Mafia Flower // Harry Styles

4

As we were about to board the private plane, my father made sure to intimidate Mr. Styles with his stern voice and cold expression. "You better protect her with your life, Styles. If anything happens to her, remember I can make several things instantly happen with the snap of my fingers."

Both men sported black suits and sunglasses. Mr. Styles stared him down with a cold expression as well and breathed in to keep his calm. "She will be well protected, Sir." He adjusted his black suit.

I waved at my father from the steps of the airplane. Mr. Styles guided me up the steps with his hand on my back. I looked back at my father whose head was held high as he shortly waved.

• • •

During the plane ride I mostly rested and studied. I was exhausted from the events of the previous days. After the plane landed we were being transported in a dark vehicle to Mr. Styles's condo. I was glad I was taught English at a young age so I could read the plenty signs in New York. During the car ride Mr. Styles informed me that I would be meeting his mother and sister again. The sleek car pulled into the underground garage and parked. I pulled my luggage out of the back and we were escorted by whom I assume was Mr. Styles's assistant. We entered the tall luxurious building and  an elevator. The assistant pushed a button which took us to the top floor. Mr. Styles adjusted his suit before we exited the elevator. We finally entered his condo. I was amazed as it was furnished with luxurious furniture and modern appliances which was in contrast to my father's vintage taste.

Two women jumped from the grey couch in the center of the grand living room. Mr. Styles hugged them tightly as they greeted.

A woman in her mid-forties greeted me, "Hi, dear. Come in, please. You must be exhausted." I smiled and set down my luggage. Mr. Styles snapped and the assistant quickly picked up my heavy bags and lugged them down a hallway.

"I'm June and this is my daughter, Emma. Of course, you've already met us and my son, Harry," the woman spoke with a smile and bright blue eyes. Her short brown hair shaped her friendly face. Her daughter, Emma, smiled with her green eyes which were very similar to  Mr. Styles's eyes. Emma appeared to be in her twenties and long blonde hair flowed down her back. I returned a smile and shook their hands. They seemed eager to welcome me as they guided me to the sofa. A plate of cookies sat on the glass coffee table with a vase full of flowers. Already, June seemed more warm and motherly than my own mother.

June, who sat across from me, said, "We know you must be exhausted from everything. Harry, do you mind showing her to the guest bedroom?"

Harry nodded and I followed him down a white hallway that was immaculant it seemed to lead to heaven. He showed me into a room that was minimalistic and nicely furnished with simple decorations. I plopped down on the white bed and I said politely, "This is really nice, Mr. Styles. Thank you."

Mr. Styles leaned against the doorway. He informed me, "You can join us for dinner after you've settled in." I noticed how his white button-up was unbuttoned only at the collar to reveal some dark tattoos.

"I will," I promised and with that he left me in privacy. My fingers tugged on the zipper of my pink suitcase and I began unpacking. Before I left Spain my father ordered me to pack the clothes that were in the closet of my bedroom. Fortuneately, I had a few clothing items in the Spanish mansion. 

After, I unpacked my clothing I joined the Styles family at their dinner table which was next to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city. The room had an aroma of marinara sauce and Italian food. I sat at the rectangular wooden table across from Mr. Styles and his sister. June must have been cooking in the kitchen because she walked to us with an apron on. She held plates in her hands and set them on the table gently. She then came back with her own plate and we began to eat the pasta. June asked me how I liked the food to which I replied, "It's very good, Mrs. Styles. Do you cook all the time? You don't have a chef?"