LUST [H.STYLES]

ONE

CHAPTER ONE

I did not want to be here: cooped up in the corner of Calum's bedroom, hidden behind a set of drawers that had been meticulously placed with me in mind, my knees bent under my chin as I stifled a sigh.

For the past hour and a bit I had been folded out of sight from his visitors, my heart leaping uncomfortably in my chest ten minutes into my concealing as a balding head protruded from behind the door before it was slammed shut. Calum had promised that this business was a short deal, that it was practically already done so my hiding wouldn't last too long. But it had and my body was starting to cramp up, fingers interlaced with each other as I strained to eavesdrop on whatever conversation was being shared in the sitting room opposite.

This was the first time in a month or two that I had been present during one of Calum's "work calls". Usually I'd make myself scarce, wander around the streets of London aimlessly and wait for the phone-call that commenced my return. Today though was different; a sharp jolt to the ribs from Calum and a desperate plead ended up with me nervously chewing at my fingernails every ten minutes, careful not to move an inch in fear that whoever was out there would hear.

But all this was simply the only life I had ever known. Growing up with two elder brothers was always deemed to be more annoying than fun, the constant pressure to tell them who I was with and where I was going getting too much to handle. They had shown me how to handle myself: attending small classes of martial arts from a young age, my belt wrapped securely around my waist as they took it in turns to walk me there and back every week. As I gradually got older though my dependence on them, especially Calum, got more and more weighted. I had no clue what they were actually up to until I accidentally trampled into a crime-scene they were halfway through cleaning, blood splattered up the cotton of my pyjama bottoms.

"Hey," Calum's hand startled me as he waved it in front of my hazed eyes, emotionless features mirroring mine as he bent down in front of me, "It's all done and dusted, you can come out now."

Moving in with Calum three years ago was a decision that my parents hated, paranoid about the fact that me, their little girl, could turn out to be like him. Broken contact between my parents and Calum had caused me to gravitate towards one of the only people I had ever truly trusted when growing up, the same person who never taught me right from wrong because in his eyes everyone has their own warped perception.

"It's been more than an hour asshole," I mumbled unamused, taking his hand in mine as he hauled me to my numbed feet. Pins and needles shot up my calves as I winced at the lack of sensation, "Who was it this time?"

I knew that Calum would never reveal the names of the people he did 'business' with, simply shrugging off my questions and queries as he'd try and change the topic with an exasperated grumble. Instead I would paint my own fictional image of faces that matched the gruff voices, illustrating them as burly men with crisp suits or a measly timid young kid who got roped into the depths of the underworld.

Despite the emotional closeness me and my brother shared there was a boundary that neither of us ever wanted to cross, certain areas of our lives that we hated to dwell on. His line of work was one of them: it was a forbidden secret that we both had to keep in order to ensure that we were as safe as possible, never speaking outside of the apartment we shared in fear that someone, somewhere, would stumble upon our words and jeopardise our security.

Studying his face for a few seconds I noticed the crease above his eyebrows, dark eyes burning circles into the plastered walls behind me. A stream of sunlight drenched the right side of his face, illuminating the curve of his cupids bow and the slight crooked bridge is his nose. He eerily resembled my father, the same thick hair that sat messily on his head and bounced every time he moved.

"You can't be here next time, okay?" His expression softened as his attention dragged itself back to my face. Pursed lips he waited a moment or two before backing up, taking a step away from me with a hand wiping at the frown ghosting his face.

Hesitant I nodded, unsure whether their was a layer of suspicion clouding the visitors aurora or if the business was starting to get a little more serious. Calum had always vowed to keep me safe, promising my parents over a heated shouting match down the phone the night I had ran after him, sodden feet pattering after the screeching tires of his car. I was never part of his plan.

"I'll find something to do." The lie tumbled from my mouth before I could stop it, his face flashing with comfort at my deceit. He had always wanted me to make friends and live a semi-normal life, to get out there and make a name for myself. An inkling ounce of greed kept drawing me in, one that I simply could not shake: I wanted to be one of them.

Calum had forced me to take my mothers name, retorting over and over that nobody would want to know anyone with the same last name as him. A family empire that was built on fear and terror was not one to flaunt - instead it was hushed away and rarely spoken upon, people only knew about us if they knew.

"No lingering in the corridors either else they'll catch you," He swallowed a thick lump that had been sitting in the back of his throat for a while now, "And no coming back here until I give you the all clear. Okay? I said okay?"

There were times in which I wished for a normal life, lying on my back and staring endlessly at the ceiling as I dreamt what university would be like and having a serious relationship. All of these things had been crossed out, scribbled over with black permanent marker when I begged Calum to let me live with him. Pleading eyes and a sense of urgency finally tipped him over the edge, whispered to himself over a tumbler of whiskey that he'd do his absolute all to make sure I was sheltered for the rest of my breathing life.

"You don't have to treat me like a kid, y'know." I muttered, barging past him with a sharp elbow to the ribcage as I emerged into the living room. A single plastic bag sat on the coffee table, the contents masked by the material.

"You still are one," A trembling hand grabbed at it, turning his back towards me as he shifted and tugged through drawers in need of a place to push the bag out of sight. Knuckles turning ghastly he leant chest first, not bothering to face my figure in the doorway, "Please don't touch that."

Without having to press for answers I already guessed what it was, the scene of something concealed in a measly bag being one I had come to see often. Calum had went ballistic the first time I found one, my curious hands peeling back the bag as my eyes were met with the shiny skin of a metal barrel as I stumbled over my own fingers when trying to fold it back up. The thick anger in his voice had shook me to my core, every fibre in my body laced with trepidation as he hammered it into my brain that I can't just go fumbling around and messing with his stuff.

"Maybe it's best if I get someone to come pick you up now. Spend a few nights with them until this is over." He waved a hand around the living room, spinning on the heel of his feet as our eyes connected once more. But this time there was a mere inch of softness playing on his features, a frown settling on his lips as they pressed into a straight line.

More often than not he would ship me off to someone he trusted, usually an old friend who owed him a favour or two. Being locked up in a hotel room with someone who had grown up with my brother seemed more exciting and thrilling than it actually was, sitting in uncomfortable silence for hours upon hours with my pupils fixated on my phone screen in front of me.

Shaking my head I relaxed my hunched shoulders, letting my hands drop to my waist as I knitted my eyebrows together, "No, no. It's fine, I'll keep myself busy tomorrow. I promise."