HARRY STYLES - IMAGINES

Adore you HS III + INFO

Hey there! hope you had a lovely New Years eve! A very good friend of mine (the one that requested Falling in love is a dumb idea...) and I watched Dunkirk, means we ended the year with good ol' Harold. Anyways, I dont know why I just told that, its not important. 

What I really wanted to announce, was, that I will not continue Adore you as a OS series bc it would just stretch itself over like 10 parts. I however decided to make a book out of it. I love to write this thingy here so much, I dont want to cut it and leave stuff out, just so it fits into the OS-Frame. I am sorry to do that, Ik it can be annoying but I really hope you understand and don't stop reading :) This will be my last update on that book (of Adore you), I feel like I owe you that. All my love and apologies, please don't be mad,  Nica🤍

"So you seriously consider going out tonight with a complete stranger?" Richard asked between gritted teeth as I just sat down for our shared breakfast. I rose my eyebrow, eyeing him slightly surprised. "I am. No, actually I already decided on going out. I wanted to watch that play Richard, you know that." He just huffed, clearly not approving. "Besides, he is not as a strange as you put him. We had a good conversation about various topics yesterday. You were then talking to Arthur and Edward..." I explained, reaching for my cup of coffee. Richard said nothing, he just shrugged, clearly put out. But I wasn't going to call it off, I felt like I really did deserve this little candy for myself. I mean, he dragged me to this boring dinner just yesterday, I deserved a break. "You do know that the New York Times admitted that the play allegedly "does not contain a single situation which is dramatically new." And that seems like a serious..." he started but I cut him off with a laugh. "I saw that. But they still thought it's charming somehow. But you should know how less I care about stuff like this. I like forming my own opinions over something. Now stop pouting sweetheart, it won't be long." He obviously wouldn't stop pouting and making a bigger deal out of the whole thing than it was. He continued being whiny until lunch, then, started to ignore me icily up to dinner. It was ridiculous, really.

"Sandrine!" I called out for our maid, struggling to close the buttons on my dress. "Yes Miss?" she asked, her head poking through the doorframe. "A little help if you wouldn't mind." I breathed heavily, turning my back towards her. "Of course Miss, just one second." I frowned irritated. "For what?" I heard a dull thud, as if something got placed on the ebony table right next to the door that connected the bathroom with the bedroom. "Mr Griffith ordered me to get the French tablecloth and the silver cutlery from the store room." I gave her a confused look. The silver cutlery was usually used during Christmas times or birthdays, occasionally also for important dinners and not just for fun. It was an antique after all, quite precious as far as I knew. But the French tablecloth irritated me the most because it was almost valuable than the cutlery in my eyes and we only, specifically used it for Christmas. Spoken tablecloth was a fine large French cream Alencon lace tablecloth coming from a fine collectors deaccession of linens. The design was quite ornate and beautiful, large florals and roses filling the design on the cloth. The florals, and leaves were all lovely outlined and raised cordoned by hand. And, most importantly, it had originally belonged to my great-great-grandmother and was inherited over generations. It even still had the original family crest embroidered on it. So, that white cloth meant something to me, though it could seem ridiculous to some. "Why in the name of Jesus Christ would he use the cloth and the cutlery? Have I missed something?" I asked Sandrine, turning around for her again. "Well, Mr. Griffith has invited several members of the Benton Millionaires Club for dinner Miss." My eyebrow wandered higher up, outrage slightly tingling in the pit of my stomach. "Do you know who he has invited so surprisingly?" I asked, energetically opening my clutch to search for the powder, I had forgotten to take out last night. "As far as I am informed, Mr. Griffith has invited Mr, Harkness, Mr. Curtiss James, Mr. Widener and Mr. Baker including their wives." I snorted. "Mr. Baker? As in George F. Baker?" Sandrine shrugged shyly. "I believe so Miss." George F. Baker was a leading financier and if he kept up with it, probably the financier of the decade. The nickname the "Dean of American Banking" had he already received, and my fiancé made sure to insinuate himself at every chance possible. The other man, Mr. Widener (or quote: Joseph for you darling ) was part of one of America's richest old money dynasties. He was born into wealth already and managed to increase his fortune double, tipple and tenfold. Yet, unlike his two brothers, he had little interest in the business world and focused on his passions of art and horse racing instead. Short story long, he was a good man to talk with, though he and I sometimes weren't exactly sharing the same point of view. And Harkness, well, I have already voiced my opinion on that man earlier. With their wives I had had minimal contact so far, Mrs. Florence Tucker-Baker being the only one I had engaged in a few decent conversations. Mostly we'd talked about the 19th amendment (she was a fierce supporter of it, what I really liked) and we got along quite well. She wasn't stuck up at all, which was something I learned to appreciate in the higher circles. Mr Harkness spouse, Mrs. Mary Stillman-Harkness wasn't like Florence at all. Having a man who couldn't keep his eyes or fingers off other women, turned her into a pert, jealous hag that couldn't muster a friendly word if it wasn't one hundred percent necessary. I remember her having a cute, loving smile that she'd display often – after being married to Edward for four years it was hardly ever seen again. Long story short, I wasn't on all too good terms with her, since her husband had taken a sudden and creepy liking to me. Of course this was very unpleasant for me, however, not really my fault, but she tended to ignore this fact gladly and persistent. Mrs James on the other hand was a complete stranger to me. The only thing I knew, was that she was called Harriet Eddy Parsons and was a prominent hostess in New York City, known for her Newport estate's Blue Gardens. I actually was interested in getting to know her and maybe one day visit her gardens, but I just never did. Maybe the next (boring) event would be my lucky night. With All in all, and to be completely honest, not the people to use my grand-grand-nans cloth in any case, the cutlery however was appropriate in my eyes. "When will they arrive?" I asked Sandrine, right before she disappeared through the door. "Eight o'clock Miss, the half an hour before the curtains on stage open, pulled back by a cowboy in leather boots and a large hat." I threw her a surprised glance. "Have you seen the play already?" she gave me a shy smile. "I have Miss. I really liked all of it, despite what the New York times allegedly said." I smirked softly. "Or what my fiancé says...talking of him, please do not use Alencon lace tablecloth. I do not see how it is appropriate in any way tonight. I don't want stains on it and I heard that Mrs. Harkness is not only bitter, but also jittery with wine." Sandrine nodded swiftly visibly biting back a smile. "As you wish M'am."