Wednesday hadn't been that bad, and I knew it was because I had gone in later than normal, but Thursday had been annoying. The models working were overly needy. I knew it was in my job description to make them happy, but they were close to being downright rude to me. Sure, I had dealt with models that hadn't been kind to me in the past, but this had been something completely different.
Tucking my hair behind my ear, I felt like today was pretty pointless. There wasn't much for me to do, and I knew it was because Friday's were used to try and catch up or sort the work that hasn't been completed during the week. Usually, Mrs. Woods was booked with finishing up things people hadn't quite completed, but this week was a little different. By the time it hit noon, she was finished with just about everything, and I was surprised by that entirely.
"So, darling, do you have plans for lunch?"
"I don't, why?"
"We should have lunch together," she told me. "Come on, it would be fun!"
Nodding, I grabbed my things, Mrs. Woods making a call downstairs before she had her things collected. The two of us rode in the elevator together, and I watched as she fixed her makeup. She used her phone, making sure that her makeup hadn't smudged in any places. Once we reached the ground floor, she had also reapplied lipstick, the two of us making our way outside. I said hello to Samuel, and he waved to both of us, Mrs. Woods and I getting into the company car. Someone was in the front seat, leaving the two of us to get buckled in the back seat. I watched as she texted someone, leaving me to check my own phone. Normally, there were just messages from my group chat with the boys, but there was a message from Oliver, my cheeks burning suddenly as I opened my phone to check the message.
Oliver: Hey! Do u want to go to dinner tonight? I can pick u up around seven if that works?
Sure! That sounds good. Are we going somewhere fancy?
Oliver: We can go wherever u would like
Um, I don't know. I've been in a skirt all day, so somewhere I could wear jeans would be amazing
Oliver: Haha ok, sure
Oliver: I have a great place in mind, Finley. See u tonight!
See you tonight (:
When I glanced over at Mrs. Woods, she was staring at me, raising her eyebrows as a small smirk graced her features. I could tell she wanted me to spill, and I felt very flustered at the idea of telling her that I was going to be going on a date tonight. She was someone who wouldn't let up if she didn't get what she wanted, and while that was great for her job, it might not have been that great in this sense. After all, I was usually embarrassed when it came to men in general, especially since I hadn't exactly tried the whole dating scene for a while.
"What?"
"You know exactly what," she grinned. "Spill. Tell me everything."
I was hesitant. After all, Mrs. Woods could occasionally get carried away with her excitement. But, I also knew it was because we had gotten rather close over the last year and a half. She knew a lot of my personal stuff and I knew a lot of hers. It was only right that we each got excited over things for one another. However, considering that I wasn't sure how this was going to go, I was definitely indecisive about how much I should tell her.
"Uh, I kind of might see someone tonight," I timidly told her.
"That's great! Are they nice? Do you know how old they are?"
She was already asking way more questions than I had anticipated. It left me somewhat anxious now, though I knew she was simply excited because I never went out with anyone in the year and a half she had known me. So, this was clearly a big step for me and she was obviously more thrilled than I could have imagined.
"He is nice. I think he is older than me by only a year or so. I didn't ask him his age, though."
She clapped her hands together, grinning at me before she began to tell me about places around town that she enjoyed eating. It was kind of her, but I was ninety percent sure that all of them were probably way over my price range. She was the one making the big bucks, after all, and while I would have loved to eat at a five star restaurant, I knew it simply was not in the price range.
It was maybe another ten minutes before we reached our destination, the two of us getting out of the car after we both had thanked the driver. Mrs. Woods and I headed up to the restaurant, the two of us walking up to the hostess table. It was clear the place was very busy, but we didn't have to wait for a table, the hostess bringing us to a table all the way in the back. While I didn't necessarily mind waiting for a table, it was nice to sometimes have this kind of power, per say. Or, to be associated with people who had this kind of pull.
"So," she began once we had a seat and the hostess had walked away. "You never told me about the other night. I got a call from Mr. Styles saying he was going to, what was it? Pay the difference of your hours that you missed."
"Oh, that," I smiled awkwardly, not realizing I was going to be grilled. "It was nothing. I told him not to."
"But then why did Mr. Styles call me?" she asked, clearly interested in the situation that wasn't even a situation in my eyes. "He doesn't usually do that. Did you see him?"
"I did," I nodded, shrugging. "It was honestly nothing."
If nothing meant that he carried me home, and helped me change, and stayed in my bed until I fell asleep, then it was definitely nothing. I hadn't seen Harry since the other night, and while I wasn't necessarily complaining, I also wanted to know whether or not he was going to be rude when I saw him again or if he was going to be a decent human. However, we had briefly spoken about it, and I was pretty sure that he was not going to be that great when we saw one another again. After all, there was no reason for us to be friendly to one another. He was a model and I was simply an assistant.
"You know, you can tell me the truth," she told me. "I wouldn't tell a soul. My lips are sealed."
Mrs. Woods went out of the way to zip her lips and throw the key away. It was amusing to watch, especially since the last time I had seen anyone do that I had probably been in high school, if not earlier. Of course, I also was amused simply because she was making such a big effort for a story that didn't even really exist. Harry had simply wanted to make sure that even though I was wasted, I would have made it home safely. He had no other intentions, and nothing else had even happened. So, Mrs. Woods had nothing to zip her lips for, realistically.
"I know that you would never tell, but I also know that nothing happened between us. I swear to you."
She shrugged, and I could tell that she didn't believe me. As I had said before, though, I didn't think the minor details were worth telling her. Plus, just the other day she had hinted at her and Harry having some sort of a past, but she hadn't elaborated on what kind of last that was. I didn't really think that was very fair, but I simply brushed the thought off, ordering a water when the waitress came over while Mrs. Woods asked for a white wine.
We went through lunch discussing business, and I was thankful for the change in subject. Not that I had cared that we were talking about Harry, but I definitely was having a more enjoyable time when we weren't. After lunch, we headed out. Since there was a lot of traffic, and the building was only about four blocks away, we decided to walk back to work instead of taking a car. It was probably a better idea anyway, and I knew it was because it would have taken twice as long for the car to get here and to take us back as it would for us to simply travel there by foot.
The two of us chatted about the party she had invited me to on the way back, and Mrs. Woods said she was very excited for it. I told her I was thinking about bringing Oliver with me, and she told me that I could do whatever I wanted, but once again, I almost felt as if her tone was suggesting that I should go alone. Brushing the thought off, I waved to Samuel as we headed inside, my body tensing up the moment I heard someone utter the familiar pet name I had come accustomed to recently.
"Neonata."
The name caused me to stop in my track, Mrs. Woods raising her eyebrows as she glanced at me, and then at the man who was now approaching us. He was wearing a stunning suit, the material a velvet blue, and his shirt a cream color. He could honestly pull anything off, and it kind of pissed me off, but I just stared at him, watching as he glanced at Mrs. Woods.
"Excuse us," he stated, taking my wrist in his grasp. "She'll be yours in ten."
"I can just—" she started.
"No," he affirmed.
Mrs. Woods swallowed hard, pressing the button to go up on the elevator. It made me slightly worried, and I already knew she would be speaking to me about my encounter with Harry the moment I went back up to her office. However, Harry led me out of the atrium, and down the hall, pushing open a conference room door. I was being dragged behind him, watching as he shut the door, and then threw his journal onto the table.
"What did you want?" I asked, irritated.
"Voglio che tu succhi il mio cazzo, ma so che non può succedere." (I want you to suck my dick, but I know that can't happen.)
"I still don't speak that much Italian."
He nodded. "Have you ever had a boyfriend?"
"That's kind of a weird question," I stated, gulping as I stared at him. "I don't feel like you should be asking—"
"Answer the fucking question."
"Y-Yes," I nodded, his anger obvious as he stared at me. "Why?"
"I know you don't like me—"
It made me laugh. "Don't like you? You're the one who hates me!"
He rolled his eyes. "Don't interrupt me. I need you to answer this as a friend."
"Oh, we're friends now?" I scoffed. "In your dreams, Styles."
"Amato, I'm not kidding," he grumbled. "I just need advice and you make the best sense to ask. Did you ever suck your boyfriend off?"
"Oh my God!" I whined. "I might be twenty-two, but this conversation is insane."
He glanced over me, green eyes clearly assessing me quickly. I knew that he was probably thinking of some comeback to say, thought he was impeccably quiet for longer than I would have imagined. Especially for a man who always appeared as though he wanted to drag me down.
"I'm going to assume by your 'Oh my God!' that you did indeed do what I asked with him at some point. Which, in my case is perfect. I just, as mio amico, would you do that for him anytime he asked, or did you ever say no to him?" (My friend.)
I stared at him for a long moment. This conversation was invasive of my personal life with someone who I barely kept in contact with. Not to mention that he had turned into an inquisitive person about something that I was basically a novice at in the past, and certainly still would be. Plus, he kept saying we were friends, but I knew that was so he could get the answer to his question out of me. Though, I continued to simply stare at him, completely silent.
"What do you want? Context?" he groaned, running his fingers through his hair and holding it back out of his face but then quickly allowing all of the hair fall back into place. "The woman I'm basically seeing said she didn't want to suck my dick, and I am so fucking pissed off because of it. I'm Harry fucking Styles, and she said no. Who does that?"
I continued to stare at him. He had no real world experience, clearly. The fact that he thought just because he was famous, every single woman was going to give him exactly what he wanted was insane to me. For example, if he asked me to do something like that, I would be fully appalled even though he was apparently some super famous man. Though, I had no idea what the woman he was dating was like. Maybe most women would fall to his feet, but a couple of them certainly would not.
"Will you just say something?" he asked loudly. "I am asking for advice and you're staring at me!"
"Okay, first off, I wouldn't suck your dick because, well, you're a dick."
Without a second of hesitation, he was in front of me, his hand grasping a handful of my hair. It took him only a moment to tilt my head back so that I was looking up at him now. I knew he was upset with me, his eyes dark, and the grimace on his face giving it all away. My breathing picked up, and while I had recalled calling him a dick the other night, and he had done nothing, he was certainly living up to the expectation I had anticipated. Breathing deeply, I shut my eyes, trying to control myself before opening them again.
"Chiamami un cazzo, neonata, guarda cosa succede." (Call me a dick, see what happens.)
I had no clue what he had said to me, but I went against my better judgment when I chose what to say to him.
"Maybe if you weren't such a dick, she'd want to suck yours."
It wasn't smart at all. I could tell he was addressing me with whatever he had just said, but I knew that if I wasn't scared—or acted like I wasn't anyway—he couldn't hurt me. He wouldn't be as controlling over me. However, I scoffed when he held my hair in his grasp tighter, my face burning the moment he walked with me toward the table, the back of my thighs hitting the tabletop. I swallowed hard, my skirt riding up when he managed to get me to sit on the table, his hand still clinging to my hair. Meanwhile, the free one rested on one of my thigh, his eyes dark as he gazed over me briefly.
"You have some guts," he stated. "Lucky for you, I'm not looking to get any sexual harassment charges filed against me, or you better believe you would be on your knees, and I'd be fucking your mouth right now."
The words made me tense, and while he was a beautiful man, that was not something I wanted to do, ever. The very idea of being in that position with him was almost comical in the sense that it would never happen, and that I was definitely not someone who was supposed to be with a model in any way. Even this contact, the two of us being this close, was something that seemed very surreal. Grabbing his hand off of my thigh, I set it on the table, green eyes watching me intently. He tilted his head slightly when I reached behind me, wrapping my hand around his wrist, and pulling his hand from my hair. The two of us stared at one another for a moment, my face burning when the door was quickly opened, a group of men and women appearing surprised.
"Shit, I'm going to get fired," I stated.
"You won't," he told me, pulling back so he was still blocking me, but facing the group. "Find a different one, this is occupied."
"We have it for—"
"Find another fucking room. What about that do you not understand? If you all still want your jobs, get out."
They all quickly exited, the door shutting. It left Harry and I alone again, my face continuing to burn red as I avoided his eyes. Clearly, he had a lot of power in this company, but I couldn't tell if it was actually him, or the fact that he was extremely intimidating. My breathing picked up again when he rested his hands on either side of my thighs, Harry leaning in to the point that I felt like I had zero personal space.
"Ti farei così bene, neonata, cambierebbe la tua vita." (I would do you so well, baby girl, it would change your life.)
"I think you should get away from me."
"Oh, why?" he asked softly, his voice full of mischief. "Neonata, I wouldn't hurt you."
"I'm not worried about you hurting me," I assured him. "I-I have to get back to work."
"No need to rush," he stated. "You never really answered me. Did you suck him off whenever he asked?"
"I, uh ... not every time."
"Fuck."
"What?" I asked. "She can say no."
"I know that she can say no. I might be rude to you, but I'm not a complete piece of shit."
Shrugging, I tucked my hair behind my ear, confused by our current situation. It was clear he was not being very polite toward me—if he had been at all—yet he was also standing in front of me as if there were some sort of decent relationship between us. Taking a deep breath, I went to get up, my face reddening when I brushed up against him because I thought he was further away. Harry was not pleased with the move, and I was staring up at him with wide eyes, his darker ones staring down at me.
"You have to be fucking kidding."
"I-I just need to get back to my job," I murmured.
"Don't tell her about anything that happened. I know how she is, and she is very persistent, but tell her that I told you not to say anything, do you understand, neonata?"
"Yes."
"Good," he nodded, letting me slip by him and head toward the door, but I knew it was too good to be true when he started speaking again. "Neonata?"
"Yes?"
There was a long pause, and I honestly had no idea what he was going to say to me. The thoughts were varied, and I knew it could range between something in Italian, to something very perverted in English. Raising my eyebrows as I looked at him, he was clearly thinking about what exactly he wanted to say to me, green eyes focused on anything but me before he seemed to only look at me, a question leaving his lips not much later.
"When was the last time that you had a boyfriend?"
"Uhhhh," I started. "I was eighteen."
"What?"
"Yeah. It's embarrassing, goodbye. I have a date tonight, so it's fine."
"A date?" he asked.
"Goodbye, Harry."
"Suck his dick, Amato!" he called after me.
I groaned, and while he was annoying, I could tell he was simply making a joke. Rolling my eyes at the thought of him trying to be playful, I headed upstairs, hoping that Mrs. Woods wasn't too inquisitive when it came to my confrontation with Harry. After all, it was a little more information about him that I was willing to hear, but I simply tried to ignore the words, wanting to push all of them out of my mind. He was definitely someone that was too much, and while that wasn't always bad, it was not something I wanted to deal with. Even if he could, on occasion, be an off brand of kind