'You are going to help me acquire something very valuable,' he spoke close to my ear, his breath fanning down my neck. I looked up at the paintings in front of us, all worth millions of pounds, and then at the spot on the wall where one was missing. The knowledge of what had happened to it was giving me the adrenaline I needed to allow myself to be so close to his presence. 'Why are you trusting me with this?' I asked, turning my head slightly to face him. His green eyes met mine, a small smile turning at the corners of his lips. The room was silent as tourists filtered through the gallery, each one taking their time to focus on the artwork before them. This was a crazy proposition. I'd never been the type to run towards crazy. 'Well, you haven't told anyone yet have you? And I suspect you're seeking a little adventure.' * Atlas Hall has played it safe her whole life. Harry Styles lives for the thrill of it all. When she's recruited by the mysterious stranger, adventure awaits.

Don't you call her baby. We're not talking lately. Don't you call her what you used to call me... A story in which a girl who writes songs falls in love with the boy who sings them. "Color...What a deep and mysterious language, the language of dreams." - Paul Gauguin. DO NOT PRINT MY BOOKS! *TW: story contains mature topics such as mental abuse, PTSD, minor drug usage, and minor sexual content.*