Authors note: Sorry, there's a lot of dialogue. I'm trying to work on it! I hope you all enjoy part 4.
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My fingers type away at my desk, composing an email for my boss who doesn't have a way with words. He's not excessively formal. He's too straightforward and doesn't tend to stick to sophistication when it comes to emails.
My eyes leave the screen, and I see a shadow at the door. I smile up at my best friend as she transits in with files in her hands. I lean back in my chair and cross my arms, taking note of her attire. A nicer than usual dress, and a pair of heels that look brand new.
"Addilyn, what's this?" I gesture my finger up and down, curious as to why her attire is nicer than usual. She gives me a timid smile, and I raise a brow. "Spill," I instruct, and she places the organised collections of documents on my desk.
"I'm going out after I get off," she bites her lip, intriguing my curiosity even further.
"C'mon, don't make me guess the details." I lament.
"Tonight's the night." She whispers, her eyes gleaming radiantly.
"The night?" I call into question.
The night for what?
Her very vague response only leaves me quaintly wondering what she means.
Honestly, it could be the night she finally gets rid of the repulsive Christmas sweater she wears when we are told to wear Christmas sweatshirts. It could also be the night she gets drunk for the first time. She's quite the goody-good— some would say somewhat reserved and a smidge sheltered.
"You know." She whispers, blushing lightly.
"...the night for sex?" I challenge, just for my own amusement.
Watching her eyes grow wide as the word sex slips off my tongue is entertaining. It makes me chuckle.
"No!" She reprehends, shaking her head at me.
The word sex is a word she tries to avoid coming to grips with, and as her best friend, it is my duty to bring it up and observe her as she squirms.
"Addi, there's nothing wrong if it's the night. It's pleasant," I assure her mischievously, imperceptibly winking at her.
In all honesty, I am correct. It's pleasant.
She huffs and stares at me. Okay, time to be serious-minded.
"What's tonight?" In a low voice, I interrogate, drawing the papers relating to a matter requiring attention to my lap and running my fingers over them.
"I think he's proposing." She shrieks, overly aroused as the words roll off her tongue.
"Really?" I narrow my eyes at her, considerably surprised that she thinks she's getting engaged.
This is the first I've heard about it, and I'd expect her lover to inform me if he's marrying my best friend.
"Yes, I found the box. I hinted I wanted a holiday proposal." She comments, sitting on the edge of my desk.
"Addi, I have found many boxes, and none of them has been an engagement ring. It could be earrings or something." I elucidate with a sigh, not wanting her to get her hopes up.
I recall the time I was attempting to find god knows what, and a small-sized Tiffany blue box fell from the built-in wardrobe. Instantaneously I started freaking out and panicking that Harry was going to propose. I didn't open the box. I put it back and disquietly paced the house for a good hour. That night when he came home, I could barely gaze at him. It turns out he had brought me a pair of earrings to match my dress for his entrepreneurial party. My panicking was literally for no reason. All because I presumed he was going to propose marriage.
"I think it is," she shakes her head.
"Let me know how it goes," I instruct, getting back to my work as she gets off my desk and leaves.
I press my elbows to my desk, undesirous of being trapped in the office space. Unlike Harry, I don't have a capital window with an aesthetic city view. Sometimes I envy him. Darling office views are a spectacular thing— in my sentiment, so sedative, breathtaking, and a reminder of what lies below.
It's ten in the morning, and I still haven't had a coffee. How I am functioning, I do not know.
My phone takes my concentration, and I glance down at it.
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"Hope you're feeling better. Where are you? You're not at the house, I'm disappointed. X CEO. Styles.& Co -Harry."
"I feel better. I'm at work; you'll get over your disappointment. Fancy bringing me a coffee? I'll make it worth your while. ;)"
"Are you initiating to seduce me at your workplace? Elise, that is unprofessional. CEO. Styles.& Co -Harry"
"Take it or leave it, Styles. I'm surprised 'unprofessional' is in your vocabulary. Gotta work now. Xx"
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"You're not good at following instructions, are you?" Harry's voice disturbs me from my assigned work, and my eyes dart to him as he stands in my doorway.
What a charming surprising event.
"Hello, Harry." I greet, and he steps in, wearing his suit pants and jet black button-down.
Holy hell.
"All black, nice." I grin, appreciating how well-featured he views in all black.
If I weren't such a modest and somewhat angelic person, I'd tell him to take me under the table.
Oh, how I hold in detestation, yet cherish when he's in all black, so bloody alluring.
"Yes, why are you here?" He lowers his eyes on me, coming closer to my desk, disrupting me from my fixed stare.
"I work here. Why are you here?" I tilt my head, unsure of why he is in my office without warning.
He leans down and kisses my cheek, "I'm having a discussion with your boss, and I got coffee." He announces, holding up a cup of coffee, placing it on my desk, "I thought we agreed on you staying home?" He proceeds, his eyes staring down at me while my eyes gaze up, admiring his intensely black accoutre.
If only I could undo those buttons.
"You agreed on that, actually. I'm fine." I shake my head, emphasising who was the one who agreed on me ostensibly staying home. I never adhered to his instructions.
My hand reaches for the coffee, the warmth radiating at a moment's notice.
Ah, freshly brewed coffee, hand-delivered by the finest man. "Thank you for the coffee," I smile up at him.
"It was a mutual agreement." He shakes his head, "and you weren't fine this morning at three A.M throwing up." He makes me remember my early morning tragedy, oh how I don't want to even think about how my morning started.
"I'm fine now. Why are you talking to my boss?" I softly interrogate, pressing the coffee cup to my lips, the coffee tasting exceptional, just the right amount of sugar and a touch of vanilla. Perfect.
"Business. He asked to meet," Harry vaguely answers, not giving me much to work with. I sigh in an attempt to study his facial expression, curiosity sweeping over me.
What are Harry and my boss concocting?
What could they possibly need to meet about?
Harry distracts my thoughts as I notice him picking up my notebook and opening it.
"Harry, stop snooping," I instruct, and he grabs a pen and scribbles down in my notebook.
"Ditch the idea. The business revenue sucks, and whoever pitched that idea is a fledgeling," Harry observes, placing my notebook back down.
"Harry!" I reprimand, grabbing the notebook and pushing it in my drawer, "you know nothing about the revenue." I murmur, knowing very well and good he expectably has a better understanding than what I do— but that's not the point. "Don't snoop." I forewarn, closing down the tabs on my computer.
"Whatever, I'm going to meet your boss. I'll see you sometime tonight." Harry dismisses me, leaning down and kissing my cheek, leaving me somewhat sullen.
I go back to my computer, working and reflecting upon Christmas. The house semblances as if Scrooge dwells in it. There's not a single thing embellished, we don't even have a Christmas tree.
Who doesn't have a tree at Christmas?
I necessitate adding Holiday spirit to the home. It's all too bland, and I don't have a taste for it.
I shake my thoughts away, making an effort to concentrate on my task, but all I can consider is aureate twinkling lights being strung around the house. There's no way I can convince Harry to string the lights. I can scarcely persuade him to be home before I fall asleep.
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I step into the Styles and Co building, my heels gliding across the blackened glazed tiles.
"Ma'am, it is after hours," I overhear a woman courteously call, my eyes glance over towards the desk, and I give her a small smile,
"I'm with Harry," I graciously express, holding up my keys and watching as she bites her lip nervously.
"Elise?" She questions in a tender voice. I give her a nod, "I'm sorry, go ahead." She gestures towards the elevators, and I stride my way to them, making my way up to Harry's floor.
I make my way around the floor, stopping as I get to Harry's office space, finding it unoccupied. "He's in a late meeting." A familiar voice disrupts me. I turn around, and my eyes meet his assistant, Anastasia. Her hair falls flawlessly over her shoulders, her makeup unblemished, her eyes glistening.
Labelling her as ravishing would be an understatement.
"Oh." I sound lost for words as I stand mesmerised by her beauteousness.
She flashes me a smile before her eyes dart around the area.
"Oh, Harry asked me to frame pictures for his office. Would you like to pick the pictures?" She affably formulates, beckoning for me to follow her to her desk. I promptly follow, unsure of what kind of pictures he's placing in his office.
He definitely isn't the kind of man who initially desires to have things hanging on his walls, hence the reason his office isn't furnished with decorations besides the books. She pulls pictures from her drawer and lays them on her desk.
It takes me a moment to realise they're all pictures of him and me. I stare at them, bewildered. He truly wants to put our pictures on display.
"I was thinking of doing a collage. What do you think?" She smiles up at me, awaiting my decision.
Is there anything this woman isn't perfect at?
"I like that," I confirm with a nod, smiling down at the pictures in front of me—all from different times.
My heart flutters as my eyes lockdown on a picture of Harry and me dancing. It was a wedding we were invited to, and the photographer snapped a picture of the two of us romantically slow dancing— it's one of my favourite pictures. So peaceful and romantic.
"So, I have permission to make a collage?" Anastasia composedly consults with. In return, I nod my head, yes.
I overhear a door close, and I turn around to see an ill-tempered man muttering and striding to another office. I glance back towards Anastasia, an ill at ease expression written on her face.
I don't even think I want to ask any questions.
"Elise," Harry's voice distracts me, and I turn to see him walking closer to me, his lips pursed in a fine line.
"Hey," I greet, and he places a little kiss on my cheek.
"'ello, why are you not home?" He queries, his eyes scanning me up and down.
"I just got off and wanted to see you." I respond, his eyes immediately filling with concern.
"Anastasia, I'll be in my office." He tenderly pulls me into his office, closing the door behind us.
I glance around. The office hasn't changed since I was last in here, the books in accomplished order, his desk in a pleasingly orderly and clean condition and flawless as usual, everything in an impeccable formation.
"Elle, are you okay?" He sweetly probes, his voice no longer sounding as strong and overpowering as it did previously.
I chuckle to myself, turning around to face him, and I lean on his desk.
"I am fine, Harry," I confirm with a nod, "are you? You seem concerned," I gently inquire, taking notice of how his shoulders seem to be tense, his eyes wearied and dark.
He gives me a brief nod, stepping closer to me, kissing me gently.
A gesture I can never refuse to indulge in.
A knock at the door pulls his lips away from mine, and a groan escapes his lips. I look up at him with a smile before he steps towards the door, allowing a worker to enter.
"I've concluded a marketing idea, sir." The young man stutters. I'd say he's comparatively newly born to the business world, he's young appearing, and doesn't expose any dominance.
He appears insecure, almost weak at his knees.
"I'll, uh— I'll wait outside." In a low voice obtrudes upon, I am aware of as Harry's hand reaching for the papers relating to a matter requiring validation, he gazes at me, his dark eyes narrowing on me.
He shakes his head, "no, stay." He instructs, walking around and sitting at his desk.
I prop myself against his bookshelf, observing as the man anxiously awaits a response from Harry.
Silence sweeps across the office and I apprehend how the young man is twiddling with his fingers, a sign of fretfulness. Poor guy expectably feels intimidated standing in front of his boss. I'd dislike intensely to be in his position, he appears to lack composure or dignity of manner. Harry always states that one should never show fear, once fear is shown, the battle is over and the fear becomes the prey.
"The marketing idea sucks, it's weak, it's utter shit. Re-think it." Harry throws the file back at his worker, the file sliding across his desk, almost falling to the cold floor. "Don't just stand there, go." Harry waves bad-tempered towards the door, the man nodding sheepishly before hurrying out. Harry huffs and he vigorously pulls his suit jacket up to his arms.
"Harry, that was harsh," I mutter while he grabs his keys from his desk.
"Being nice loses me money in my own damn business," Harry grunts broodily, his tone of voice somewhat irking me.
I have a feeling I'll be hearing about this for rest of the night. "You didn't need to throw the file." I clear my throat, his dark eyes narrowing down on me, his hands adjusting the collar of his jacket.
"Was I meant to give it to him graciously? Pet him on the shoulder for an idea that would lose the company millions? Because that's not how I fucking work, Elise." Harry growls before taking a heavy breath.
He's had quite the unforeseen change of mood, he wasn't as readily angered moments ago. "Sorry." He mutters, shoving things into his briefcase.
"Harry—" I begin, shortly being cut off by Harry's voice.
"If you're going to lecture me, don't." He forewarns, appearing excessively feisty and tense.
"Harry, please calm down. I'm your girlfriend, not an employer." I pleasantly remind him.
He heavily sighs, drawing his briefcase off the desk and stepping around the desk. "Let's go," Harry mutters, stepping out of his office with me trailing behind me.
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Harry thrusts open the door entering the foyer before travelling into the living room, he stops in the doorway and turns to stare at me. I can't tell if he's irritated, baffled, or both. "First, why do we have two Christmas trees up to the ceiling in our living room?" He narrows his eyes down on me and I give him an impudent grin, "Elise, how many Trees did you buy?" He challenges, stepping into the living that is at the present time filled with boxes of assorted Christmas decorations.
I lean up and place a kiss on his cheek, "all that matters is you love me, and that it is the season to be jolly," I remind him, stepping away from him.
He lets out a breath before peeking into a box.
"I do love you," Harry agrees, "but don't you think this will be a bit much?" Harry benevolently requests, gazing at me with tremendously exhausted eyes.
I shake my head, enthused to furnish the house with decorations and with Christmas spirit, after all— it's the most wonderful time of the year.
"Baby, it's going to look like Santas workshop threw up in here."
"There's nothing wrong with that, Scrooge," I wink at him as he turns to glare at me, not too content with the nickname.
"I am not a grumpy old man," he disputes, "where's the third tree? It better not be in our room," Harry advises, sounding precisely like a person who abominates Christmas.
"You're acting very grumpish. The third Tree is by the staircase," I inform him, observing as he tugs out stockings from a box.
"Elle, sweetheart— I'm just exhausted. Decorate as much as your heart desires." He lowers his voice, giving into my Christmas spirit and decorating until my heart is content.
"I had planned too." I murmur as he rolls his eyes.
"Alright, sassy. You have everything organised, so I'm going to relax. Have fun being buddy the freaking elf." Harry half smiles, his eyes scanning the boxes again. "Sorry, totally wasn't trying to be hateful." He corrects himself, causing me to chuckle,
"Will you do me a favour?" I express with a grin, battering my eyes to bewilder him. He sighs yet again, giving me a nod. "Will you find the garland and hang it up on the staircase?" I sweetly pose. Harry glances at me unexpressively.
"The what?"
"The garland, Harry," I respond, observing as he rubs the back of his neck, seeming a little stray.
"Are you referencing to some kind of lingerie? Because I'd love to find it and hang it on the staircase." He smirks, causing me to chuckle. Surely, he is not serious right now.
"No, a garland is the, Uhm, it's like one big wreath." I elucidate.
"Damn, my version is so much better." He shrugs his shoulders, "but, yes. I guess I can hang it." He nods, beginning to dig into boxes.
Harry pulls out random things, entertained by how much I bought.
"How much did all this cost?" Harry quaintly challenges, holding a crystal snowflake in his hand, somewhat appreciating it.
"That snowflake? Or everything?" I question. For a moment Harry pauses and looks down at the snowflake, he thinks for a moment.
"Both."
"The snowflake its self is £80 a piece, the whole thing... just check the bank statement," I innocently bat my eyes.
"Well, at least now we have Christmas galore." He smiles, steadily placing the snowflake down and continuing to look through the boxes.
Buying three colossal size trees wasn't a brilliant idea. I didn't realise that putting ornaments on just one of them would be tremendously time-consuming and enervating.
I feel hands press to my shoulders, lightly working in circular motions.
"Want some help?" A sleepy voice offers, filling my heart with exaltation.
"No, it's okay, you're tired." I shake my head, not wanting to feel guilty for keeping him awake. He leans over me, placing an ornament on the tree.
"Hire someone to decorate it all for you and come to bed." He whispers, sending shivers down my spine.
Tempting, very tempting.
"C'mon, bed." He whispers in a firm tone, instructing instead of politely asking.
"Demanding," I comment, turning to face him as his arms wrap around me, his lips form a straight line, his eyes narrowing down on me before giving me a reverence.
"Well, your wish is my command." I place a small kiss on his lips, gladly taking his hand and leading to the stairway. I smile, seeing the third tree standing tall by the staircase, optimally complementing the curve of the stairs.
We reach the top of the staircases, and I make my way into our lavishing sleeping quarters, leaping for the bed— childishly.
"If you break the bed, you're sleeping on the couch." Harry chimes, stepping in, his hand unclipping his watch from his wrist.
"We haven't broken it yet. I doubt me jumping once will." I impudently smile with satisfaction, noticing as he bites his lip.
"You, darlin', have gotten very cheeky," Harry announces, sitting on the bed.
Every girl has a bodacious and cheeky side. It just takes the right man to unleash it. I smile over at him and shrug, the sound of my phone abruptly distracting me.
"Elise, what happened to no phones in the bedroom?" Harry asks as he reaches over for my phone and looks at the caller ID.
"You always have yours." I shrug, taking the phone and answering it.
After a small conversation on the phone with Addilyn, accompanied by a few short squeals, I finally manage to hang up. I turn to Harry, his eyes closed as he lies soundly in bed. "Are you awake?" I softly ask, placing my phone on the side table,
"No," Harry mumbles, draping an arm over my stomach, pulling me closer to his warm body.
"Good, we have an engagement party to attend the twenty-third." I enlighten him, considerably surprised myself that Addilyn has indeed gotten engaged.
Harry let out a groan, burying his face into my neck, "that's the night before Christmas Eve." He dryly mumbles, sounding wistful.
"Yes, be there with me. It's black-tie attire." I yawn, allowing my body to become comfortable within the bed.
"Wait, Addi got engaged?" Harry gasps, his voice low and slow, weariness setting in.
"Yes."
"Hmm, she strikes me as the girl who wouldn't get married unless she dated the guy for ten years." Harry exaggerates in his groggy yet adorable state.
"Well, she's engaged. We can talk about this in the morning, and I'm tired." I instruct, cutting the conversation short.
A small kiss is placed on my cheek before Harry buries himself in his pillow, falling asleep almost instantly.