Priory // h.s.

chapter twenty-three

After the doorbell rings for the sixth time, I finally roll out of bed, groaning as I untangle myself from my blankets. Muttering under my breath, I pad out of my bedroom and into the living room. The sound of gentle snoring drifts out from Jillian's room; she's still lost in a deep sleep. I sniff. Serves her right for staying out all night and partying.

Then again, it's not like I was in bed last night either.

As the bell is rung for the seventh time in a row, I tug the door open. "What?" I demand.

A cheerful Harry stands on the other side. His curly hair is quiffed in an attractive manner, and he's already dressed: clad in a pair of black jeans and a white shirt. Simple, but it strangely suits him. He examines my attire. "Winnie The Pooh pajamas. Very nice."

"Thanks," I respond carelessly, words slurred by a yawn.

"You're always wearing the strangest outfits when you open the door, Amber."

I grin at him sleepily. "I have great fashion sense." I step back from the entrance and wave my hand invitingly. "C'mon in."

We flop down on the couch. Considering the serious subject we're supposed to be discussing, Harry appears surprisingly relaxed. He leans back against the cushions and rests his head in his hands, letting out a comfortable sigh. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah. I'm feeling a little better now," I admit.

"So you were sick yesterday."

"I never said that."

Shrugging it off, Harry leans forward and rubs his hands together. "So. Project Invect."

My heart thumps a little louder. Even though it's a sunny summer morning, involuntary shivers course through me. "Project Invect," I repeat softly.

He pulls a notebook out of his pocket and flips it open. "What did we find out yesterday night?"

"Damon is either working with or working for other men. And those men would be Mr. Lee and his accomplice; the ones who came here on that plane. Given their accents and the fact that they flew here, I think it's safe to say that this is a multi-country project, or at the very least, multi-state," I recount.

Harry's gaze is extraordinarily keen as he watches me. "Agreed. Anything else?"

I answer his question with a question. "But what is the project for?"

"Mr. Lee said that Mr. Reeves needs to finish gathering all the ingredients needed. Gonna guess they're working on some kind of formula."

"But what for?"

Harry is silent for a while. When he does speak, his words are completely unrelated to the topic. "D'you have breakfast ready?"

"No." I rub my eyes with the back of my hands. "I just got up."

"Christ, Amber, it's like ten o' clock."

"Jillian's still asleep," I respond defensively, and Harry stifles a laugh.

He arches his hands over his head and laces his fingers together, stretching. "Well, come on then."

I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously. "Where are we going?"

He jerks his head, taking me by the hand and dragging me to my feet. It's not the first time we've locked hands, but for some reason the contact with his skin sends electric waves charging down my spine. "We're going over to my flat so I can cook something for breakfast. As you already know, I'm an amazing cook." The look on his face is smug enough to raise cream in skim milk.