The Artist

Chapter Thirty Five

Anonymous POV

"I'm telling you Don, she's no good." I try to persuade him. Why is everyone so goddamn blind.

"Styles trusts her and I trust him. He's never let me down." Don shakes his head at me. I roll my eyes.

"Styles doesn't have his head in the game Don, he's as blind as you are."

Don springs from his chair, placing a blade to my throat and pulling me back by the hair.

"I will not be disrespected by my own employee, you hear me? Or do I have to remind you of where you were before I found you?" He presses the knife harder against my skin. "Answer me!" He screams in my face.

I shiver "Yes sir. I'm sorry." I breathe. He whips the knife away, almost cutting my skin in the process.

"Styles has followed orders, he's stuck to the plan and done a damn good job at it too. From what I can see, she's eating out of his hands. Unless you have reason to believe she has, or is planning to yap. I don't want to hear her name coming outta your mouth again. Got it?" He spits and I nod.

"Got it." I confirm.

"Now get the hell out."

Ellen's POV

"What do we do now?" Harry sighs contentedly.

"Grocery shopping." I laugh, standing up from the sofa and grabbing my purse.

"What?" He asks, his eyes following my as I gather up my stuff.

"I need food." I shrug. "I'll let you push the trolley." I tease and he rolls his eyes playfully. He does that a lot, eye rolling.

"I was gonna suggest something a little more romantic but sure." He shrugs, laughing.

"Harry Styles, romantic isn't a word that's in your vocabulary." I raise my brow.

He scoffs, putting his hand on his chest in mock hurt. "Excuse me?" He flips his hair back. "Baby, you haven't seen everything I can do yet." He smirks, grabbing my hand and opening the door for me, purposely making a big deal out of it.

"Oh my god stop." I giggle when he bows in front of me. "I like asshole you much better." I laugh, linking arms with him.

"Women," he sighs "I'll never understand em." He pecks my cheek and we take the stairs down.

The entire way through shopping, Harry does in fact push the trolley, but he moans and complains about it the entire time.

"Are you almost done yet?" He puffs, trailing with the trolley behind me.

"Stop complaining!" I laugh at him, throwing a can of soup into the trolley.

He disappears for a minute and returns with a case of beer and a bag of gummy worms, putting them in the trolley. I give him a questioning look and he shrugs.

"What are you, fourteen?" I chuckle and he puts his hand on my back, guiding me towards he till. "I need milk!" I inform him. God I wish he'd quit rushing me.

"I'll go get it, you wait in line." And with that, he jogs off to get milk.

I stand and wait for about ten minutes, letting a lot of pissed off shoppers go in front of me. Eventually, he emerges from an aisle with a litre of milk. Better late than never.

"Sorry, I couldn't find it." He laughs, putting it on the check out counter and unloading everything else while I put the trolley back.

He packs everything up, giving me a bag to carry and taking the heavier bag himself, with his remaining free hand, he grabs mine, grinning happily at me.