H A V E N
Wiping a wing of black eye liner on my eyelid I close my makeup bag and smooth out my slimming white dress. Grabbing my red heels and throwing on my signature red lipstick, I grab my coat and keys and head out the door.
Looking at the business card he gave me I use Google maps to navigate my way to his office. God I don't know what I would do without Google.
"Hey baby, what's up?" A yellow Hummer pulls up beside me at the light. I ignore them and tighten my hand on the wheel.
"C'mon babe we can make it worth your while." The wink. Disgusting college kids.
"I don't do children, darling." I smirk smugly.
"Good thing I'm not a child." The blonde one licks his lips.
"I can have you on your a.ss in a blink of an eye, so take your small p.enis and go stick it in a teenage slut who has daddy issues." I say politely and flip them off before driving off. I arrive at the silver tower and hop out of my car parking it in the parking lot. Mauvering my way in I reach the lobby.
"May I help you?" A blonde haired woman, with a nasty look on her face asks me.
"Ah Yes Barbie, you can, where's Mr.Styles office?" I smirk at her watching her reaction. She scoffs and files her manicured nails.
"What's it to you?" She asks rudely.
"Well Barbie, you might know me Haven Tuckett owner of the number one club in London, the Play House." I put out my hand.
"My business here with Mr.Styles, is strictly confidential but very important, I'm talking business sales, and financial importance." The lies slip off my tongue as her eyes widen. She picks up the phone and dials a number.
"Mr.Styles, a Miss Tuckett is here to see you." She informs. Something happens, she gasps and nods quickly.
"Yes sir, yes sir." She hangs up.
"Please Miss Tuckett go on up, top floor." She shakes.
"You okay barbie?" She looks flush. She nods and motions me toward the elevator. I hop on a press the top floor button impatienly waiting. The ding sounds and the sound of my dark burgundy higheels carry me to the main door. I open it and step inside.
"Wow, it's pretty plain up here, you need some color, and that Barbie downstairs looked like she was about to pass out, what in the hell did you say to her?" I ramble.
"Its professional." He turns his chair to face me.
"It can have colors and be professional."
"Haven, the Barbie downstairs was told that you are to be put down on the acceptance list."
"Acceptance list? Seriously?"
"It's only for special people, Have." My nickname I haven't heard in years rolls off his tongue so, nicely.
"Har, take me to dinner, I'm starving." I prop my heels onto his mahogany desk.
"You certainly are a charmer." He mumbles.
"What can I say doll face I live to please." I giggle. He shakes his head at me and grabs his coat before leading me out of the office.
"Paps will be everywhere." He informs.
"Don't worry I'll be a good girl." I say teasingly.
"I mean it Haven, this is my career."
"Well I have one too."
"You're a stripper." Hell to the no I'm not. Okay maybe a little bit but I don't do the whole behind the curtain s.hit. Or let men stuff dollars down my bra or panties. That's unsanitary.
"And you're an asshole, why did I even agree to this."
"Because you love me." He sings.
"You're funny Styles."
"Hey, I tried." He defends.
"Would you like me to get you a gold star? Whoop dee f.ucking doo." I swat his arm.
"I know why, it's because I'm getting free dinner, and knowing you it will be some fancy s.hit that costs alot." I state confidently trying to piss him off.
"Well, Yes." He shrugs.
***
"Table for two under Styles." Harry says to the hostess. More like hoestess because I've never seen so much cleavage in my d.amn life.
"Mr.Styles, I'm terribly sorry all of our tables our booked." The hoestess squeaks.
"Do you know who I am? I am the most wealthiest man in London, I don't care if the whole Parliament is sitting there, I'll f.ucking out bid them." His neck vein becomes more prominent. The hoestess stays silent, almost shaking.
"I was right you are an egotistical p.rick." He turns to me with an angry expression.
"How dare you? Throw your title around like it f.ucking means something? Go f.uck yourself d.ick." I walk out of the restaurant.
I grab my clutch and pull out a pack of Red Marlboro cigarettes and my blue zippo lighter. I hold the toxic object between my lips and light the end. Taking a couple drags I run my hands through my hair, thinking of how to get home.
"I'm sorry." Harry steps forward to me.
"You should be." I snap.
"It was very-"
"Unprofessional, rude, egotistical?" I suggest.
"Unprofessional." His teeth grit.
"And all the others." I sing smiling at him.
"You're annoying as hell." He let's out a breathy laugh and sits on the wall beside me.
"That makes two of us." I grin.
"May I?" He asks looking at my pack. I shrug and hand him it along with my lighter.
"Thanks." He mumbles and lights the end. If Harry Styles smoking a cigarette in a suit and tie doesn't make you want to drop your panties and hop on his d.ick I don't know what will.
"Listen, I just wanted to apologize for everything." He sighs.
"You've already said you're sorry." I state turning my head to look at him.
"And you forgive me?" He asks quietly. His hopeful green eyes looking into my soul.
"Of course," I reply. He smiles,
"But that doesn't mean I'm going to start a relationship with you."
"But you forgave me?" His face droops.
"Listen honey bee, I'm fifty shades of f.ucked up so before you hop on this wagon, you better respect me and treat me like a queen." I inhale the smoke feeling at peace.
"You are very demanding." He tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. I flinch but allow him to do it.
"That makes two of us Styles."
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