Summary:
“I’m sure they were all pathetic old men with failing marriages, am I wrong? So, I did you a favor, really,” Harry says, giving him a shit eating grin. Louis can’t argue with that, but would never admit that to Harry. He scans over him and sees the gold band on his left ring finger.
“Married, huh? Maybe you aren’t much better than my other clients,” Louis sneers.
“Well, I’ve got to at least be better looking then them, with a bigger dick, I’m sure. Now, you’re pretty when you don’t talk, so let’s get those clothes off of you and put you to work, hmm?”
or
Harry Styles is a millionaire in the 50's who owns hotels in Europe. Louis is a prostitute and they accidentally fall in love.
***
26-year-old Harry Styles is the son of Robert Styles, the man who owns 5-star hotels all over Europe. The Styles’ were one of the richest families of the 1950’s, and once Robert passed away, Harry had to take over. He was probably the youngest millionaire in the world, but he was ready for that challenge. He’s intelligent and strategic about his business and it’s been doing even better than it was when his father was around.
Even with all of his money and fortune, he’s not exactly happy. He’s been married to his wife, Emily, for four years and already it feels like they’ve hit rock bottom. There’s always an uncomfortable amount of tension between the two and they barely make eye contact anymore, but Harry shrugs it off. He’s got his business to worry about and can’t be bothered with dealing with that can of worms just yet.
He’s heard through the grape vine that the staff at his hotel in London hasn’t been very friendly, so he decided to go check for himself. He knew Emily wouldn’t mind him leaving for a weekend because she would have the house all to herself and he wouldn’t be there to make it awkward. Hell, Harry couldn’t wait for the train to drop him off in London to get away from that house.
He walks into the hotel with his bag in his hand, smiling at everyone. He grabs the room key from the front desk and puts his bags away in the hotel room he always stays in whenever he needs to come for business. He goes back downstairs to the lobby and observes his staff, making sure everything is running smoothly.
He looks over at the bar and sees a man, maybe a few years younger than him, sitting next to some older bloke. His small, dainty hand is on the man’s forearm, his head thrown back in an obvious fake laugh. He’s wearing a dangerously low cut white t-shirt, his collarbones jutting out and his trousers skin tight, slightly rolled up at the ankles. He shifts in his seat slightly, liking what he’s seeing.
Harry gets up, walking over to the front desk to go talk to the manager to distract himself. The man sitting at the bar watches him get up and looks at his tall, lean frame. He knows that’s Harry Styles, and he knows this is his hotel, but he’s even more gorgeous in person than he is in the newspapers. He tries not to stare too much and focuses on his client in front of him. God, he’s got to be at least 45 years old. And those teeth, gross. Fuck, it’s going to be a long night, Louis thinks.
Harry walks over to the manager, Rick, and puts his hand on his shoulder. “Hey, everything going all right?” he asks.
“Oh, Mr. Styles, you’re here already,” Rick says, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants before shaking Harry’s hand. “Y-yeah, everything is just fine, sir. Anything I can get you?”
“No, I’m fine. Just watching for now,” Harry smiles a little, leaning over the counter and looks at the boy at the bar again. He looks at Harry for a second, but turns away quickly. Harry bites his lip and shakes his head.
