Stacey's POV
“Fine, i'll leave you to your work. But this matter isn't over, Harry. We're engaged and to be married, I shouldn't have to be subjected to hearing about this bullshit from other ladies in this building” I say in a huff. I make a beeline towards the exit in one swift motion, wanting to get the hell out of that office before my emotions got the best of me. I refuse to cry in front of any man, especially if that man is Harry Styles.
The restrooms on the fourth floor are close by to the elevators. My heels clink to the floor as I walk through the door of the restroom, double checking for a blue figure with a dress. As soon as the door is shut, I examine the bottom – opening of the stalls for shoes. Once I am assured that i'm alone, I let out a high pitched screech. Being in that cramped space that Harry calls “his office” has only fueled my annoyance and rage.
I'm unaware of the tears spilling down my cheeks until I catch my reflection in the mirror. “This is what that man,” I say as I wipe my tear – stained cheeks and reapply translucent powder and blush to the apples of my cheeks. “Has done to me,” I continue.
“Tiffany is the sole answer to the problems I share with Harry,” I think out loud as I smear lipstick onto my lips with caution. “I don't need these three layers of push up bras anymore. This mini skirt and revealing blouse didn't get the job done either” I say as I peel the clothing off in one of the bathroom stalls. “This thong won't do me any good” I remark with a sigh. Harry Styles drives a hard bargain. It feels as though i'm never good enough for him. He's constantly surrounded by models that prance around in skimpy clothing and chicken legs. They play him for his money, but I play him for security; a future.
Thirty – five years ago, my father, Neil Burke, co – founded Styles Fascinova alongside Gareth Styles, Harry's father. My father always dreamt of bringing together the Burkes and the Styles through the marriage of their heirs. I was simply fulfilling my duties as the daughter of the late Neil Burke, and if that meant dealing with Harry's bullshit, then so be it.
Harry was a arrogant, selfish bastard that had everything handed to him on a silver platter. Including this company. I wasn't going to allow him to screw Styles Fascinova over. This company provided me the lifestyle of luxury i've thrived off from for twenty four years and held promises of a secure future.
Tiffany applied for the position as secretary based off my suggestions. If Tiffany was hired by Harry, I intended for her to be my eyes' and ears' when I wasn't around. She would be a spy, informing me of Harry's infidelities and two timing ways. In the back of my mind, I knew my accusations were insane, but when you're constantly subjected to office gossip about your fiance's next play toy, you'd go a little nuts too.
I changed into the clothes I brought as back up while clearing my head. My plan to seduce Harry into giving Tiffany the position failed miserably. If she doesn't get the position, I don't know how i'll manage to keep sane. Deciding i've drowned in my own sorrows long enough, I decide to exit the stall. Just as i'm about to open the restroom's door, a brace – faced, frizzy haired, shabby girl stumbles into me, knocking my purse into the ground. I take in her appearance a second time, giving her a look of pity rather than disgust.
She mumbles a sorry, and bends down to pick up my purse. “Here's your purse miss,” the girl says whilst pressing the purse to my hands. I take the purse from her hands and out of courtesy, I reply with a “thank you.” She moves past me, locking herself into one of the stalls. I'm left puzzled when I leave the restroom, my thoughts consumed by the strange girl I ran into in the restroom. What business does a girl like that have at a place like Styles Fascinova?
The elevator door opens, revealing an agitated Tiffany in a mini skirt with a matching blazer and knee high boots. She calls my name in an earsplitting voice, “Staceyyy!” She steps off the elevator and goes to find a seat. By the time she's settled in, her hands are grasping a cup of coffee as she retells the events of her morning.
“It was horrible. My phony–ass ex- husband gifted me a car that wouldn't even start up. I h..had” Tiffany looks at me with horror in her eyes as she gulps down her coffee. “I had to take the bus this morning” she shrieks. “Oh Stacey, it was humiliating! I had to walk the rest of the way here in my new heels” Tiffany complains. “Would you let your best friend go through this again? Stacey, I can't possibly come to work everyday without a car! You have to help me Stacey! I promised myself I'd never step a foot in that bus again” Tiffany protest.
She looks up at me with sad eyes. Harry and I's problems had made me forgotten how melodramatic Tiffany was. “Tiffany, sweetheart, you won't need a car to drive if you don't get hired” I tell her while grinning. “Stacey, you can't be serious right now” she squeals. Just as I begin to think of away to change the topic, the receptionist says behind her desk, “Ms. Robinson, Mr. Styles would like to see you in his office.”
Tiffany gets up off the chair, straightening the wrinkles of her skirt while wiping the tears that brim her eyes. I give her a hug for good luck, and send her on her way. I am counting on her in more ways than she thinks.
