Sweet Little Lies

Chapter One Hundred and Two

Harry blinked open his eyes, feeling the room spin a little before balancing out. He had fallen asleep on his desk. Looking over, he saw that it was well into the evening.

With a frown, he picked up his water and drank the rest of it in one go. His mouth was so dry, but he started feeling nauseous immediately. After a few deep breaths, he stood up and made his way to the door. Moving wasn't as bad as Harry thought it would be. But he knew he needed to get to the bathroom soon.

Vaguely, he waved off his secretary, who stood as he entered the lobby. The restroom was just down the hall, but it felt like it stretched out for miles. The nausea moved up his stomach to rest in his throat. He groaned, unbuttoning the top few buttons on his shirt.

Everything he ate that day came up in a matter of seconds once he found a toilet. Harry couldn't remember the last time he got sick like this. It was rare for him to feel ill enough to throw up or stay home from work.

After what felt like an hour, Harry flushed and stood up. He cleaned himself up at the sink, rinsing out his mouth and splashing cold water on his face. He did feel better, but his body felt weak. Bracing himself against the counter, he closed his eyes and steadied himself. The dizziness wasn't affecting him as much anymore and his excessive sweating had stopped. But his arms and legs were shaky and felt heavy. If he were to lay down, he would be able to fall asleep immediately.

He splashed his face once more, sighing out in exhaustion. It was time to head home. The thought of a shower and soft clothes was soothing to him. Maybe he could convince Ivy to bring him home some soup.

The walk back to his office was much quicker. His body wasn't screaming for some type of release this time around. When he turned the corner, he saw his assistant coming out of his office, his trash tied up in the small bag in her hand, his cold tea in the other.

"Are you feeling okay?" She asked, "You looked a little sick on your way to the restaurant and you didn't drink your tea."

"I'm fine." He told her, passing by her and entering his office. "You can go home. I'm done for the day."

"I actually had something to talk to you about."

"Hm?" He grabbed his suit jacket and keys off the desk, his back to her.

"You know it's such a shame you didn't drink your tea." She said, "It would make things so much easier."

"What?" Harry looked over his shoulder, and froze at the sight.

His assistant stood at his door, the trash and tea discarded, and in their place a gun. Pointed at him.

Straightening out, Harry turned to face her slowly, his hands up, keys bundled up into one. "What are you doing?" He asked coldly.

"Drop your keys." She said, voice now completely different.

Harry sighed, slowly putting his keys down on his desk. His gun was secured underneath his desk on the other side, too far for him to grab. His phone was also on the desk, but he didn't think he would be able to pocket it right in front of her.

He looked back at her, narrowing his eyes in a challenge, but didn't say anything. His meek, smart assistant was gone, in her place a cold and calculated woman who had killed before. There was no doubt in his mind that she had. Her blue eyes were dead as she stared at him, her hand steady with the gun pointed directly at his heart.

She stepped aside and jerked her chin towards the door. "Why don't we take this into conference room B."

He started walking that way, keeping his hands up and visible. In his mind, he started to think of his options. How would he get out of this? The building was probably most empty, and no one would hear a gun shot from this floor anyways. Ivy was out with Willow, not expecting him home anytime soon, and Griffin had the day off, spending it with Cecilia. His personal guard was down in the lobby, but Harry regularly worked late, so this wouldn't be weird. Not at least for another few hours, in which he could be long dead.