off of Tomlinson for a little while." He pauses. "And Horan."