Playing With The Boss

Chapter Nine

Marlene's P.O.V

Today is Wednesday and I am nervous as fuck. But no one can notice it though and I want to leave it that way.

I was quite surprised when my uncle told me to come in leisure wear and not formal wear, but we are going on a business trip, right?

Anyway, I put on a classic red and black plaid shirt knotted at the bottom paired with black ripped skinny jeans and classic ankle low-heeled boots.

And apparently I was the last person to arrive at the airport.

"Oh shit, I'm gonna get fired for this," I mumbled as I was led towards the group waiting beside a private jet. I nervously chewed on my bottom lip and tucked stray strands of my shoulder-length, bone straight hair behind my ear. Rayleigh persuaded me to get an edgy but classy haircut and here I am.

My uncle was the first to approach me.

"I only told you about the dress code so that you don't feel out of place. Knowing you, you already were in a suit," he chuckles with an arm around my shoulder.

"Am I going to get fired?," I nervously ask.

"Nope. You weren't late at all sweetie. You got here five minutes after us and you look great. I like what you did with the hair," he says and runs his hand through my hair.

"Thanks. Last minute changes," I smile and look at our company as soon as we are in hearing range.

"Glad you could make it early, Ms. Walters," Mr. Styles says and the hair on the nape of my neck come to a stand still.

"I'm sorry I'm late sir," I said immediately, disregarding what my uncle said.

"It's nothing. We just got here ourselves. The captains are just checking that we are good and ready to go," he shrugs. I exhale a breath of relief.

I take a look at everyone present. Harry is not here.

"I'm sorry I'm late," the distinct British accent says lowly.

I turn to look at him and- hot damn....

He is very casual (and hot) in a beach inspired shirt and black jeans with black chelsea boots. He holds a small and posh carrier bag as he walks effortlessly towards us with a pair of sunglasses on top of his wild mane of curls.

I turn away quickly once he catches me looking at him and I blush. Holy f*ck!

"Okay gang, we are ready to board. There are no planned seating arrangements so feel free to sit wherever," Mr. Styles announces and we all move toward and into the vessel.

I walk to the rear of the plane, away from the important executives. I am surprised when Harry takes a seat beside me on the other wing. I place my hand luggage in the luggage compartment and sit back down.

After all the pre-flight shenanigans, we were ready to take off. I was informed of the location of the meeting in uncle Dave's text. Apparently we were going to Paris. It's not that I don't like Paris but this will be a long flight and I absolutely hate long flights.

I was mostly idle in the first hour of our flight. I looked out at the clouds, looked at the posh interior decorations, read a book that I brought along, went to the bathroom and napped a little. Anything to pass the time.

"You sure are a very busy one. The most busiest person I have seen on this aircraft," Harry suddenly spoke from beside me and I turned to look at him.

"I don't like long flights," I deadpanned.

"Seems like it," he says lowly as he types very quickly but exquisitely on his Macbook.

"So you don't mind long flights then?," I asked.