Vorfreude

Chapter 42

"I bought this house in completely secrecy years ago," Harry's voice charms as we walk down the wood panel hallways. Large rooms full of elegant décor blur my eye sight. Branded materials decorate the upholstery on multiple couches and tapestry cloths dances along the walls. All of it has been custom made, but I shouldn't be shocked.

"It was hard to stay out of public eye when I first became discovered," he adds, letting me in on a small snip of his start to fame. If only he knew I was one of those prestigious girls who lived to see where he was and what he was doing back then. Teenage me died the first time he was set up with Taylor Swift along with that one time he was seen puking on the side of the road. Teenage Harry was nothing like teenage Kat.

What can I say? I didn't choose the fangirl life, the fangirl life chose me.

His fingers tighten around my grip, bringing me to focus my attention on him and exactly where his body is. I pause as his hip brushes against mine before he steps in front of me. "Not that I wasn't brain washed by it," he jokes. A light chuckle eradicates through his chest. "Nonetheless, after all of these years, I've never convinced myself to sell it therefore it is my runaway home."

"It's stunning," I say, taking my eyes back off of him and to our whereabouts. He moves us  through three more rooms and up a pleated staircase that leads to a very large, very open floor plan kitchen.

The moment he drops my hand is the moment I devote my full attention to him instead of his glorious house. I do have to say it's the biggest house I've ever been inside, but nothing could compare to the undivided attention of Harry.

"Are you hungry? I'll have Annabelle make us lunch. I was thinking Rigatoni? No mushrooms though, of course."

Looking up to him, he has a small smirk apparent on his lips.

"Oh? Are you sure that wasn't your plan all along? Bring me to a house in the middle of nowhere and feed me Rigatoni with mushrooms to kill me because you're already tired of me?"

I take a seat at the small island bar as he walks around to the large stainless steel fridge.

"You've caught on to my plan."

I laugh and he chuckles.

"That sounds lovely," I say in admiration.

"Rizzoli or death?" he asks, turning his head just a little, charm plastered across his sculptured face.

"Maybe both?" I say, raising my eyebrow to be cautious.

He turns around with orange juice in one hand and a champagne bottle in the other, shutting the large refrigerator door with his foot. He looks so adolescent in the moment that it warms my insides. A carefree Harry is something the whole world thinks they've seen, but actually haven't because the fire in his eyes is one I'm not sure anyone has ever seen before. A long piece of his tasseled hair falls into his eyes and I'm left in awe. How can a man be so flawless yet so realistic?

"Lovely," he winks, setting them both down in front of me and pulling two glasses out from the cabinet below him.

"Up for a mimosa in the meantime?"

A part of me considers telling him no for the hell of it, but I decide against it. I'm kinda totally falling in love with the concept of mimosas. Who knew I'd actually like drinking alcohol?

Anthony did...

I should call him. I'm not lying when I say I miss him. It might not seem like it, but it's true. I want to believe we're okay, but there's a part of my subconscious that's telling me otherwise.

I should call Oliver too. He doesn't even know where I am and I'm sure that's some kind of crime considering he's the person who's hired to know where I am and who I'm with 24/7.

I nod and Harry pours my glass.

And another..

And another...

Shortly after finishing four mimosa's, eating lord know what kind of healthy junk food he's had stashed in the cabinet's and devouring a large helping of Rigatoni that Annabelle made, Harry and I giggle our way through rooms and rooms of his extravagant house. Him teaching me all sorts of antique history that hang on the walls and fill the cabinets. I never knew Harry was someone who appreciated the world in its own concept.

"I have something to show you," he tells me, pulling me up from our spot on the dark blue Gucci couch in his sitting room. He walks us back to the kitchen, refilling our drinks once more then we walk down a sculptured hallway and up another flight of stairs.

At the end of the long hall, there's a red door. Everything else is left white.

My heart drops.

"You might not like it, but I have a feeling you and I are into the same things," he adds.

I've read lots of BDSM books and seen movies like 5o shades and Submissive multiple times in my life. Never once could I have expected this until it's looking right at me. Is it what I'm expecting?

"It's through here," Harry says, interlocking our fingers and pushing down on the handle with the other. His mimosa drips a tiny bit on the floor and I giggle more because I don't know if i'm nervous for what awaits me or the fact that we're both a little bit tipsy.

"Um," I mutter suddenly second guessing all of my recent decisions.

Harry's body pushes through the door and I brace myself for what I'm about to see.

The air leaves leaves my lungs as the motion light detects us and shines on the entire rooms collections.

I'm surrounded by thousands of novels...

And then some.

Who is Harry Styles?