HALO - h.s.

2

"He's here."

Papà's deep voice makes me look up from the book laying on my lap. As my eyes search the room, I find him inspecting the security cameras at the entrance of our penthouse on his phone, seeming to be closely watching every move on the screen.

"Right on time." He puts away his phone in the inside pocket of his black blazer, a satisfied look on his face. "Bruno's waiting to leave to the airport."

Already? It's been a week since he told me about the whole bodyguard thing, the last week in months I could enjoy my freedom, and it flew by way too fast. Before I knew it, the day Papà had to leave arrived, bringing Harry Styles along with it.

"How wonderful," I scoff, putting my book on the coffee table and standing up from the couch. "Can't wait to meet him."

Papà sends me a warning look. "Please behave, Ellie. Don't make him quit at the spot with your attitude. It's too short notice to find another one."

I want to respond, but the beeping of the elevator cuts me off. The steel doors open, and the first thing I see are two big duffle bags, carried by a brunet guy with his eyes focused on the floor, hiding his face. But then he looks up, causing recognition, because the emerald color of his eyes is exactly the same as on his picture.

He looks intimidating, just like he did on his picture. He's dressed in a black button-down and pants, and taller than I expected him to be. Way taller.

As soon as those emerald eyes meet mine, something else I didn't expect to see appears. It's a smirk, one corner of his mouth lifted, and the exact opposite of the straight face I saw on his picture.

With our eyes still locked and the grin lingering on his lips, I can't make myself smile back at him. It's like the corners of my mouth are stuck in place, and all I'm thinking of is I'm really going to be stuck with a guy, with him, for half a year. And something about him already smells fishy. It's a gut feeling.

The guy then clears his throat and moves his gaze to Papà, now smiling so brightly the reflection of his white teeth hurts my eyes. He politely nods his head, stepping out of the elevator, still with the nauseating smile on his lips.

He puts down his two bags next to him om the floor. "Mr Dal Santo, it's nice to meet you. I'm Harry Styles."

His accent is so British and obnoxious I almost lose it and crack up at the spot. He sounds absolutely ridiculous, straight out of Downtown Abbey or a preppy university.

Luckily Papà doesn't notice how close I am to laughing my ass off. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr Styles. Welcome at Casa Dal Santo."

Papà's words make me realise he hasn't met this guy before. Isn't he aware of what can happen if he isn't as properly screened as we think he is? I can't even imagine the possible intentions he might have, and in how much danger I could be.

I brush away the feeling, now looking at the two of them shaking hands. Given the satisfied look on his face, Papà doesn't seem to have the doubts I'm experiencing, and his calm expression makes my nerves slightly fade away. If Papà trusts him, I guess I have so too. I don't think I have another choice.

"I assume you're aware of the details of your job, given you've signed the contract?"

The tall guy nods, his dark brown curls bouncing a little. "Yes, I am, Sir. Your daughter's safety is my priority at all costs."

"Good." Both of them have moved on from looking at each other to looking at me, giving me an incredibly awkward feeling. I nervously start shifting around, fidgeting with my necklace. I have no clue what to say or how to act, this guy is a total stranger. And a creepy one.