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This opening seems to startle every one of my readers so here's your warning! This story includes smut and I will not inform you about them too many times. Please enjoy Magisterial xx.

Harry's POV

I ram into the blonde beneath me one last time before spilling into the condom, short pants escaping my lips while loud, obnoxious moans and the name of another man emit from hers. I pull out and roll over, peeling the latex off and sliding on my briefs, slacks, and button up shirt. Once presentable, I reach over and turn the lamp on, grabbing my other accessories from the same night stand. The light illuminates the blonde's sweat layered skin, the sudden brightness causing her to sit forward and squint up at me.

"Where are you going?" I cringe at her squeaky tone and turn to exit her hotel room.

"Shut up, Rachel," I scowl in response and run my fingers through my surly wild curls.

"It's Rebecca," She corrects, slightly offended, and I turn back around, my notorious glare making her quickly shut her mouth and cover her naked self more with the sheets. I snort and storm out, slamming the door behind me with so much force that I an surprised it doesn't split in half.

My long strides quickly bring me down the hall to the grand elevators. I fix the cuffs of my shirt and tuck the hem under my pants, reattaching a gold Rolex watch to my wrist and pulling the matching jacket over my shoulders as the elevator brings me down to the lobby.

"Good evening, sir," The elderly hotel receptionist bows his head as I grunt and shove open the massive glass doors to the elegant building.

My car is parked at the curb with the driver, Aaron, standing erect with his arms behind his back by the passenger door. He nods towards me when he notices me rushing down the few steps, and opens the back door immediately. He makes his way to the drivers seat, puts the car in drive, and pulls away from the brilliant hotel without interrogation. I sigh and pinch my bottom lip between my thumb and index finger, hitting my knees together in an oddly anxious manner.

The time lighting up on my phone screen reads 10:02; leaving me with not enough time to complete my work and too much time to not do anything. If I did an hours worth of work, I could be in bed by eleven and get a solid eight hours of sleep. However, my mind isn't focused on papers and planning. It is set on the two most unfortunately mixed thoughts: Sex and calling my mother.

"Mr. Styles, we have arrived," Aaron announces, snapping me from my thoughts.

"Right," The door is already opened and I wonder how long he's been standing there waiting. "Tomorrow is the usual; be here by eight." I sternly speak and press my lips into a thin line, standing from the car and striding into the glass building.

Aaron nods once more and climbs back into the car to take it to the parking garage while I press the button on the elevator, reminding myself to call someone to fix the unbearably slow pace. Once the doors are open, I throw my shoulders back and step inside, tapping my foot impatiently as it brings me up to my penthouse.

The living room is dark and I drag my hand over the gray walls to find the light switch, flicking it up once I do. Sighing, I scan the room for something to do and eventually decide on actually getting something done.

I bound up the steps and into the master bedroom to replace my dress shirt with a plain white t-shirt. I remove my shoes, socks, and slacks and left my briefs on, pulling out my laptop and papers from the briefcase resting beside the bed. I settle myself on top of the mattress and rest my binder and laptop on my thighs. The keyboard clicks as I type away, my previously disturbing thoughts eventually vanishing as I am sucked into a "business bubble".

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