mine • narry (going through editing)

0.4 (i added more..)

didn't notice I updated!! but, I just added more so skip to the last part if you've already read the chap and wanna continue

"Do you want to address him like that again?" Harry questioned after a moment of silence, smirking as he recognized the shocked look on Taylor's face. As if he would let treatment like that slide. "And when have I ever allowed you to address me as anything other than 'Mr. Styles'?" He was mocking her the closer and closer he stood, Niall was debating to just leave because in all honesty, what was he expecting out of this? A friendship with the CEO of a world wide cooperation? Ridiculous, he scoffed internally, he was fooling himself.

"That's alright, sir." Niall decided to speak up, already knowing the woman was too astonished to do so herself. "I was leaving anyways," and he tried to slip past the doors, didn't even want to look back because he was here for a second and had never felt so disrespected in his entire life.

It was hysterical too, the fact that here he stood in one of the most expensive buildings in the city, surrounded by only upper class men, and they treated him worse than back in the hood.

Or what their standards considered to be the 'hood' or the 'ghetto'. Niall just called it home.

"I swear to fucking god," the brunette swore he could hear Taylor gasp at the curse, "If you slip from my grasp again, I will lose my mind. Stay here until I dismiss you."

And Niall did just that as he bowed his head, afraid of the reprimanding he was a victim of. He hadn't ever been scolded, didn't like the feeling he got seeing as he was being degraded every day— he didn't need any extra. The feeling of the stern words ordering him around caused his brain to shut off, and he felt himself become robotic. "Sorry, sir." He mumbled underneath his breath, biting his lips harshly because fuck, this was a terrible feeling.

"Ms. Swift," Harry turned towards the woman who immediately straightened her posture and expression, once a scowl now a polite smile. The fear in her eyes was evident, and the wealthy authority figure took note of that. "May I ask you why you addressed Mr. Horan the way you did?"

And the secretary was thinking of a proper answer for a few moments before spitting out, "He's dressed like a churl."

[basically a peasant]

The blue eyed boy lifted his head at that, frowning softly as he attempted to make sense of what the term could mean. And he went to look at Harry for some help, knowing the educated man was most likely well aware of the used term, only to see the harsh glare being thrown at the guilty woman gazing at her Jimmy Choo heels.

He watched as the CEO gathered his composure, tattooed fists still clenched at his side as he asked her to repeat what she had spoken.

"I said he looks like a churl. Smells like one, acts like one, dresses like one. Looks like a fucking peasant and— and people like him, who shouldn't even be allowed on this part of town, need to know their place." She turned to look at Niall, "You're fucking worthless—"

"You're fired."

"—What?!" They both shouted at the same time, the Irish man immediately giving Harry an incredulous look because firing a worker because of him? That wasn't right, he didn't want to ruin her life like that. He knew what it felt like to be unemployed and it wasn't comfortable, it was constantly stressful and tiring.

Never would he wish that upon his worst enemy.

"Let me tell you something," Harry spoke, a smirk plastered on his face as he straightened the sleeves of his Gucci suit, "You work on the bottom floor, right ma'am?"

"Uh, yes-"

"And you are a receptionist, right?"

"Well I also handle the—"

"Great." He chuckled, "So you want to speak like a CEO without the paycheck of one? Better yet, without the power or respect of one? You've got to be kidding me."

"Sir," Niall cut him off, "To be fair she is completely correct. I do not belong here, and that's a known fact to everyone in this lobby." He could hear faint whispers, it made him ultimately the most insecure he'd ever felt. "There is no need for a scene, I'll handle our discussion as well as I possibly can and we'll go our separate ways. No need to fire her over something so small."

"Don't—Don't you ever talk about yourself that way. Do you think it's wise for you to bring yourself down? No, it's not because then that allows others to do so as well—"

"What is going on here? How are you two even on the same fucking planet? Harry, you shouldn't be associating yourself with people like—"

"It is not Harry to you! It's Mr.Styles and as the fucking owner of this company I think respect should be a given!"

The entire floor went quiet at the explosion, and Harry himself looked shocked at his loss of composure before he quickly chased it back. "Now, Taylor," he sneered, "We'll finish this in my office after business hours. Niall come with me."

-

"You're not going to fire her, right sir?"

"Do you know how much of a fool you made me look out there?" Harry spoke quietly, not caring to make eye contact as he gazed out the window, hands behind his back as to not punch anything. He knew it wasn't Niall's fault, the boy didn't know how things worked around cooperations like his, but it was still unacceptable and he needed to make sure that was understood on the occurrence that Niall arrived once more, which might not be ever after this.

"I'm sorry?"

"You defied me, argued with me, and defended a disrespectful action right in front of all my workers." The curly haired man sighed heavily before continuing, "I cannot have that be a normal occurrence at my offices."

"Well, sir,"

"It's Harry." And now Niall was confused because wasn't he asking for more professionalism in the work place just seconds prior? He didn't allow his own workers to call him that, why would he allow a stranger?

"Okay, Harry." He gulped, "I do not think this will happen again."

"How can you be so sure, Niall?"

"Because I don't plan on coming back."

And Harry whipped around.

"What do you mean?"

Niall sighed at the question, a part of his heart had already expected it but it still felt so abrupt. He hated confrontation, and it sucked that he had to open up to a complete stranger.

"Well, my father is getting worse." He mumbled, "Its only been couple of months after his diagnosis—about three— and the doctors are worried for him because we lack the funding for proper medication, meaning his body is bound to fail."

"Are you in need of financial stability?"

"Well, no—actually yes, we are but that's not what I'm saying. I'm just stating the fact that more hands on work needs to be supplied towards my household."

"Do you want me—"

"Harry." Niall spoke calmly, cutting him off as a grateful smile graced his lips. "You don't need to do anything. All I'm here to do is return this," he gathered the envelope in his pocket, "and say my 'thank you's' because you've been a wonderful to meet."

"No, you're not just walking out." Harry grumbled, looking up at the boy who was just smiling curiously, smiling his brilliant smile that just made the man want to cry out in joy. "You and I need to discuss our deal."

"What—Oh, Harry, no that's not necessary I'm not keeping the money any—"

"I'll take the money," he smiles cheekily as he watched the boy nod in agreement, "But you and I have to have lunch together every day until the bills add up to five grand."