Elaina Basset
Rose. His mother's name was Rose.
Never in a million lifetimes would I have expected an admittance like that to leave the lips of Harry Styles. I was stunned.
His mom, she was murdered.
Looking at him now, he seems sort of put off. I don't think he expected to tell me this either, and now he's unsure of what to do because he can't read my reaction.
"Do you know who killed her?" I ask.
His eyes shift away, a hand running through his hair as he just shakes his head in no.
"I'm gonna find out one day, though." he says. "I have to."
I just look at him. He had this glint of hope in his voice when he said that, and in that moment I knew that this was something that's been eating at him—not knowing his mother's killer.
And in a way, I can relate to him...because I don't know who attacked my family that fateful night. They had masks on, and I never found out what became of them.
"I hope you do." my voice beckons out of honesty, making his eyes fall back into mine.
Green irises in my direction, he knows that telling me this information meant that he was being vulnerable, even just for a moment.
And he did it because I was vulnerable too.
I don't think he realizes how much it helped. Or maybe he does. Because maybe he's hurting just as much from an unresolved past.
Maybe...maybe we aren't so different, Dreamboat.
"You...you said you write to your mother..." he says, "did you start doing that after she died?"
I look down as an instinctive reaction to the question, biting my cheek.
"You don't have to answer. Sorry." he then reiterates, noticing how I didn't answer straight away. He thinks he's gone too far.
He said sorry.
I shake my head. "No, it's okay." I look forward out the windshield.
Everyone outside this car is just going about their day. They don't know anything about me and I know nothing about them. Hundreds of pairs of feet and eyes, strangers and friends. None of us truly know one another. Really, it's sort of poetic.
"I started writing to her about a month ago." I admit. "I've...I've had a lot of complicated feelings and she was always the one I'd go to when I needed to...just...breathe, I guess."
As I look forward and speak, I feel his eyes on me.
My fingers begin to fiddle with the necklace my mother gave me.
"So when I lost her...I started writing notes to her as my own little way of staying connected to her." I swallow. "She's still with me in my head, in some ways."
"The necklace too." he says quietly, softly and I nod.
He knows. He understands. At least he makes me feel like he does.
"My mom had a necklace." he tells me, and I shift my gaze to him. When our eyes meet, he looks away, trading gazes with me as he looks forward now. "A diamond necklace. It was really special to her."
"Do you have it now?"
His jaw clenches for a moment as he looks ahead. "No." I watch as he swallows. "I did. I had it put in a safe place...but it was stolen."
My brows crease as I look at his tightened jaw bone.
"Stolen?" I question, "Who stole it?"
For a moment, he's quiet.
Like he's fighting himself from saying something, not knowing what he can say to me. Has he said too much? He swallows and looks down to his lap with discomfort, twisting the rings on his fingers in a fidgety motion.
I want to see your vulnerability, Harry.
Instinct is what casts over me, not rational thought, as I reach over and place the palm of my hand on his jaw so he has to turn his head.
Now, his face is held in my hand, and he looks at me with furrowed brows and parted pink lips.
As someone who appreciates the beauty in everything, I can say with honesty that Harry Styles was a breathtaking sight.
Not a flaw on his face, not even the cuts and healing bruises.
He was someone the renaissance painters would have loved.
"It's all gonna work out, Dreamboat." I say in a whispered tone.
He's breathing subtly through his mouth as his eyes dance back and forth between mine, then down to my lips, then back to my eyes in a perfect ballet.
His eyes are such a captivating emerald.
His tongue lapses over his bottom lip and he speaks again, his voice quiet and low.
"W-when her necklace was stolen, I lost my last piece of her." he says, then he looks down again. "But it was my own doing, really."
I gently take my hand away and keep my vision on him, tilting my head slightly. "How could you have made that happen?" I question.
He just shakes his head slightly. "Because, I joined this life and I made enemies. Those enemies found the one thing that could be used as leverage and they took it. I was asking for it—"
"No, it's not your fault." I interrupt, making him look up at me again, a rough crease between his dark eyebrows. His lips stay in a line but he's looking at me like he wants to hear it again.
"We don't choose what happens to us." I reiterate, "That wasn't something you could have controlled."
I expect him to scoff or look away or even ignore me completely, but instead, his eyes are still on mine and his lips part like what I had just told him was something he had never heard before.
Quiet. It's quiet.
His eyes pepper along the anatomy of my face again, very subtly, but when he looks at my lips I feel my stomach twirl.
So suddenly, I was ready to throw my morals away for him.
I'm looking at his mouth now, and he picks up on it, my eyes lifting slowly to his again and our gazes lock.
No dialogue is spoken. Not a lot needed to be said.
He leans his head into mine, our foreheads touching. The contact was enough to take my breath away.
I'd paint your lips such a pretty pale pink, Dreamboat.
Looking into his eyes, we're fighting what we know is wrong and right.
This...what I want to do...it's morally wrong.
"We..." my voice breaks a bit, "we can't..."
He shuts his eyes and his jaw tightens once more as he just nods, knowing what I meant and knowing I'm right about it.
Our foreheads stay together, because that's as close as we could get.
"You're killing me, Picasso." he speaks with a slight chuckle under his breath but I knew he was serious.
I just nod against his forehead, thinking the same.
He opens his eyes again, and this time, his pupils dilate when they meet my own.
"I'm tired of pretending I hate you." he mumbles so quietly.
This time, I scuffle a laugh and it earns the same thing from him.
"Me too." I whisper in response.
He takes a sharp inhale through his nose and slowly pulls his forehead away. Eyes meeting from a bit more of a distance now, his lips pull at the sides into the softest and subtlest smile.
"This Isaac guy is the bane of my fuckin' existence." he sighs and I cant help but laugh. Then, he looks out the window and brings his fingers to his bottom lip to toy with it, a habit I notice that he does while he's thinking.
"I'm gonna win you over one day, ya know?" he says, turning to look at me again with that infamous smirk.
I smile softly, shaking my head.
"I'm devoted to him."
But Harry just shrugs at my words, still smirking a little.
"I don't care." he grins, teeth showing. "I'm very persistent when I want something, Picasso." he speaks playfully.
The thing is, I should be upset at what he's saying. Going out of his way to talk about my fiancé and how he doesn't respect our relationship. In all honesty, he deserves a good slap across the face for that.
But I'm not upset about that. Not in the slightest.
And deep down, apart of me hopes that he's being serious.
Harry's phone buzzes in his pant pocket and he just rolls his head back along the top of the seat with a small groan as he fishes it out.
He looks down at the screen, takes a second, and then furrows his brows.
"What is it?" I ask, can't help but to be concerned.
He doesn't answer me, instead he reads his screen like he had to convince himself that what he was reading was real. Then, his hand comes to the rub down his face as he groans out an exasperated 'fuuuckkk'.
I sit up a bit more. "Harry?"
He blows a huff out of his mouth and shakes his head.
"My boss wants to see me."
I tilt my head and look off to the side in thought, then back at him as he sort of chucks his phone into the center console of his car.
"Your boss? Like..."
"Like one of the heads of the organization, yes." he confirms my thoughts.
"Why does he wanna see you?" I ask. "And why is that a bad thing?"
Clearly this is distressing him.
Again, he just shakes his head as he looks out the windshield and shifts the car into drive. Before I know it, we're driving off from our parking spot.
"We didn't leave things on a good note when we spoke earlier." he admits.
I recall him telling me that he and some of the higher-up people talked about what happened with Alec at the casino.
What worries me is that I was there too.
Do they know that? They have to. The dress that I wore was tailored to fit me. It was picked for me along with my alias.
They know about me.
"S-so what does that mean?" I question.
Harry's hand grips the steering wheel as his jaw tightens. He knows the answer, I think...but he won't say it.
"Harry." I say his name, needing something out of him before I start to freak myself out more.
"When we get there, I need you to sit and stay quiet." he says, making my eyes widen slightly.
This meeting involves me. I know it. My gut knows it. Otherwise, he would probably have told me to stay in the car.
A lump in my throat, I stay quiet and sink into my seat as Harry drives. I couldn't find it in me to speak, because I was that anxious.
What if they kill me for knowing about them?
I see Zayn's bar come in to view, but I didn't expect Harry to pull over to it. He parks the car and takes the keys out of the ignition, running a hand through his hair.
I turn to him with worry in my eyes and voice, "This is where you're meeting?"
"Yes, don't ask any more questions and keep your head down." he says as he opens up his door and gets out.
I don't even have the time to process that before he's coming over to my side of the car, opening the door for me. I undo my seatbelt and he holds out his hand, I look at him for a moment before I decide to take his hand and allow him to pull me out.
He lets go of my hand once I'm standing, then looks around as I look straight ahead at the doors that could seal my fate once I walk through them.
I don't know what to expect. For all I fucking know, I could be shot down with bullets as soon as my body enters through the threshold.
Harry places his hand on my lower back as we walk. The bouncer at the door, who would usually ask me for my identification, instead opens the door this time. I'm guessing because Harry's with me.
We get through the doors and into the bar, and I immediately find that it's empty. At least this front lower section anyway.
"Harry, I can't do this." I stop walking, making Harry turn to face me.
"Relax. Just stay here, I'm gonna go find—"
"Just the man I was looking for."
A man's voice cuts Harry off, both of our heads looking in the direction of the noise.
Down the stairs, loud and confident footsteps belong to a man I've never seen before. Tall, slicked back grey hair, clean cut facial hair, ironed black dress pants and a white button up dress shirt with an open black blazer. Gold jewelry accessorizes his wrists, fingers, and neck.
"Styles. It's nice to see you again." he smiles, a perfect set of straight and white teeth.
Behind the man, I see Zayn appear on the stairwell, like he had just been speaking with him as well. Zayn sees me, and immediately falls into a slightly stressed expression that he tries to mask right away.
I stay close to Harry subconsciously. For some reason I worry that if I move away, something bad will happen.
"Can we go upstairs to talk?" Harry speaks as his boss makes his way down the steps.
The man ignores him. He looks at me instead.
"You must be Elaina." He smiles.
Hearing my name from his mouth makes my stomach tighten. I knew deep down that these people were aware of who I am, but the confirmation is even scarier.
Breathe, Elaina.
"Y-yes." my voice stumbles.
I flick my eyes to Zayn, who seems like he's unsure of what to do. His lips are parted and his eyes are slightly wide.
And Harry, I can't see his expression. All I know is that he hasn't moved from directly next to me.
With a smile on his lips, he reaches his ring littered hand out for me to take.
"My name is Vincent Davies. You can call me Vince though."
I look down at his hand, then I look at Vincent's eyes again. His vision has not come off of me once, and it makes me nervous.
With hesitation, I lift my hand and allow him to grab it. He holds it in a firm grip, his lips tugging upwards once he has it. He lifts it to his mouth, placing a very gentle kiss on the back of it before lowering it.
"I've heard quite a few things about you." his smile remains. "I've been dying to meet you since."
"Vince—" Harry goes to speak but Vincent holds his hand up to stop him.
"Let her answer, Styles."
What is confusing to me, is that his tone isn't condescending or even evil like I expected. In a way, it's almost the opposite.
I shake my head slightly, trying not to burst out as a stuttering mess. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about." I say.
"Well," he begins, "when I first heard about what happened with Leonardo and Marco, I was interested right away..."
The mention of Leo and Marco, the guys that held Harry and I at gunpoint, makes my anxiety spike even more. I know they're still out there, and they want revenge. They even already attacked Harry, so who knows what they'll do to me when they find me—the girl that shot them.
"And now, hearing what happened at the party in Sicily, I have to say I'm impressed. Not only were you able to fight, you managed to undercover a trafficking ring."
I'm not sure where this is going.
His face and tone are calm and even inviting. But what if that's just a ploy? What if I'm being lured in? If I fall for this, could it get me killed?
Zayn and Harry wouldn't let that happen..would they?
"I...I don't want any trouble." I stumble over my words because of my nerves.
Vincent tilts his head, and allows a slight chuckle to leave his lips. "Oh, there must be a misunderstanding. There's no trouble." he looks at Harry next. "Did you tell her she'd be in trouble?"
Harry inhales, jaw tight. "Vince, can we talk in private."
"We did that already." Vince says to Harry before looking into my direction again.
The way he's speaking to Harry almost resembles a teacher speaking to a student when they've made a mistake. Or even a parent to a child.
I think it's because of Alec.
"Elaina," Vincent takes a short step toward me and it takes everything in me not to recoil. "I'm aware that Leonardo and Marco are on the hunt for you. And believe me, two of my members going rogue like this has frankly pissed me off. You've proven yourself enough to the point where I'd like to offer you protection."
Protection.
In the span of a few minutes, this conversation has become the exact opposite of what I anticipated. While I was preparing for the worst, this man who I have never met before—a man with power and money—is offering me safety.
There has to be some sort of catch.
My eyes drift to Zayn who stands behind and slightly to the left of Vincent. His face was riddled with concern and uncertainty. And when he realizes that I'm looking at him, he looks away.
I look back at Vincent.
"What's in it for you?"
The words were bold, especially when talking to a criminal boss. But, the reaction that is earned from Vincent is a smile again. A genuine one—like he was satisfied by what I said.
He runs his tongue along his bottom lip then leans to the side a bit, his arm resting on the bar as he looks at me.
"Smart girl."
I stay silent.
"You not accepting the offer straight away just impresses me more." he says. "You're cautious."
"I've learned that I have to be." I reply.
He exhales through his nose, holding his smile.
Harry and Zayn's silence has me questioning everything—whether the person in front of me is a threat or not.
He could hurt me. He could kill me. But he hasn't.
"I like you, Basset."
A shock of electricity hits my heart, but I try to stay neutral.
He knows my last name.
At the mention of my last name, I can feel Harry shift a little next to me. He straightens his back, moving only half a step closer.
"I want you to join us." Vincent speaks again.
This time, I can't hide my reaction. My mouth falls open and my eyes bounce around to Zayn, to Harry, to anything that felt familiar.
Does he mean what I think he means?
"Woah, that's kind of...big don't you think?" Harry steps in, moving slightly in front of me.
"Not really. If she's ready for it." Vincent retorts.
My shoulders sink and my chest caves, and I just shake my head.
"Join you?" I murmur, needing clarification before I spiral.
He nods like it was nothing. "We could train you. Make you into a weapon. I see potential in you."
Holy fuck.
"She can't." Harry speaks. "She's not like us."
Vincent tilts his head at Harry. "Why are you speaking for her?"
"N-no, he's right." I say. "I'm sorry, Vincent, but I can't."
As Harry said, I'm not like these people. I cant handle the kind of work they do. Even from simply helping Harry and Angela and the monarch's with jobs here and there, it's evident that I don't have the capacity for it. I'll fail and probably die.
"You don't think you can." Vincent says, "But it's in your head."
I start to crack my knuckles in anxious habit. My jaw clenches as my mind reels.
Not for a second did I even consider his offer.
"No." I state. "I appreciate whatever it is you see in me, but I'm not doing it."
I try to be as stern and upfront as I possibly can with my tone.
Vincent upholds his confidence and smirk on his lips. For a moment, he looks down to his feet and then adjusts the watch on his wrist.
"Very well." he says, eyes meeting me again. He had dark brown eyes, and I'd be lying if I said that they weren't intimidating. "I do have to tell you though, that I can't go through with my offer of protection if you don't hold your end of the deal, Elaina. I'm sorry."
I swallow and nod.
As great as it would have been to have security, especially with this new stalker I have, I understand that this mafia adjacent group can't just throw out protection without getting something in return. That's just not how it works, even I know that.
Clearing his throat, he adjusts his blazer. "Well, I've got some business to attend to." he says, then nods to me. "Elaina, I'm very pleased to have met you."
I press my lips into a polite smile, my heart still racing nonetheless.
He then looks at Zayn, then at Harry.
"You boys make sure she gets home safely." he directs, Harry and Zayn saying nothing as he leaves.
He walks out of the bar, and my frantic eyes can't help but follow his suave and mysterious demeanour. The bouncer opens the door for him, and there's already a car waiting for him outside.
It's not long before my attention is pulled off of Vincent.
"Why the fuck didn't you say anything!" Harry immediately goes for Zayn.
"I didn't get a chance!" Zayn retorts, the both of them stepping closer to each other.
"So what happened? You met with him to spill everything about her?" Harry accused with aggression in his voice, the vein in his neck popping.
"Harry for fucks sake, he was ready to fire your ass over the fucking Alec situation!"
"Guys, stop." I try to intervene verbally, but I get no where.
"Let him fucking fire me then!" Harry yells.
There haven't been many times where I've seen Harry blow his temper. Even when he is angry, he manages to stay mellow and level headed.
But not now. Now...he's full on shouting.
Zayn scoffs. "Oh really? Let him fire you? You know what happens to the people who piss him off enough to fire."
Harry lets out a groan of anger and steps back, beginning to pace now. He threads his fingers in his hair. "You don't realize what you've done."
"I didn't do shit!" Zayn shouts in defence. "He asked me about the casino and I told him what happened, I had no choice. He was going to find out about Elaina eventually. It's better that he heard it from us."
"Jesus Christ, can you both just fucking stop!" This time I'm the one yelling. "Are you forgetting that this is my life your fighting over?"
Their arguing comes to a halt, but I can tell that they're both still fuming with frustration for each other.
"You should have let me handle it." Harry says to Zayn, his voice calmer and quieter now.
Zayn just shakes his head. "I don't know what you want me to say. It's done."
Zayn goes to walk past Harry, but he stops in front of me for a moment. His brown eyes look into mine with a genuine stare of concerned friendship.
"I would never do anything if I thought it would put you at risk." he tells me. My lips part as I stare back, but he looks away.
I believe him.
He looks back at Harry, then tosses the keys to the bar at him. Harry's reflexes allow him to catch them just in time. "Lock up for me. I need to go."
And he does. He leaves.
I know that I'll need to talk with Zayn alone in private. In truth, I'm hurt that he'd bring up my name to such a dangerous individual. But, I do believe him when he says that he'd never put me in jeopardy. I just need him to uphold that promise. After all, he is my best friend and I need to have faith in him.
Alone in the bar with Harry, I look at him as he watches Zayn leave with a tightly wired jaw. He runs a hand through his locks and then sits down on a barstool, his leg jittering.
I bite my lip with stress as I sit down on the stool next to his. I look at my lap, not knowing what to say.
"I'm sorry I've caused so much stress today." my voice comes out as a mumble.
I immediately feel Harry turn his head to look at me, so I turn mine to meet his gaze. His brows furrow, lips parted open.
"What? You're not the one causing the stress..."
"I'm the root of it—"
"Jesus, stop that." he just shakes his head. "Stop apologizing for shit you can't control."
I look down again, fighting the urge to say sorry.
Harry can't sit still. Even the subtle movements he's making—like hands through his hair, fingers on his lips, his palm rubbing his face—I can tell he's got a lot on his mind.
I'm waiting for him to say something.
"I don't know how to keep you safe." he finally whispers, and his words shock me.
I look at him again, seeing his view pointed downward and his hands folded between his knees as he looks at the floor in deep thought.
"You don't need to keep me safe. That isn't your responsibility." I say.
I honestly don't know where that came from.
He swallows, his adam's apple moving up then down and he inhales through his nose, keeping his vision elsewhere.
"What are you thinking about?" I ask.
"Maybe..." he starts, like he was going to elaborate but is hesitant. "Maybe you should consider Vince's offer..."
My back straightens.
My initial feeling is confusion. Didn't he just fight with Zayn over this being a bad idea? And then, my next feeling...it's anger.
"What?" —that's all I can seem to respond with, sitting up straight and looking at Harry with my brows knitted together.
Now he looks at me, turning his head to read my reaction.
"Listen, I know him. I know the inner workings of this organization..." he starts, and I just can't help but look at him with dismay.
I don't want to hear this.
"Harry—"
"I know that he's being truthful when he says that he can give you protection. Okay? That man is true to his word."
I throw my hands up. "Okay so what? I have extra security and I become a fucking member of...whatever this is!?"
"You could be a Monarch. You'd be with us." he tries to defend.
"I barely know you!"
The words came out before I could think about them, and when he lets his expression fall slightly, I realize that I shouldn't have said it.
He doesn't allow me to see that my words hit him for long. He straightens up, and clears his throat, scratching the side of his nose as he stands from the stool.
I sigh, briefly shutting my eyes. "Harry, I didn't mean it that way, I—"
"It's fine. Let me take you back to Angela's." he says, ready to leave just like that with his car keys and the keys to the bar in the palm of his hand.
I watch him as he heads for the door.
My chest hurts. And not because of the Vincent situation.
"Don't you think we should talk more about this?" I say, just spouting the first thing I can think of to make him stop walking.
He turns around, shrugs, and bites his cheek before he talks. "What's there to talk about?"
I stand up from the stool, patting down my dress. "I didn't mean to make you mad."
He shakes his head. "I'm not mad, Picasso. Let's just go." he urges, like he wants the conversation to be over.
He didn't sound mad. He sounded sad. Defeated. Stressed.
I'm only beginning to be on decent terms with him...I don't wanna ruin it. Not like this.
Right when he's about to reach the door, my mouth opens in desperation and I speak again with no hesitation.
"Harry."
He turns. He waits.
I inhale through my mouth. "Do you think I should take the offer?"
I watch as his chest moves up and down, like he's calculating his answer.
I would have never asked him for advice when I first met him. I wouldn't even think twice about putting an ounce of trust in him.
But things are changing.
Harry takes a step forward and exhales. "I know you think I'm a bad guy—well, I guess in some ways I am. But I know you've been betrayed and hurt in the past...and I'm not one to hurt people that don't deserve it."
As he speaks, I realize that I'm not breathing.
"So yeah." he continues. "I think you should take the protection and let us help you."
The craziest part of this whole thing wasn't the fact that I was being asked to join a gang, or the fact that I had just met with one of the leaders of said gang.
It was the fact that I believed every single word Harry just said. And I don't know why.
I tried to imagine Isaac speaking those words to me, and I can see myself hesitating when it's him. But not with Harry.
I'm not sure what that means. It just adds to the confusion overtaking my brain.
"And if it doesn't work out, then I'll get you out of it. Somehow." he tells me.
I'm trying to look at this from all angles. Harry telling me to take the offer doesn't benefit him. There's nothing that he gains from me accepting, unless I'm totally missing something. But I really don't think so.
Looking at Harry, I nod.
"Okay." I breathe.
His brow furrows. "Okay?"
I nod again, setting this major decision in stone.
"I'll accept the offer."
And just like that, an uncertain fate of some kind was sealed.
//
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