Heir [Harry Styles]

Chapter 2: Wake Up Call

-Chapter 3-

Iris

I wake up to a loud rapping at my door, I must have fallen asleep last night on the floor. My feet are cold and my face is probably imprinted with the pattern on my shirt. I sit up and stretch my arms above my head, trying to rid my back of the building aches and knots. Rubbing my eyes, I slowly stand up, continuously yawning as I approach the door. Halfway across the room, the person begins to bang on the door again, this time faster and with more force, as if they are trying to break down the door.

“I’m coming! Please stop banging on the door! People are trying to sleep!” I half yell, half whisper. “Including me.” I utter. And then I smell it. Its an indescribable scent and it makes my eyes water. Covering my nose with my hand, I extend my arm to the knob of the door, unlocking the bolts and slowly opening it.

“What the hell?” and then I see them, 3 men dressed in all black who seem to be just a few years older than I. They rush into the apartment, uninvited and in a hurry.

“What are you doing? Why are you here?” I question, speaking fast as I try to keep up with their fast movements as the speed though the apartment.

“We’re here to help, remember calling us last night?” one of them says. He wears a black leather jacket and black jeans, his brown hair is long and is swept up in a messy quiff.

“Um yeah..?”

“She’s in shock, is she in shock? Shit, guys is she in shock?” he asks, turning around to talk to his other company. They don’t reply but instead continue to rummage around the apartment. His worried blue eyes turn back to my confused ones.

“What no, I’m fine. I remember. I just- it’s early and you’re all really attractive and I’m just tired and my face is numb. I just need a cup of coffee.” I walk over to the kitchen but they all stop their searching and turn to look at me, all with the same smug expression and their eyebrows raised.

“What?” I can already feel the redness creeping up my neck, I tried to cover up my embarrassing comment on their attractiveness, but I can see on their faces that they don't care. They shrug their shoulders and go back to their work while I plug in the coffee maker.

“Where’s your father?” one of them asks. I lift my eyes to meet his and my breathe is taken away. They are the most beautiful shade of green I have ever laid eyes on. They are intense and brilliant and even to seem to shimmer in the early morning sunlight. His tongue darts out and wets his parted lips. Like all of the other men, he is dressed in all black, but with the exception of a white headband pushing his soft curly hair off of his forehead. I tear my eyes from his, looking back down at my slowly dripping coffee.

“He’s, uh, he’s in the study.” The scent has finally subsided as I have started to become accustomed to it. The brewing coffee also masks the horrific scent.

I feel my eyes water as I remember the loud bang of the gun ringing off the walls, taking the life out of my dad. But instead of breaking down, only a single tear falls. I must be strong for my father, he told me to be in his last words.

I watch as the stunning man nods and he signals the men to the study, but before he enters, his dark eyes turn back to me and I look away, not wanting him to know I was staring.

“Go pack a bag. After we take care of this, we are going back.” he sternly says before following after the other men.

“Going where?” but there is no reply, only the quiet bantering of the three men. Instead of question any further, I go to my room and grab a bag and begin to stuff all sorts of things into it. The people on the other side of that emergency line must have sent these men for me. I don’t know why but I trust them, because if the people who sent them here knowing I was who I was, trusted them, then I guess I do too.