sugar baby [h.s]

ten

A/N: hey everyone! I hope you're still enjoying the story. I made the decision to make every 10th chapter from Harry's point of view, I thought it might be cool to get a bit of an insight into Harry's thoughts and feelings every once in a while. Let me know what you guys think. Hope you enjoy it! Love to you all! X

Harry's P.O.V

"Can I help clean up?" Elena asks after we both finish eating, I take both her plate and mine and load them into the dishwasher.

"No, I'll just get the maid to come and do it later" I reply as I give both of the pots a quick rinse, I was never very good at cleaning anyway, why start now?

"You have a maid too?" She asks, still perched at the island counter, a glass of wine in hand.

"Well what kind of hotel doesn't have a maid?" I smirk at her as I toss the rest of the food into the bin. A soft red flushes across her cheeks, obviously not having thought through her question before she asked it.

"Right, duh" she mumbles to herself and takes another sip of wine. The whole evening has felt so comfortable, it's odd. Even despite having quite an intense conversation less than an hour before. I was planning on playing my cards a little closer to my chest for at least a little while longer, but I don't want her to slip away just because I'm being an asshole.

She's the first girl I've made dinner for, the other arrangements I've had have been strictly about business. They've lasted around 3 months each, that's how long I've given people before they start to really hate me. By the time most of my investors find out I'm an asshole they're already locked into a contract and are stuck working with me. From there it's convincing them that it's better to work with the devil you know and the devil you don't. Not that I would call myself the devil, a distant relative maybe.

I turn my back to place the pots and pans onto the stove out for the cleaner to see and when I turn back around, I see Elena has wandered over to the windows. I caught her gazing out then the other time she was here too, I think I'm rather used to the view myself so I don't quite see the magic in it that she must see.

"How do you ever get any work done?" She calls back to me, her body still facing the window. I take the opportunity to gaze over her body. Her long brown hair hangs down her back, her skinny shoulders peeking out from behind the thick waves. She definitely isn't dressed for the London summertime in her sundress but she got lucky with the weather today. The hem hangs just above her knees, giving me a lovely view of her legs. Her pale skin is almost doll-like, except for a long healed over scar, that extends from the back of her knee down to almost the ankle on her right leg. She's completely and utterly gorgeous, and the more I get to know her the lovelier she seems to be.

"Discipline," I tell her as I walk over to join her at the window. "What's this scar on your leg?" I ask as I come to stand next to her. Her eyes squint to give me a somewhat quizzical look before she nods her head, I can practically see the light bulb turn on in her head.

"Oh, that; I've had it for years. I went to a sort of farm show event with my friend when I was 12, and we got bored so we decided to take a break from the cattle auction and go find some horses. Long story short; we started hopping over fences, my leg got caught in some barbed wire and I tore a nice gaping wound all down the back of my leg" I wince as she recounts the story, able to picture it in such vivid detail. She lets out a soft giggle in response to my pained expression.

"It didn't hurt that much, my friend had to point it out to me as I didn't even really noticed it was that bad. I didn't even need stitches." she leans her head back and extends her leg behind her, looking at the scar herself. "It's a funny reminder to me to not rush things in life and be careful. Well that, and always swing your legs nice and clear of the fence before you hop over, or just use the gate instead" I softly chuckle at the thought, I have my reminders inked into my skin by choice while hers are forced upon her by the universe, or lazy footwork. I watch as she gazes into the skyline like she's waiting for something to happen, the soft brown colour barely visible under the dimmed lighting of my apartment. I think she's aware of my staring, I can practically feel the heat rising in her cheeks from here.