'I'll build you a kingdom
In that house on the hill'
*
Last night, Harry and I stayed at Zayn's. I didn't sleep much, neither did he, both of us tossing and turning the entire night as our brains refused to turn off for the evening. Instead, we just laid there in silence. No words spoken. Our own slow breaths melding into a symphony of anxiety, pain and uncertainty. It enveloped our bodies and left a dampness on our skins, moisture filling the bed despite the cool breeze that drifted through the open window. Even as the sun rose a thin layer of sweat sat in my hairline, despite having barely moved all night other than the quick turns to change position.
Harry remained on his back all night, and I would often admire his face and body, my fingers trailing across the details when I faced him. He drifted off at one point, my hand resting on his stomach and head on his chest, just watching the relaxation take over his features. After 30 minutes, he abruptly woke up, gripping onto my fragile body as if I were about to be ripped away. What I saw in his eyes was fear. Genuine terror. I wish I knew what caused it.
Eventually, I left the bed around 6:30 in the morning, taking a long shower until he came to join me. His whole body was tense, the dark circles around his eyes indicating how tired he was feeling. Having already cleaned myself, I paid attention to him, my hands gentle on his body as I tried to massage his muscles enough to relax him. I let them dance along his skin, tracing the outlines of every muscle, indent and scar, the water running over both of us. It was unlike the first time we showered. This wasn't an inherently sexual scenario, both our bodies too exhausted to even consider that.
After a while, he stopped my movements, grabbed my arms, and wrapped his own around me. I didn't say anything, nor did he. We just stood there under the warm stream, holding each other until it felt like enough. I'm not sure how long we stayed like that, but I didn't mind. Something about being so close to Harry like that calmed my mind when all it wanted to do was scream. A rare moment of affection that seemed to be becoming more frequent and normal between us.
It felt right to be like that after what we'd endured yesterday. We hadn't allowed ourselves to unwind in the immediate aftermath, and even as the night sky closed in and we settled down for the evening, our minds still raced as fast as the car did while it weaved through the streets of the capital. Only under that water did we finally comfort each other in the only way our brains could comprehend. Perhaps the only way we needed. It was reassurance of his loyalty to me, to protect me. As long as I have Harry by my side, I know I'll be ok. I have to believe that.
Once we ate, the four of us went to the warehouse, working out some more details in preparation for Louis and Zayn, while I continued working on the diamonds. Niall had allowed me to keep the replica of the Cullinan IX until the heist in a few weeks, so I've been studying it since. Against all the images he provided, and ones I located online, the ring looks real. There's no indication that it's a forgery. Made with real diamonds and cut in a similar way, even I could be fooled by it. Of course, there are some differences there that will never be remedied because of the make-up of the Cullinan, but it's a good effort.
I've cut a few diamonds in my time, something that I was told would be utilised for the bigger plan, so having something like this to study is a gift when refining my skills. Harry had informed me that using cubic zirconia was out of the question for this robbery, as it will be too obvious that it's a fake. What he needs is to distract them long enough to not realise it's been taken so we have the time to escape and not be caught or suspected. It's a genius plan, expensive too, but I don't worry about their finances. The amount they've stolen over the years is enough to feed entire towns for a lifetime.
The rest of the team are scattered around the room. Zayn is working on the frame near the front that's now almost completed, something I've come to realise is a set of the Crown Jewels room at the Tower. Babz works nearby, handing him tools when looking over her own notes and research. George and Louis are sat on the opposite side of the building to me, whispering to each other while they work on some computers. Harry is sat up in his office. Every now and again I look up and feel him watching me, my cheeks blushing instantly. It all seems domesticated, each of us going about our daily tasks in unison. It almost makes me forget about what happened yesterday.
I'd tried to contact Joe in the evening, and again this morning, but he never answered. He's probably still in shock. Hopefully Harry and I can stop by quickly on our way back to the northern side of the river later. I just need peace of mind that he hasn't been harmed any further. While I'm still unsure what his part was in helping Hugo, I know he had no choice. Babz said it herself, most rarely do when it comes to that man. I suppose a part of me will always feel bitter about it, but I know I can't hold it against him. For all I know, Hugo could have threatened his family, his livelihood, his friends. There are so many possibilities, and I'm trying to keep an open mind. If I don't, I'll start spiralling.
I'm lucky in that George managed to find the research done on the Cullinan by I. J. Asscher & Co before the original diamond was cut. Documents that have been kept away from the public to sustain the security of the diamond and ensure no forgeries were made. If only they knew how easy it is to hack into systems and databases these days.
Asscher spent six months studying the diamond before even making the first cut, despite being renowned as the most skilled diamond cutter in the world. The raw diamond had to be examined thoroughly under magnification first in order to determine the most logical way to cut it. If cut wrong, specifically in an area with an inclusion, the cutters could be gambling with the quality of the stone and thus would fall responsible for the financial fallout of it. On the first attempt, his blade broke, but on the second try he managed it. It was decided that the diamond would be cut into three sections due to the inclusions inside the massive stone, before cutting each part into smaller pieces.
These notes are common knowledge, but what George sourced me is far greater. Personal diaries, sketches, calculations. Everything needed to determine the shape and size of each set and the technique needed for it. Without it, I'd probably struggle to make something as good as the original, or even the replica in front of me. It wouldn't surprise me if the person that made it had found access to the same set of notes to make it. The images that Niall took, while helpful, can only aid us to a certain extent. When we have the real Cullinan IX in our possession then I'll have everything I need.
The sound of footsteps makes me lose focus on my research, tilting my head up to see Harry walking towards me. His face is stern, but once my eyes meet his, a small smile rests on his lips. He takes long strides to meet me and never takes his gaze away. When he arrives at my workstation, he pulls up a stool and sits closely next to me, our legs resting against each other's. He fumbles with some of the papers I've been reading, flipping through my notes and looking over at the ring in my hand. I turn it around to inspect some more, but all I can focus on is how the heat of his body radiates into mine. It's distracting, but in the best way.
Harry leans over and plucks the ring from my grasp, bringing it closer to his eyes as if he knows what to look for. Though he's seen what I've been working on over the weeks, he clearly has no idea what any of it means. I laugh at the attempt, a small sigh escaping my lips when I notice how gentle he's being with it.
Slowly, he takes my hand, lifting it in front of us, before sliding the ring onto my middle finger. He stares at it for a while then drops his hold, looking back at me while I keep my gaze locked on the diamond. It's heavy, as expected, but knowing the importance of this piece only adds to the weight of it.
'I want you to teach me about these things,' he asks in a playful tone.
I look back up to him, sliding the ring off in the process. He looks intrigued. Genuinely serious in his request. The perfect student. 'I'll make a deal with you,' I say. His eyebrows perk up at the assertion, teeth exposed in a grin. 'I'll teach you if you teach me the plan for the big heist.'
In my mind, it's a fair deal. I've been informed of a few details here and there but when it comes down to the specifics I still know so little. I'm so invested in this operation now that I want to be involved in everything.
He ponders the question for a moment before his hand comes out, ready to shake mine. I slip my hand into his immediately, his grip tightening. 'Deal.'
The ring is placed down carefully on the surface. I keep my eyes on it for another moment then turn to face him on the stool. The smile is still present on his face which only makes my own lips curl up. It's cheeky in a way, like we're about to play a game that would get us in trouble with our parents. The best kind of games to play with Harry, I've come to realise.
Our knees touch, the small contact making me lose my focus for a few seconds, but when I look back up to him I nod to show I'm ready to hear what he has to say. 'Well, you know that we want replicas of all the stones,' he questions; I nod again. 'Once we're inside the room, the plan is to pull out the originals from their settings and replace them one by one. If all goes to plan, when we leave they'll have no idea they've been stolen. Hopefully we'll get out before they even notice someone has broken in,' he tells me, his hand placed on my thigh.
'Surely it will cost a fortune to get all those diamonds cut, though. You can't just go with cheap ones?' I ask, eyebrows furrowed.
He smirks at this while pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. This is a habit he does a lot, but I think he's increased it as of late because he knows how much I enjoy watching it. Every time he does it I imagine my own teeth pulling at his lips, sucking on them until they're swollen before we start to kiss every inch of each other's bodies. I need to relax.
As if he knows the mental battle I'm having, he squeezes my thigh, bringing my attention back to him. I cough at the interruption, already feeling the warmth enter my cheeks. 'Well, thankfully Hugo's money still on hand to help. What a kind gentleman he is for allowing us to steal it,' he jokes, hand now rubbing small circles on my knee.
My breath catches in my throat when it starts to go higher, feeling the pressure of his fingers perfectly through the thin material of my culottes. 'Yes, not at all a maniac,' I whisper. Instinctively, my own hand moves to his leg, mimicking his movements until I get the same reaction out of him. Aware of the people around us, I move closer to his ear, taking him off guard enough to ask another question that I know will diffuse the energy around us. 'Why did you steal his money?'
He instantly pulls back in a huff, smoothing his hair back out of his face. I smile at him but know how little he wants to answer this question. The few times I have in the past he's either avoided it or remained vague. The last piece of information I received, he told me he did it to help those he cares about escape. But who?
I hear him sigh, but his lips purse as he readies to speak. To be honest, I didn't expect him to actually tell me, I just wanted him to stop touching me like that in a room full of people. 'I stole it for Santine,' he begins. I immediately still, unsure of what he's about to tell me. He's never spoken to me about Santine. 'We were going to run away and start a life together, away from Hugo, just us in our own little bubble where we could finally be free.'
It's the last thing I expected him to reveal, but what could I have expected when I know so little about his life? Still, I appreciate his attempt to open up to me, taking the much needed baby steps for us to fully trust each other in the way we want. I feel much closer to Harry these days, but there's only so much that sex can do for that. It's conversations like this that will help us bond. I want that for us, to be able to rely on each other. I get the feeling he's always been the pillar for everyone else while he's faced everything alone.
'She didn't go through with it, though, did she?' I question, voice only audible for him to hear.
He shakes his head, eyes scanning the room to make sure no one is near. 'No, she got too scared. Her father is a powerful man.' He scoots slightly closer, his chair screeching against the cold concrete floors. His legs push mine open so his can rest in between. 'I still had use for the money, so I went ahead.' His hand reaches out to push some of my hair behind my ear, a gesture I've grown so fond of during these past few months. He's always the first to touch. 'This world, this operation, the work I do. It's my whole life. But I lived differently before it and there are people that I want to look after. The world is cruel, if I can relieve the burden then I will.'
My head tilts slightly, melting into his touch. His palm is now on my cheek, thumb drawing small circles across the skin. I almost forget that we're not alone. When I look into the forest of his eyes I lose myself entirely. I run through the trees, smelling his scent on me, while he follows behind. 'So, did she tell her father about it?' It would make sense, but he always said he didn't know who revealed him as the thief.
'No, she wouldn't dare. She'd end up implicating herself in it, or he'd figure it out. Even though Santine is his daughter, no one is safe from his wrath. It's ridiculous, but he's been allowed to get away with it for so long that I doubt he'll ever stop,' he informs me. It's said so nonchalantly, as if the admission isn't alarming. As if it's completely normal for a woman to be terrified of her father. Part of me sympathises with her. 'No, don't feel sorry for her. She's an absolute bitch. Not to be trusted.'
I sigh, smiling a little but still feeling a pit in my stomach. 'So, who could it be then?'
His hand pulls back from my face, resting on my leg again but it doesn't move, just remains stationary. Even that is enough to quicken my pulse. 'Still haven't figured that out. It's either a confidant of Santine's, or, and this is the worst case scenario, someone here.' The thought of it worries me. I already have so much paranoia about the people around me, I don't need that to be made worse by a potential mole in the team. 'I like to think they wouldn't do that, but I suppose you can never be sure.'
My mind starts to jump from person to person, considering each indivudal in the room. Zayn is far too loyal to do something like that. It's been made clear that he's stuck by Harry most of his life, they're practically brothers. Though I don't know what it's like to have siblings, I know that bond is a hard one to break. Family is not just based on blood, it's love. Because of that Babz wouldn't dream of going against Harry. Anything Zayn does, she follows, and she told me herself how much she cares about Harry. I don't know Louis well, and he keeps to himself a lot more than the rest, but I've never been given a reason to doubt his loyalty. He joined the team when they were younger, just starting out; again, he is like a brother to Harry. George, well he's far too innocent. Besides, he worships the ground Harry walks on. The only other person in the core team is Niall, but I'm not even sure he was involved in that theft since he only joins them on their operations every now and again. It's likely to be someone in the wider team, but who?
'What will you do to them if you find out it's someone here?' I continue.
His eyes shift down for a second while he focuses on my leg, but I notice his jaw clench at the question. This is something he's thought about for a long time. 'I value honesty and allegiance. I'm loyal to everyone in this room. The day I asked them to be a part of this team, I made a vow to protect them. Just like you.' His eyes move back up to mine, reassuring me of my safety with him. Something I no longer doubt. Even through the chaos of yesterday I knew I could rely on him. The way his whole body shielded mine with each bullet, risking his own life for mine, was evidence of it. 'If someone in the team did this, I'll make them pay in ways they wish didn't exist.'
My breath catches in my throat at the seriousness of his tone. Although I haven't had much experience of Harry's ability to inflict harm, I know he's capable. He told me in confidence that he's personally responsible for 27 deaths. Lives lost at his hands. It should frighten me, but the reality is the opposite, which only makes me a fool.
I've placed so much blind faith in this man, who has revealed so little to me, yet I feel closer to him with each passing day. When he is not there, it's like the room is empty. Even in crowded halls I feel alone. I search for him until I spot him, and when I do not my mission continues until I've found my target. There's such an inexplicable magnetic pull between us. I'm not sure I would be able to fight it if I even wanted to.
I know he's not perfect; he never claimed to be. But neither am I.
His palm starts stroking up and down my leg again, breaking my thoughts. 'Atlas, they put you in danger. I'll never forgive them for that,' he tells me. His eyes are trained to mine, refusing to look away even as his hand moves higher again.
This time I let it, appreciating the feel of it. He's so gentle with his touch, yet sensual at the same time. The slow movements cause goose bumps to erupt on my skin, even though it has yet to attach to it. Only the fabric gets to feel him, but the friction it creates on my thigh only spurs me on. My eyes feather shut, just embracing how much I enjoy his touch.
With the confirmation of my pleasure, he moves his hand further, fingers dancing along the inner part. They grace it so lightly, drawing patterns across the area while I try to steady my breathing. Every caress makes my mind fall deeper into an abyss I fear I'll never escape, but as the days go on I'm starting to realise I don't want to. I want to be stuck in this messy, but pleasant, daydream with him for as long as I can, ignoring the troubles that face us outside of it. In here, in this bubble, we remain protected, safe. No one can hurt us until we step outside. With Harry, the way that he adorns my body only sends me further into a spiral. Spinning and spinning like a carousel.
I open my eyes, focusing on his that have diluted so much his pupils almost encompass the entire iris. That green that I've become so accustomed to has disappeared, only darkness present, but it's not evil or malignant. The look in his eyes is one of desire, lust, greed. One I'm sure is mirrored in my own.
Instinctively, I reach out and place my palm on his leg, recalling the same movements he used on mine. I take my time as I trail it up his thigh, noticing the way his breath hitches in his throat the higher it gets. It's a game of teasing, seeing who can get a rise out of the other first, but at the same time it's a way for us to communicate just how much we value each other. And I do, I value him more than I ever thought.
For the longest time I despised him and everything he represented. The suffering he's brought me. The anxiety and stress. But he's not entirely to blame here, because I accepted. I made the decision that day to work with him, because I suppose I never really could say no. He's always said the right things, and maybe that was a manipulation tactic, but I've never doubted his words. These days, I'm more certain of them than ever. He's put his life on the line for me multiple times, despite only knowing me for a short time. And I've put my faith in him. Something I will continue to do.
His hand reaches a sensitive area, lightly gracing his fingers over the fabric of my trousers and underwear and watching as my shoulders tense. A small smile cracks over his lips, a look of satisfaction that he's won. Suddenly, I bring my own hand to his groin, palming him through his jeans. He moans, covering his mouth to try and silence it. A few people turn to us at the sound, my own laughs drowning up his heavy breathing.
'You just love to piss me off, don't you?' he grunts, putting more pressure over my core.
I mimic his grip over him, feeling how hard he's becoming with every passing second I remain like this. 'It's my favourite thing to do,' I tease, beginning to rub him. The friction I create with his clothes only makes him act up more. I watch as his free hand grips the table, thankful that the workstation is drilled to the floor with a large section in the middle so no one can see what we're doing.
People around us busy themselves with menial tasks, while we fondle under a table like school kids. The first time a boy felt me up was in a science lesson when I was 16. A boy called Jacob rubbed my leg under the table while we sat together for a project, and I decided to do the same to him, even though I wasn't entirely sure what it would lead to. Nothing major happened, but the thought popping into my head only makes me giggle, causing Harry to stop his movements.
'Are you ticklish down there or something?' he asks, eyebrows knitted together as he watches me bite my lip.
I shake my head recalling the memory. Simpler times. Before everything turned to shit. 'No, I just remembered something, that's all,' I tell him, adjusting my hand on his crotch so I have a better angle now that he's caught off guard.
A moan gets caught in his throat, eyes closing at the feeling. It only encourages him to do the same to me. 'Thinking of someone else's hands while I touch you? I'm offended,' he whispers, leaning closer to my ear so he can nip at my earlobe. I'm thankful that I haven't got any earrings in today. 'We can rectify that.'
His hand trails up to my waistband, pulling at it so it snaps against my skin. I jolt at the impact, trying to pull back but he uses his other hand to steady me. Not allowing me a second to recover, his hand dips into the fabric, halting over my underwear. If I want to do the same to him, I'll have more of a chore with the belt buckle and jean buttons. He has an advantage now.
He lightly taps against the lace, hitting the exact spot that sends me into overdrive. To his dismay, with every teasing movement against my collection of nerves, my grip on him gets tighter. The fact that we're in a crowded room only makes this all the more exciting, though. Any second someone could catch onto what we're doing. Usually I'd be against this, but right now I'm enjoying the distraction it gives me from my wary mind.
An idea pops into my head, something that I'm sure he'd rather not admit he wants. It will be the only time I willingly say it, but if it gets a rise out him then I don't mind. I lean closer to him, his own touch now adding more pressure at the new angle, my movements halting for a second. I gather myself, rubbing him slightly harder now, but keeping my pace slow. My mouth comes closer to his ear, and I find the courage to say it. 'Just like that, daddy.'
His eyes go wide, body freezing. I bite my lip, knowing exactly what I've done, looking down into his eyes one last time. Before pulling back I take one more opportunity to make him squirm, tapping my hand over his cock through the clothing. As I do, his own hand lurches out of my trousers, feet pushing his stool back.
In the commotion, items from the table fall to the floor, everyone in the room now watching us. My thunderous laughs bounce around, watching Harry's flustered body almost fall off the chair. I bend over in fits of giggles, Harry scrambling around to pick up what fell around us, ignoring my gaze.
Something that was so tense, so insatiable, turned into a joke. Though I enjoy our moments of intimacy, being able to joke with him like this, to actually smile, it warms my heart in a way. It's child-like, almost, forgetting the stress of our lives for a few minutes.
Louis perks up on the other side of the room, George whispering into his ear with a smile. 'You guys alright?' he calls out.
'Perfect!' I answer, jumping off the stool to help Harry collect my belongings. I nudge him slightly with my elbow when on the floor, trying to mock him some more. He rolls his eyes, pushing some of the materials towards me as he stands to his feet.
I follow his actions, smoothing my outfit down. There's still a dull ache at my centre, craving his touch again, but I'd rather it be away from prying eyes this time. His eyes watch me, a grin on his face. Even his dimples make an appearance, a sight I've seen so rarely but always enjoy. It's a cute feature, almost makes you forget that he's a criminal.
Harry hands me my phone once I've placed everything down on the surface. There's a small crack in the screen, and he mumbles his apologies for it, but I don't hear them. When I look at the device in my hand, it isn't the damage that I notice. No, it's the multiple missed calls and texts from Joe.
I immediately start scrolling through them, his texts hasty. Only one word messages or urgent pleas. Help. Please. There's not much time. I'm sorry. Every single one is a desperate call for assistance, to what I'm unsure of, but the last one is what makes my entire blood run cold, body freezing.
They've found me.
I go to dial his number, but as it rings and rings, I'm met with no answer. Just the dormant sounds of dialling. I try five more times, my nails bitten down to their beds as I try to convince myself that all is well, and I don't need to worry.
Harry looks at me in worry, hands on both my shoulders. 'What is it?'
The phone finally goes to voicemail again. Hi, this is Joe. If I'm not answering I'm probably with my wonderful girlfriend, Atlas. I'll get back to you as soon as I can. He recorded that message a year into dating. I wasn't aware he hadn't changed it.
I pull the phone back, staring at it in my hand. I swallow a sharp breath, understanding what this means. 'It's Joe. Hugo's gone after him.'
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A/N: I've given my friends hints about chapter 40. I wonder if you guessed it too.
Thanks for the love :) Happy 1 Year to Walls!