Daddy's innocent girl [h.s]

009

After our little moment in the park, Harry drove me home. He insisted on taking me back to his so he could keep an eye on me, since my mum would be at work, but I refused. I'm sure I can handle myself.

It's strange though. I don't know why but I'm attracted to him, not just his looks, but everything about him. It could never work though, it's clear to me that all he wants is sex from many different girls, and I'm not that kind of girl.

He's a player is what he is.

And he's my boss.

And my mom's landlord.

He's also 6 years older than me.

Wow this is messy.

I push the idea of me and Harry out of my mind whilst I head into work. It's weird being back in this place when it was only yesterday I discovered Harry sleeping with one of the staff. I wonder how many women here he's slept with.

"Morning, Rosalie" Harry greets me as I enter his office.

"Good morning Mr. Styles, and Rose will do" I remind, although I know he will never listen.

Why does he have to call me Rosalie?

As I place my bag down, Harry briefs me on what he wants me to do for him for the day, before telling me to stop whatever I'm doing at 12:30 because there's something we need to do together. I frown at this because he generally leaves me to get on with the tasks by myself, but I don't question it.

I know better than to question Harry nowadays.

Over the next two hours, I find myself logging profit and loss accounts, cash flow forecasts and documenting the business' corporate taxes for the current financial year. I knew all of this would take time, but have you ever imagined how much income and expenditure a financing company has in just a year? Yeah, quite a lot, especially seeing as it's an international company.

On top of that, Harry got three coffee refills, although I was hoping to bump into Liam but he wasn't around. He's the only other colleague who's kind enough to talk to me I guess.

By 12:27, Harry comes rushing in hassling me to put on my coat and grab my bag. I do so with speed before he's ushering me out of the office. He doesn't tell me where we are going, despite my great efforts to get him to spill.

It's a surprise that a limousine is just casually waiting for us outside, although it shouldn't be.

"Couldn't drive yourself?" I ask in a playful manner

"Why should I when I can pay someone to drive me?" He replies nonchalantly, a small smirk creeping onto his face before disappearing completely.

I smile to myself.

He opens the door for me, before I step inside. I've never been inside a limousine before, so I gasped when I saw the leather black seats spanning significant length, a glittery ceiling, small tv monitors and mini-fridge stocked with clearly expensive wine and soft drinks.

"Do you like it?" Harry asks, I nod all starry-eyed

"The perks of being my PA" He chuckles.

"So where are we going" I ask again, whilst the chauffer pulls away from the building

"You'll see" He says, and for the first time, I see him grin, revealing his huge dimples and beautiful smile.

I melt.

After about only 15 minutes in this absolute beauty, the engine comes to a halt. Harry opens the door with ease before I climb out.

It's clear he's taken us some place extremely urban, somewhere in Washington I don't recognise. Probably because I'm not rich enough to be in this neighbourhood, as all retailers in the vicinity are Luxury brands, from the likes of Gucci, Luis Vuitton, to Versace, Valentino and Balenciaga.

But I doubt Harry's taken me here to shop. I know I'm his PA and all but I'm sure he doesn't need help.

Before I know it, Harry clasps my hand, mumbling a 'keep up' as he forces me to pick up the pace.

I look down at my hand in his. It fits so. . . . perfectly, which is surprising considering how huge his hands are compared to mine. The warm feeling of his touch sends tingles through me.

It's not long before I'm snapped back into reality as I feel Harry unlatch his hand from mine. My eyes dart to find the reason and I realise we're inside an extremely fancy restaurant.

Harry's busy mumbling to one of the waiters.

I look around, entranced by the ambient lighting, the beautiful Aztec designs that cover the walls. Lights dangle low from the ceiling like floating baubles. The restaurant doesn't seem busy at all, but I over hear Harry questioning if they got the booking right.

He was persistent that he needed a closed off booth away from . . . prying eyes, wherever they may be.

It dawns on me that Harry made a reservation for us in advance at this restaurant. The very thought makes me blush.

Aren't I lucky?

After a couple more minutes of the waiter fussing about, he leads us to the booth, situated on the upper floor.

Don't tell me Harry booked out the entire floor for this? What could be so important he wants to discuss?

He tells the waiter to bring a bottle of 1974 Cheval Blanc, whatever that is. He knows I'm legally not allowed to drink, right?

Before we can even settle into the booth, the waiter is back with the bottle and two elegantly slim and tall wine glasses. Talk about speedy service, I hope Harry tips well.

He disappears again after leaving two menus for us.

"So, uh. . . why are here?" I decide to question him. I may as well ask now instead of allowing the awkwardness to increase.

"Because I never see you eat" He replies stiffly.

Uh what?

He notices my confused expression and replies "Whenever you're working, you never stop to eat. Sure you have lunch break. But not once have you actually gone out to eat"

"Oh, I wasn't aware you were watching my every movement now" I retort.

"Don't play smart with me Rosalie" He snaps back with a sharp glare.

I gulp under his intimidating stare.

"I eat at home, Mr. Styles" I explain.

"Not good enough, you need three meals a day and most of your shifts last the entire bloody day, not to mention overtime" Harry says as he gracefully slips the cork out of the bottle and pours two glasses.

I look at the deep red wine. Do I remind him I'm 19 or?

Harry's expression turns into a pained one for a brief second before it vanishes. I frown.

He opens his mouth and closes it before saying anything.

It's like he's searching for the right words.

After silently passing me one of the glasses and taking a large sip of his own, he looks me in the eyes and takes a deep breath.

"Or maybe I just want to make it up to you" He mumbles so silently, it takes me a second to register his words.

"For what?" I frown

"You know what. . . " He mutters, immediately breaking eye contact.

Oh.

That.

I mean, I don't have a right to still be mad at him, who he sleeps with is his business.

"Hey" I call out to him softly.

"It's okay"

He nods. We know we don't need to talk more on the subject.

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