Harry Styles Must Die

Prologue

I swept some lip gloss to my lips and gently ran my fingers to my newly showered hair. I didn't have enough time left to blow dry it, Uncle told me I shouldn't be late because the client was a very busy one and every second counted for her. If I just woke up in time, I wouldn't be rushing myself. Fuck Sophie for dragging me to that stupid pool party last night.

I walked to the living room to get my keys. Wait. Was that a guy lying naked on the couch? Holy shit. The guy I danced with last night! Oh yeah, we got drunk and started making out, but I told him to go home after! Stupid asshole.

"Get up you dick!" I shouted while kicking his legs. "Move your body and get the hell out of here!"

"Hey, what now? Oh, good morning shawty!"

"Get out. Now!" I snapped.

"Hey girl, chill. Aren't you going to offer me some breakfast? I'm starving." He said while picking up his clothes.

"Eat shit. Just leave ok? I got a very important meeting today and I'm running late!" I yelled.

"Ok, ok! I'm going to leave now. By the way, you're amazing last night" He walked to the door and when I was about to close it, he stopped it with his feet, grinning at me. Goddamit what does he want now?

"I'm afraid I didn't catch your name. I'm Erick, by the way" he said, smiling widely. He's cute though, hazel eyes and brown hair.

"It's not important. Now go fuck yourself." And I closed the door.

Shit. It's 11.45. I'm so fucked up. I left the house and ran into my car. I started the engine, kissed the steering wheel and took off. The supposed to be 20 minute ride became 12. Damn I'm good!

I stepped out from my car and walked to the glass doors of the hotel. This place was freaking rich. As I made my way to the elevator, I felt pairs of eyes staring at me. The fuck was wrong with these creatures? Like I'm naked or something! I'm wearing decent clothes here, people. I took a glance of my reflection in the elevator door, yes that's how shiny it was. My black skinny jeans are embracing my curves, and my white tube top flatters my breast. I'm wearing a black blazer though, so I'm not flashing too much skin. The man beside me keeps on looking at my boobs and my ass. Men are really like dogs, tsk.

Twenty second floor. This is it. I looked for the room-number Uncle texted me and pushed the door bell. An old lady whom I suppose works as a maid opened the door.

"Come in, they are waiting for you" she said just before I introduce myself. Seems like Uncle already told them how I look like. I followed her to the living room, my eyes wandering around the place. Holy shit it looks expensive! White tiles, gold and purple curtains, and lots of potted plants. The tables and chairs look so elegant. There were huge paintings in the wall that I don't understand. I shook my head. Gone were the days of Michelangelo and Da Vinci. Even I can make those kinds of paintings by just splashing some colors to the canvass. Then I will stroke my brush here and there and BAM! These rich bitches will be dying to buy my artwork to hang them in their expensive walls.

There were also huge sculptures in the room, I saw a bust of Venus and Zeus. It gives an early Greek vibe. I wonder if they are going to serve Greek salads for lunch. LUNCH! Fuck I'm starving, haven't eaten anything since last night. Jesus!

"There she is! Just in time." It's Uncle Fabio. I haven't seen him for 2 months. After our last client, he told me to take a vacation in New Zealand. He's really generous when you did the job perfectly, but once you flopped, you're dead.

"Hi, Uncle. Looking good!" I kissed him gently in the cheek and he gave me a warm hug. I noticed that his hair changed. The white threads are gone; he probably colored it again to hide his age. He's really conscious about being 50, he's afraid the girls will start to unlike him once he looked old. But the truth is, those girls will not leave him no matter what his age is, coz this old man is rolling in cash.

"You must be Kashia Goncalvez." That's the only time I noticed the blonde woman sitting in front of us. She's wearing a black dress, and the diamonds in her neck are sparkling. I think she's an Italian because of her accent. She has blue eyes, soft curls, and a well-chiseled nose. She's really beautiful. She might be in her thirties, I guess.

"Good afternoon, Madam. Kashia Goncalvez at your service" I greeted back politely. I offered my hand for a handshake, which she took. I sat down across of her, ready for business. Alright, bring it on!

"Kashia, she is Mrs. Franco. She traveled all the way from Milan just to see us." My Uncle said.

Oh yes baby I'm right, she's Italian. Damn I'm good.

"What can I do for you, Mrs. Franco?'" I asked while looking her straight in the eye, and I saw how anger enveloped her soul. She reached for her purse and pulled something from it. She handed me a picture of a boy, looked at me with those fiery eyes and sharply said,

"I want you to kill Harry Styles."

*****
A/N
Thank you so much for taking the time to click on this story. This was written in 2012 so it's a bit messy and fetus, haha. Also, if you would like to check a more mature Harry fic (erotic kind of story) you could check my current work —The Mechanic. For mature people only, k?
Thanks a bunch! Enjoy!