#also hey hey hey who wants to talk with me about logan's profoundly fucked up self-image

[words-writ-in-starlight]

Logan (x-men) and 1, 5, or 9 from the Stabby Starters. I can't decide. :X also feel better!

5: You’re the one with a blade at my throat, so you’re obviously upset.

For this ask meme!  Also, will probably make more sense knowing that I wrote this!  Some general dialogue shamelessly borrowed from X-Men Evolution.

So the girl’s good.

Logan’s an adult.  He can admit that much.  She’s small, even by his standards, and–wiggly, and she dropped out of a tree with a shriek like a mountain lion right on top of him, a blade at his throat before he could do more than grab the nearest available limb.

“Hey, now,” Logan says.  One hand is clamped tight around her ankle���probably tight enough to hurt, although she seems unbothered–and the other is drawn back, clenched into a fist.  His claws are sheathed, though, and he’d like them to stay that way.  She’s too small to be an adult–he works with a lot of kids, and he’s guessing fourteen.  Maybe fifteen, at the outside.  He’s not in a rush to play slice-n-dice with someone younger than Kitty.  Besides, his mouth will taste like blood for a week if she really does slit his throat.  “What do you want?”

“You’re Weapon X,” she hisses.

The snarl that rips itself out of his throat is involuntary and sounds inhuman, his lips pulling back thoughtlessly as rage threatens to roll over him like a storm front.  “I am not.”

“You are.”  Her grip tightens, one hand tangled in the longest part of his hair to expose his jugular.  It’s not a great way to cut a throat without an extremely sharp blade, the important arteries hidden under layers of taut tissue, but his skin parts like wet paper under her weapon, sending blood in a steady trickle down his chest.  If it was Logan, he could go through all that protective tissue in a heartbeat.  He’s sure this girl can do the same.

She’s shaking, he realizes, as if she’s holding back her own storm front by a hair.  Every muscle is trembling, although her blade is steady.  A breath through his nose says blood-rage-fear to his brain, layered over a scent that just doesn’t seem to register right.  Everyone has their own distinct smell, except for this girl, who seems–off.

Christ, but this would be a great moment for Charles, or even Jean, to sense this scuffle and intervene.  Logan isn’t really a good candidate for whatever this is.  He’s too much of a linear thinker–A leads to B, where A is a problem and B is violence.

He takes a deep breath, as best he can without pushing the blade deeper into his throat, and tries to sound like he’s in control when he says, “How about we talk about this like people?”

“I’m not people.”

Well, okay then.  That’s a starting point, at least.  “Fair enough.  Me neither, ‘cording to some.  You want to tell me why you’re upset, at least?”  A profoundly terrible thought occurs to him.  “Listen, kid, if I did something to someone–”

“I’m not upset!”  Her voice is high and thin and ragged, like something feral, like she’s barely forming words rather than just screaming until there’s blood on her teeth.  Like he used to be, right after he stumbled out of the lab.

“I mean, you’re the one with the blade at my throat,” Logan says evenly.  “So you’re obviously upset about something.”

She flips over his shoulders, lands crouched on the ground in front of him, and–  Listen.

He can’t quite find it in himself to blame her for cutting his throat on the way down.

Pressing one hand to his throat and coughing up wet mouthfuls of blood, Logan gets a good look at his attacker for the first time.  He thinks he was right about her physical age, rounds up to fifteen for the way she moves–like she’s been trained for years, for decades, to fight and kill as gracefully as possible.  She’s a few shades darker than he is, in what skin he can see revealed by her black combat gear, and wears her hair loose around her face.  Confidence, not idiocy–she doesn’t have a scrap of body armor that he can see.  

One hand is still outstretched at her side, fist clenched, and two shining silver claws streaked with Logan’s blood extend almost a foot from her knuckles.

Her face is still soft with baby fat, her chin pointed and her hairline different, but now, looking at her as she snarls up at him, he understands why he was having trouble pinning down her smell.  

The thing is, in order for someone with enhanced senses to function, certain things get edited out.  Their own heartbeat, their own breathing, the feeling of clothing.  Their own scent.

Logan’s memory of his past is fragmented at best–he has clear moments, even years, as far back as the turn of the 20th century, and he’s fairly sure that he hasn’t aged much in that time.  But for a long while, he knew his face better from pictures than from the mirror, people who had everything from daguerreotypes to Polaroids of some strange drifter, ageless and impossibly healthy.  He knows that when he was younger, when he looked less angry and exhausted all the time–he knows what he looks like, not least because people keep telling him–he looked a lot like this girl.

“Who are you?” he demands.  The words are garbled, the wound at his through not totally closed over yet and blood bubbling out of his mouth when he speaks, but she seems to understand.  He spits out blood, swallows a few times to check that his throat is healing correctly, keeps talking now that his windpipe seems to be keeping air in and blood out again.  “What do you want?”

“It’s your fault,” the girl says–screams, really, and she throws herself at him in a storm of claws and rage.  She really is good, but Logan is old and has fought a lot of people in his time, and without surprise on her side, it’s a short fight.  He catches her wrists like manacles and she throws herself against the restraint, kicks out with a spike, another claw, and Logan mostly dodges.  He thinks she bruised a kidney, but that’ll heal up.  He manages to get behind her, pins her arms behind her back.

“They upgraded since my time,” he huffs as she hurls her weight backward, trying to knock him off his feet.  He takes the blow in the chest and doesn’t move.  She screams again, wordless and blind and furious, hanging from his grip like a dead thing except for the way her spine shakes with tension.  “Hey, kid,” he says, trying to sound soothing.  He thinks he lands somewhere in the neighborhood of frustrated.  “Kid, can you tell me your name?  Can you tell me who sent you?”

“I don’t have a name,” she says.  It’s ragged and tired and broken.  “I’m Version Twenty-Three.  Weapon X-23.”

Logan fucking drops her.  She lands in a pile on the forest floor, hands and knees, and before she can get up again, Logan crouches down beside her.

“Kid,” he says.  “What did they do to you?”

“They made me,” she says.  “Fight fire with fire.  The–”  Her lips twist a little, behind the curtain of her hair.  “The upgrade.”

“They–”  Logan has to take a minute on that one, crush down the nausea before he can speak.  “They cloned you from me.  Cloned a bunch of you, I guess.  Pumped you full of adamantium and trained you up and sent you out here to kill me.”

“They didn’t send me,” she says dully.  

The logic of the situation stutters to a halt.  Not that it was really that logical to start.  

“Okay,” Logan says.

“I was the only viable clone,” she says, like she’s parroting someone’s familiar words.  “The others never made it through the adamantium process.  They were going to–”  Her voice breaks and she lowers her head.  “They were going to make more,” she whispers.  Then she sets her shoulders and clenches her jaw and glares at him.  “So I destroyed their lab and killed everyone inside and I ran away.”

Fuck.

“Okay,” Logan says again, the rest of her plan–not complex, but certainly very direct, frankly it sounds like one of his plans–becoming clear to him.  “And you came to find me.  To make sure I never helped them, one way or another.”

She nods, a tiny fragile movement.  “Because it’s your fault,” she says, her voice still small but absolutely unshakable.  “They made us and tortured us and killed us because of you.”

Logan sits down on the leaves beside her.  “Yeah,” he says.  “Because they built their perfect weapon and then it got angry and ran.  So they built a bunch more weapons and figured that since they had you your whole lives, you’d never think twice about doing what they wanted.”  He pauses.  “You did real good, kid.  Plenty of people would’ve laid down and died, not tried to take them down.”

She stares at him like he’s speaking another language, white-walled eyes and something like terror on her face.  “What?”

“You did the right thing,” he says, pretending that he can’t see her face, letting her pretend that she’s not afraid.  “Trashing their lab.  I’m real proud of you.”

She tries to punch him, a blind strike as if trying to hit his words out of the air before she has to hear them.  Logan catches her wrist and she falls into him like all that adamantium is too heavy to lift, all of a sudden, like her muscles have all gone weak and she can’t bear it anymore, and she screams into his chest like she’s dying.  He lets her, holds onto her shaking shoulders while she screams and screams, lets her clutch at his arms with hands that would break someone else’s bones, and waits.

It’s dark out by the time the girl, X-23, his should-have-been killer, is still again.

“You okay?” Logan asks her.  She pulls away from him, angry again–embarrassed, he thinks.  “You have a plan, past killing me?”

“Not really,” she says with a shallow shrug.  “Didn’t really expect to live through it.”

“I don’t kill kids.”

“I’m not a kid.”

“You’re, what, maybe twelve years old.”

“I’m fifteen.”

“Like I said, I don’t kill kids.”  She scowls at him and he pretends he can’t see her.  “If you want,” he says, “you can come with me, back to the Institute.  Get some backup, a warm bed, three squares a day, all that.”  She shakes her head, fast and violent.  “All right,” he says without concern.  “You can stay here, if you want.  I’ll come back.”  That doesn’t get a response, and he takes it as an affirmative.  “We’ve got to get you a name though.  Can’t keep calling you kid all the time.”

“I don’t have a name.”

“Don’t really have one myself,” Logan says.  “We’ll get you one.”

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Styles & Co. | Chapter 18.

Authors Note: Here it is, chapter 18!! YAYY!! I hope you guys like it! :)

I'd like to give a special shout out and thank you to a lovely mutual of mine who has yet to be shouted out. She has been incredibly helpful with the background info, @cloud-hop

Warning: Rated M for Mature audiences: May contain strong language.

Don’t forget the other links:

Can also be fund on WattPad, HERE Previous parts found HERE You can find my blurb Master list HERE To Enter to win tickets for Harry Styles IN Nashville TN, HERE

Harry:

I groan when the racket of my alarm blares its way through the darkened bedroom, the sun not even managing to peak through the curtains draped over the extensive window. My hand dances its way across my bedside table, striving to grasp my phone, accidentally hitting it to the floor before I can turn the sound off. “Fuck,” I grumble to myself, forcing my weary body to lean over the bed and tug my phone back up to me by its chord. With one eye open, I turn my alarm off, disregarding all my messages, including the ones from my sister and Anastasia.

I sigh profoundly as I lie on my back, my eyes blinking up at the ceiling, my mind beginning to wander towards the business side of matters, my mind racing with what my plans for the day are. I press my hands to my burning eyes, rubbing them, suddenly becoming distracted when I catch Elise’s affectionate voice, “Good morning,” she gently distracts me and I move to my side, propping myself up on my arm,

“Hey, why are you up? It is Four A.M.” I immediately question, taking note of how she is rested up against the headboard and the pillows. Elise gives me an inadequate shrug,

"Can’t sleep,” she answers, leaning over and pecking my lips gently, “You’re cute when you’re sleepy.” She smiles down at me, a small smirk managing to form across my lips before I fall back to my pillow, “Especially when you do that,” her voice continues before I feel the tender touch of her hand pressed against my bare back, gliding itself in a soothing motion,

“Mmm, that feels good,” I mumble into my pillow, closing my eyes as I become more relaxed with her touch.

“As much as I could sit here and keep doing this, you will be bothered if I let you fall asleep.” Elise gently lures me away from my comfortable state, my eyes opening as I prop myself back up on my arm, my eyes gazing at her.

“Good call,” I nod, “Do you have work today?” I challenge as I force myself to sit up and push the remainder of the covers off my body, drawing myself from the bed and to my feet.

I let out a heavy breath, a slight ache still tingling in my lower back as I stretch my arms over my head. Elise gives me another shrug, “I don’t really want to go in.” She dryly responds, reaching for her phone. I don’t bother to ask another question, I let her be while I go to the bathroom and brush my teeth, allowing myself to gradually wake up.

I step back into our bedroom, Elise still against the headboard, the covers over her as her eyes follow me around the room.

"You didn’t sleep, did you?” I raise a brow while I bring my button down into my grasps, sliding it up my arms and drawing it to the front of my body. Elise shakes her head as my hands leisurely begin to button up my shirt,

“Elise, you need sleep,” I sigh, taking notice of the dark circles around her eyes.

“I am fine,”  She mutters through her teeth, not convincing me in the slightest.

"I beg to differ,” I shake my head, “I woke up to you kicking and whimpering in your sleep, you are not fine.” … “Can you tell me what happened? If I knew, I could help.” I softly announce, my eyes not leaving hers as I button up the last button of my work shirt.

Elise grows withdrawn, not responding to me, her eyes just staring over at me while I wait for her to answer.

I continue with getting ready, leaving the bedroom silent while I pull on my pants, socks, and my shoes, my mind trying to think of a way to get her to speak.

“Baby, I have seen every Nicholas Sparks movie with you, I know every detail about everything you love and hate, this is not like you. Nightmares are very rare. Do you think for a minute I don’t love you or something, are you scared to tell me? Like fuck, Elise, I’d do anything for you and I know you damn well know you don’t have to keep anything from me. What the fuck happened?” … “was it Logan? I need answers. You don’t get to come home with bruises without an explanation.” I mutter, aware that my voice is a god awful tone at the moment, but I am very frustrated and hurt by the fact she tried to hide her bruises from me.

I shake my head, watching as she doesn’t say a word, her lips staying pursed into a fine line, her eyes staring at me, still.

I run my hand through my hair, “Elise, are you going to talk or just stare at me?” I question unsure of why she is just staring at me, completely speechless. ”I have to go to work, I’m going to need you to come with me.” I mutter, “and since you have a lack of talking to me, I don’t think there will be an issue.” I add harshly, grabbing my jacket and forcing it up my arms, my eyes burning into Elise as she stays in bed, “Unless you are sick, you are coming with me. Come on, get up, I am going to be late.” I gesture towards the time, watching as she glares at me.

“Why are you being so harsh?” Elle softly questions, finally managing to speak, reminding me that I am sounding like an inconsiderate prick at the moment, for the hundredth time in the last few days.

I heavily sigh, “Elle, I am sorry. I am not trying to be harsh. I am upset that my soon to be wife came home with bruises on her. I feel like I have failed as a partner if you can’t tell me these things.” .. “Get dressed, you’re coming to work with me.” I instruct, trying my best not to sound like a total prick. I just want her to be safe and to feel safe, and right now the best I can do is to keep her in arms reach, to do that, I need her in my office.

My morning has been nothing short of long and chaotic, with my phone continuing to ring constantly, my hands not managing to leave my MacBook keyboard for more than a few minutes as they are forced to write emails, proposals and everything else possible, all while I keep Elise in my office, safe and sound.

“Are you sure you don’t want coffee or lunch?” I offer as I swivel from side to side in my leather chair, deciding to subsequently neglect my duties for the time being.

Elise shakes her head, screwing her nose up slightly, not seeming interested in the coffee or the food that I have. For a moment I frown, but I decide not to act upon it. “Fine, more for me.” … “What do you want to talk about? You’re far too quiet for my liking.” I comment, taking a sip of my warm coffee, quite enjoying it as Elise leans back in her chair with a heavy sigh.

“You’re not going to leave me alone until I tell you, are you?”

I shrug, placing my coffee on my desk, “Baby, are you getting grouchy again?” I raise a brow, somewhat amused by her tone of voice, but also a little on edge about it.

I don’t know why she has been pissy lately, but for whatever reason it is, I hope it goes away soon. I love her to death, but her grouchiness is not something I want to deal with constantly. I want her bright and smiling, not grumpy.

Elise shrugs, pressing her arms to my desk and resting her head on them, completely dismissing the conversation. I roll my eyes and bite my tongue, holding back any comments that are threatening to escape my pursed lips.

I get back to my work, leaving her to rest and sleep while I slave away at my desk, making sure that everyone that enters my office stays quiet while Elise sleeps.

“I don’t know who it was,” Elise’s voice distracts me as my eyes scan my screen of another portfolio.

I peer over and see her now sitting back up, her head no longer resting in her arms. “He had dark eyes, he uh… he pinned me against the wall, his hands were gripped on my wrist and he kept shouting at me.” She softly announces, her eyes dropping to her hands as they rest in her lap, my heart breaking as she takes a minute to breathe, “I just… they just… they were mad and I don’t really know why. I don’t know what I did. I was walking to see you and then it all happened so fast.” Elise whispers, her voice breaking as she attempts to hold back tears,

“Sweetheart,” I sigh, my eyes softening while my heart continues to break, “They threatened if I screamed, that it would be my last breath. I tried to push him off me, but he was stronger and kept forcing me into the wall, his hands just kept tightening around my wrists… I just… I..” Elle begins to stammer, a tear falling from her cheeks, “They wanted the keys to your building.” She reveals, my blood beginning to hum with rage as I come to terms with the fact that this is because of me.

The love of my life was manhandled by other men because of my business.

“Did you give it to them?” Elise shakes her head, “No,” her hand wiping away a few stray tears, “Sweetheart, I am so sorry. You should have given the keys to them.”

“I didn’t have them on me,” she shrugs,

“This is my fault,” … “I am meant to protect you, I promised your parents I would protect and look after you, and here you, with bruises on you.” I breathe out, picturing her bruises on her body from last night, my hand shakily touching one bruise and her flinching away from me.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“No, it is. They got to you because of me.” …. “Baby, I am so, so sorry. I failed you, but I promise I will do everything to find those pieces of shit, I will personally do it. I don’t want you to go anywhere alone,” I mumble, my own hands shaking as I hide them under my desk, not wanting her to see the rage that is humming through my veins.

I want to pounce on whoever even looks at her the wrong way, I am ready to take down the son of a bitch that touched her. I don’t care what it takes.

“Harry, it isn’t your fault. I will be fine, can we just… maybe… can you be home at night? I don’t want to be alone at night and I know it sounds childish, but just for a little while?” Elise asks me, her voice having a touch of vulnerability to it, something she never tends to show.

I instantly nod, “I will do what I can to be home by eight, is that fair?” I question, knowing that I need to compromise a few hours to make sure she is comfortable in her own house.

“Thank you. And, can you not go after these guys?”

I scoff at her comment, "You best believe I am going to deal with them.”

“Harry, I don’t really want you attacking them… I am pretty sure they are more dangerous than Charles.” Elise speaks softly, her eyes dropping back to her lap,

“Leave it to me, darling. Why didn’t you tell me when this all happened? You could have called me, I would have come to you instantly.”  I challenge, unsure of why she felt the need to keep such a secret from me.

We have never really kept secrets, she has always been the one to come to me with issues.

“How do I tell you that it was two unknown men that left the bruises on me? Two unknown men that that want access to your building, more specifically your vault. I am sorry, I was scared and I didn’t want to tell you, I didn’t want you to get mad at me, or anything. I panicked.” Elise begins to fully cry and I stand from my desk, shuffling over to her, caressing my hand to her back as she buries her face into her hands.

“Hey, you’re okay, I am not mad at you, come here darling,” I gently get her to her feet, drawing her into my arms where she buries herself into me and cries while I keep my arm securely around her.

“I’m sorry this happened, I promise to keep you safe, they won’t touch you again,” I assure her, my hand stroking her hair, as she continues to sob into me, her tears staining my shirt.

“I’m sorry, Elle.” I breathe out, not knowing what to say to her at this point in time.

My heart is just breaking with each tear that soaks my shirt. When I feel Elise sniffle and attempt to pull away from my chest, I unravel my arm from around her, dropping my hand to rest on her waist.

I give her a small smile, “I love you, remember that.” I whisper, my free hand resting on her cheek, my thumb wiping away a few tears, “No matter what, I love you, I always will. Never be afraid to talk to me or tell me something. I might get angry, but just know it is out of love.”

“I love you, too.” Elise sniffles, “Even when you call me crabby and tell me I am overly emotional,” She breaks a small smile, causing a chuckle to escape my lips,

“Well, even when you are grumpy and emotional, I love you,” I assure her with a smile before I kiss her lips lightly,

“I’m sorry. I stained your shirt.” Elise laments, gesturing towards my shirt, I glance down and discover mascara etched into my white shirt, an appearance that does not seem to be appealing, “And you have a meeting later, I am so sorry.” Her eyes glaze over, indicating more tears,

“Hey, hey, it is okay, baby. Don’t cry, I promise it is okay.” I promptly assure her, not wanting more tears to fall from her gorgeous eyes.

She sniffles a little and nods before I reach over and hand her a tissue, “Take deep breaths,” I instruct, unbuttoning my shirt and launching it to land over my briefcase before I wander over to my side of the desk, yanking open a drawer where I keep a spare shirt and tie. I have learnt my lesson multiple times with white shirts and coffee.

I now keep a spare in my drawer at all time just in case.

I pull on my new shirt, adjusting the collar before tying my tie, my eyes staying focused on Elise.

“Darling do you want to go to the bathroom and wash the mascara from your eyes?” I graciously offer, already offering my hand to her, escorting her out of my office.

I let go of her hand and wrap my arm around her, guiding her towards the bathroom while avoiding my workers. “Do I need to go get Anastasia? I don’t know how this makeup, crying thing works.” I offer, unsure of what goes on in the bathroom when tears have destroyed makeup.

Elise chuckles, leaning up and giving me a kiss, “If you want,” Elise nods,

“Okay, I will go get her, and then I will guard the door.” I give her a small smile before she walks into the bathroom.

I wander back down the hall and discover Niall perched over Anastasia’s desk, “Niall, are you hitting on my assistant?” I rascally laugh, observing as he directly straightens his stance and places his hands in the air in defence. “It is so easy to fuck with you,” I snicker before I turn to Anastasia, “Elle is in the bathroom trying to fix her makeup, I don’t know about any of that, so can you keep her company?” I respectfully request, distracting her from the task that I assigned her an hour ago.

Anastasia instantly nods, giving me a smile as she stands from her position at her desk, “Sure, and Mr.Horan was asking me about restaurants around here, I think he was hitting on me.” She giggles with a spacious grin, stepping around her desk and shuffling down the hall, glancing back at us over her shoulder.

I glance towards Niall, his cheeks blushing a crimson glow, a clear indication he has the hots for her, “Mate, no flirting in the workplace.” I pet his shoulder, “I think she has a boyfriend though.” I enlighten him, his eyes immediately decreasing as he frowns.

“I wasn’t flirting.”  He mutters in defence, his brow furrowed into a firm glower, completely and utterly appearing to be irritated.

“Uh-huh, sure yeh weren’t.” I tease, “Is that why you frowned when I said I think she has a boyfriend?” I smoothly nudge him,

“Oh, whatever.” Niall crosses his arms over his chest leaning against Anastasia’s desk, “Can you blame a lad for trying? She isn’t exactly horrid, Styles.” Niall points out and I shrug, not really caring how she looks. “I don’t know how Elise lets you work with her, she is hot.”

“Mhm, and have you seen my fiancee?” I challenge with a cocky smirk, more than happy to boast about Elise, I can't deny it, she is far out of my league, and not just with her looks, she is fucking gorgeous, but her mind and intelligence never fails to amaze me, she is so pure, caring, and beautiful all over, inside and out. I hit the jackpot with her.

“I have, she’s hot as-” I cut Niall off, knowing how he is going to finish his sentence,

“Don’t finish that.” I mutter, “I already know,” I grin, nudging Niall again playfully, “While you are gawking over my assistant, can you go over the files I gave you?” I request, remembering I gave him a few files to go over and make a decision on,

“I did,”

I raise a brow, surprised he got the work done so expeditiously, “What? How?”

“I don’t have a hot fiancee to come home too, so I slaved away. I was just about to ask if you still want me to dig into where Charles Taylor is; I have a lead on his whereabouts, along with information on Meyer and that building you had wanted.” Niall informs me and I nod, signalling for him to continue his research for me since he finished his share of our partnership.

While he does that, I hold my promise to Elise and guard the bathroom, mainly for my own sanity. I can’t help but feel guilty for the pricks that got ahold of her, the least I can do is make sure she is completely safe in my building.

Her and Anastasia eventually step out, Elise no longer with mascara stained cheeks, but a smile painted across her lips. “Thank you, Anastasia, you can get back to flirting with Niall now,” I smirk, taking Elise’s hand, getting a rise out of Anastasia blushing and biting her lip, unsure of what to say, considering I sign her paycheck.

By the end of the month, I bet those two will end up to be quite the item.

I accompany Elise back to my office, a heavy sigh coming from her lips as she steps inside, an indication she does not want to be cooped up in my office. “Do you want to go upstairs?” I offer sweetly, “I know you hate it, but it is the best I can do. You’re not going home alone.” I inform her firmly, not wanting her to go home to worry herself.

She gives me a shrug and I take it upon myself to answer the question for her, gently tugging her out of my office and shuffling towards the elevator.

“You’re wasting time that you could spend working, you know?” Elise speaks up as the doors’ open and we step inside, I hum a response, pushing the top floor and entering the code to it, the elevator instantly rising, taking us to the highest floor.

Elise steps out first and I take her hand, the two of us modestly walking down the hallway. I take the moment to notice how the marble tiles shine against the glowing illuminated lights, the few art pieces hanging on the wall aligned excellently, nothing being out of place, just how I like it.

"Well, did you bring the card?” I challenge, my hand reaching into my pocket when we reach our door. Elise glares up at me, “I am joking, don’t strangle me.” I mumble, pressing the card to the system, hearing the unlocking and the seeing the green light before I push the door open and allow her inside first.

I close the door and make sure to double lock the door with the latch so that even with a card, nobody can get in.

Elise kicks her shoes off and goes straight to the window, opening the extensive curtains to reveal the view below. I step behind her and gingerly wrap my arms around her, her back instantly resting against me. “I love you,” I remind her, kissing her warm cheek as her eyes stay focused on the view,

“I love you, too.” Her voice is delicate and sweet, melting my heart as she speaks.

“I was thinking we could stay here for a bit, I have a lot of work to do, it would be better for you to stay here, that way I am just a few minutes away if you need me,” I whisper, informing her of my opinions.

To my surprise, she doesn’t whine or complain, she just nods.

She habitually whines when I mention her staying in the Penthouse, she seems to hate being alone in it, but at the moment, her being alone in the Penthouse is better than her being isolated in the house that is at least twenty-five minutes from here, without traffic.

I heavily sigh and course my fingers through my hair, weary, and frustrated as my eyes continue to stare at my screen that has a list of dot points that need my attention. It seems like my work is never-ending, no matter how hard I try, there is always something on my plate that needs my attention. If it isn't work related, it is related to Elise.

My attention is dragged away from my screen as my phone vibrates against my desk. I peer down at it, expecting to see a text from Elise confirming that she is agreeing to go to dinner with me tonight. I figured the least I can do is take her out to her favourite restaurant and love on her a little bit before I have to leave for my business trip.

I am surprised when I see it is a text from my sister, a simple text.

"Our place in New York is being destroyed. Rumour has it, it is going to be demolished. This is sad, Harry. :( Love and miss you."

"I will look into it and see. I'll call you and Mum later. Love and miss you too. CEO. Styles.& Co -Harry”

I stare at my phone as I place it back on my desk, part of me feeling like part of me is missing at the idea of the building in New York being destroyed. Of course, Logan would be the one to destroy something that is meaningful to me, of course, he would be the one to kill something, period. He always destroys shit.

I remember the building like the back of my hand, I recollect how it used to be. It was not just some building that had no value, or a place that was run down. It was always kept well, always had people coming in and out of it. The building was a studio that was not just for the big time musicians. I remember my Dad took Gemma and me there when we were younger, the first time I stepped foot into the studio, I was around the age of six. It was right before Christmas, back then, all I wanted for Christmas was a guitar, a normal guitar that I could strum in the comfort of my room, something for me to learn. Walking into the studio for the first time, I remember how my eyes lite up when they saw all the guitars lined perfectly on the side, record labels lined the walls' and I felt like I was in paradise. My sister, she didn't really enjoy the atmosphere or the vibe, no. She was more into trying to take a peek at who was currently in the studio recording a song. I, to this day, still have no idea who was recording when I first entered, I was more amazed by the guitars and the owner.

As I got older, I kept going back to the same studio, finding it to be my safe haven. The owner was a loving guy, and always had his doors open to anyone that had a small hankering for music and melodies. Every Wednesday night he would close down the studio to recording and would allow anyone that wanted to learn the fundamentals of music and instruments into his studio. He would spend hours teaching and amazing young kids with dreams of being future musicians. I was one of the few that always showed up when I visited New York, the owner always seemed to gravitate to me and the way I would play any instrument with such grace.

When I was seventeen, right before I had to start University and buckle down, I dragged my sister to New York with me for the summer, we spent most of out time in and out of different, small coffee shops and stores, and every other night we would go to the studio where the two of us would sit the owner, talk, laugh, sometimes even cry, while also playing a few chords of out favourite melodies. Without a doubt, we would always end up humming and singing along to,  'I Don't Want To Be', by Gavin DeGraw. It seemed to always fit the scenes of my life.

"I don't have to be anyone other than the birth of two souls in one. Part of where I'm going is knowing where I'm coming from."

I never forget where I came from—a small rural area. I didn't always have the excellent house in a gated community or an Audi R8—I didn't always have the luxury to buy whatever I wanted or to buy my loved ones the gifts they deserved, sometimes all I could manage was a shirt and a pair of pants for my Mum and Sister on Christmas.

I always remember the struggles as a child and do my best not to forget where I came from, or how I grew up. I may have all the luxuries I could imagine and so many opportunities I didn't always have, but they are meaningless if I forget who I am. Just like everyone else, I came from two souls, forming one.

"I'm surrounded by liars everywhere I turn. I'm surrounded by imposters everywhere I turn, I'm surrounded by identity crisis everywhere I turn."

My work of choice doesn't always leave me in a room full of people that are clean cut and perfect, I haven't always been in the right crowd, or able to distinguish right from wrong, but I somehow learnt while being surrounded by imposters, liars, fakes, and just people in general that wanted me to fail as a person and as a business professional. I wasn't always clean cut and perfect, I have my ragged edges, I have my faults, flaws, and my past. I have changed from who I used to be, I have grown and become successful despite the setbacks and the people around me that would try to tear me down, and still, to this day, try to tear me down.

I remember the way the studio used to feel on Thursday nights, pleasant and peaceful, not many people got to witness the way it was in its darkest hours and in the quiet times. To me— it was beautiful— I spent hours with the owner, we composed a few songs, towards the end, he became more of a fatherly figure to me. He understood my thoughts and the way my hands moved across instruments better than anyone else. If anyone is ever fortunate enough to step foot in the recording booth, for whatever reason, they will find their eyes casting on a black wall that has a perfectly painted white rose on it, one very similar to the painting Elise and I bought back when we were in New York on my birthday. The rose on the wall is the same as the one tattooed on my arm— the exact same replica— the tattoo being one Elise trails with her fingers on many occasions.

I remember when I got the call that the owner had passed away, it was right before the weekend I proposed to Elise. I remember I distinctly sat at my desk and stared at the wall, my fingers gliding over the tattoo on my arm every so often while chills ran through me. I sent the best arrangments of roses I could find— I went to every florist in the city to get the best and the most roses I could collect— it was something I had to do, it was the only way I could express my gratitude for what the owner and his studio did for me. I may not be who I used to be when I was seventeen and playing the guitar, harmonising 'she will be loved', with my sister, but I am still the same seventeen-year-old who has a heart and a soul, one that who found a home in a place that wasn't his own— one that escaped a broken home to find a safe haven between the walls' of music and solidarity.

The perception of this building being demolished, crumbling to bits breaks my heart to pieces, it wasn't just a place my sister and I grew to love, it was a place a lot of people developed to adore and cherish. So many of us left our souls in that studio, leaving us behind in the walls' and the sweet harmony of what was once created.

Those walls' grasp more heartfelt lyrics than anywhere else— those walls' hold the character of others that will never be shared— they hold esoteric talent that will never escape. Personally, those walls' grip the part of me that I had to leave behind— the part of me that couldn't continue its journey when I went to University and became who I am today— they hold the thoughts and harmony of a seventeen-year-old who didn't have an understanding of the real world.

I shake my head at my thoughts and the memories I left behind in a city, in a building that held so much. I swallow my pride and call the scumbag that is destroying something that holds value and sentiment.

"Well, look at what I have here... Harry Styles is calling me," Logan answers the phone with that smug fucking voice that I want to knock out most of the time.

"Meyer, that building in New York, hand it over."

"Of course, darling. Anything for you. Do you want my bank card, too?" Logan scornfully comments, irking my nerves.

I take a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment, doing my best to stay calm and not storm out o f my office and go strangle his fucking ass. "I want the building Logan, don't be a prick," I mutter, knowing that I need to stay calm in order to get my investment.

"How's Elise, how is she going?"

"She is great, waiting for me upstairs, so if you can hurry this the fuck up, it would be great."

Logan chuckles, continuing to play on my nerves, just the tone of his voice is enough to send my blood humming into a rage, "Now, now. I don't like the tone of voice you're using with me. Do you think I am going to hand over the building?"

"What is it you want?" I sigh, knowing he is going to have some sort of price for the building. "I don't see why you have to be a damn prick. You did not need to come over into my territory and stick your nose in on my investments." I remind him of the fact he did not need to dig and get into my investment. It was mine. Not like I wiggled in on his shit.

"Business is business, Harry. I saw an opportunity. It was just a bonus that you also had an interest in it. Guess you should have stayed in town instead of going M.I.A for a weekend. What was more important than keeping an eye on it? Hmm."

God, his voice is annoying as fuck.

"I was proposing—if you must know. Now, what do you want?"

"Elise, I want Elise."

"She is not property to bargain over. She is my wife, get your own."

"You're not married, yet."

"Logan, you're pushing your luck with me."

"Then guess it is no deal," Logan draws out the 'no',

"Leave my fucking girlfriend out of this, damn you're an annoying ass, fuck."

"Now I see where Elise gets her feistiness from, have I told you how I quite admire when she gets pissy with me? Kinda cute."

"Meyer, I swear—" I am cut off by him,

"Alright, alright... You have me exiled from everything... Let's see." He hums, and I can picture him sitting at his desk, running his hand over his stubble as he grins, leaning back on his desk chair.

"No," I warn him, knowing exactly where he is attempting to lead.

He is exiled for a fucking reason. I fucking hate him and he doesn't like me.

"You're not making this easy. Hm.. what do I want? What do I want?" He purrs like a bothersome child that knows exactly what they want but they want to keep everyone hanging. "Tell you what. If you want to buy it from me for double the price, you can have it. Oh, and if you can give me inside scoop to a few things."

I lean my arms against my desk, my hand rubbing over the light stubble I need to shave before dinner, "Such as?" I challenge, unsure of what inside information he is wanting or needing from me. I am the one that needs his inside information. Like, why the hell he has mine and Elise' files on record. Not to mention why the hell he has our funds.

"Where is Charles Taylor?"

Logans question catches me off guard. I was not expecting that to be information he wanted. I have no idea where Charles is. The last I heard of him— I was sending him to catch his flight to New York— while beaten.

I shrug, "Don't know, hopefully rotting in hell."

"You're lying, you have an idea." .. "I want you to find out where he is."

"I am not the FBI, Logan. Why do you care?" I challenge, curious as to what he has running through that horrid mind of his. Surely, nothing good will come of him wanting to know Charles' whereabouts. With my luck, he will probably lure Charles back to the city and fuck things up. Logan is good at fucking up. He does it all the time.

"I want you to find him and I want you to keep him away from the city, make sure he stays far away from London."

"So you want double what you paid, and you want Charles out of London?" I challenge, making sure I am getting his requests correct.

"Mhm, if you want to throw Elise in that mix too, I would accept."

"Fuck off, Meyer... Not in the mood for your shit."

"I will have my assistant draw up the agreement."

"Don't you fucking dare think about making her do it tonight," I warn, knowing he is plausibly already getting ready to call Elise into work just to piss me off.

"Why? I may just need her to come into the office." Logan replies with a cocky tone to his voice, seeming amused by our conversation, I, on the other hand, do not find this amusing in the slightest. He just wants to rattle my cage.

"Logan, don't fuck with me. I am not in the mood. You are getting what you want."

"Partially, this conversation is not over, I will keep in contact. Always a pleasure, Harry."

"Mhm, whatever," I mutter.

I hang up my phone and stand to my feet, ready to call it an evening as Niall wanders in. I close my MacBook lid and grab my suit jacket from its position overhanging the chair.

"I have news." Niall brings to my attention, seeming somewhat delighted.

"Good, I hope?" I sigh, needing some good news after having to listen to Logan's vexatious voice.

He shrugs as he stands in front of my desk, "Charles last known location was South Carolina," Niall reveals, my hands slide my jacket up my arms.

"What the hell is he doing there?"

"I don't know, he seems to be all over, his next place of interest is Seattle," He informs me, my eyes growing wide as Niall nods his head, confirming I heard him right. "Yup, there is a chance he will be in Seattle with us." ... "That's not all, he is currently the one on the name of the studio in New York. Looks like Logan was double-crossed."

"Fuck, I just did business with Logan to get that building. Now what?" I ask, unsure of what my next move is about to be.

Niall thinks for a moment, "How's that back of yours?" He raises a brow as I grab my phone and shove it in my pocket,

I raise a brow, unsure what my back has to do with anything,"It is alright, why?"

"I mean, you could go after him and get what you want."

I laugh as I pull my jacket towards my front, "I think Elise would strangle me if I got myself into any more physical altercations. We will have to think of something on the flight." I sigh, my eyes flickering to the door as Elise walks in. I clear my throat and gesture subtly towards the door, signalling for Niall to drop the current conversation without making it obvious.

"So, I can take Anastasia out for dinner?" Niall questions with a grin smeared across his rosy red cheeks. I roll my eyes at him before I shrug my shoulders,

"If she says yes, knock yourself out," I respond as Elise stays towards the back of my office, not wanting to intrude. "Come on in Elle, Niall was just about to leave and get himself a date." I smile, gesturing for her to step closer. She gives me a timid smile and saunters closer, dressed in a Navy blue princess cut dress that ends just above her knee, a pair of nude heels, and her black coat around her to keep her warm.

"Elle, this is Niall. You guys can formally meet now, Niall Horan." I introduce the two of them, watching as Elise stares at me for a moment, bitterly confused before she smiles and greets Niall with her usual sweetness. "Alright, don't get attached, get yeh own date." I joke towards Niall as he flashes Elise a smile. He rolls his eyes at me before saying a rushed goodbye and stepping out.

I leave my full attention on Elise, tilting my head as I grin, completely admiring how beautiful she is. "You look lovely,"

"So do you." Elise leans up and kisses me, my hand resting on her waist as I deepen the kiss. "We are ging to be late," I whisper as I pull away from the kiss.

"Mmm, you need to shave." She benevolently presses her hand over my stubble, letting out a small chuckle as I screw my nose up, "Yeh getting a bit scruffy, darling," she chuckles cutely,

"I know, I know, I will before my flight," I respond, grabbing my things before taking her hand and leading her out of the office.

I watch as Elise seems to shift her food around her plate, barely taking bites as she stays relatively withdrawn. Usually, she is full of energy and happiness when I bring her to this restaurant, she also tends to dig into the food like there's no tomorrow.

She loves this restaurant, but tonight it is like she doesn't want to be here.

She glances up at me, her eyes gawking into mine, "You're staring." She arches a sly brow, watching me intently as I shrug my shoulders back. She flicks her eyes back to her food, finally taking a bite.

I do my best to keep some sort of conversation with her, but she just doesn't seem like she is too interested, she is reserved and withdrawn, something I don't see very much with her.

I cock my head to the side, observing her every small move. "Are you going to be okay if I go on this business trip?" I question, her eyes batting up at me before she nods, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Elise gives me a short response, "I will be fine, Harry." She assures me, flashing me a petite smile that I sense is fake.

I frown as I try to figure out what is coursing through her mind, but I stop the minute she pushes a few stray hairs behind her ear and her eyes gleam up at me. Without much effort on my behalf, she begins to speak, her voice being music to my ears as I hold onto every word that leaves her lips.

I catch her giggle softly at a few of my witty comments, her eyes lighting up for a few moments, part of me feeling warm inside with every snicker that echoes from her.

I can't help but sit here and stare at her in awe. I am so in love with the woman in front of me, she is everything I could ask for—she makes me feel whole. All round she is so beautiful, not just on the outside but on the inside— she is the girl that seventeen year old me would write songs about— she is the girl that would be incised between the lyrics of my journal, she is the girl  that has managed to keep me grounded, she sets me free, but also holds me down when I need it.

Her voice distracts me from my gaze, her eyes staring at me with their beautiful hue, shining under the restaurant lighting. "Harry? Were you listening?"

I give her a smile, nodding my head, "You're beautiful." I grin, her cheeks blushing cutely as she chuckles.

"Thank you," ... "So, for the wedding, I thought that maybe we could look at St Martin's in the Fields Church, and Westminster Cathedral for our ceremony and then for the venue, Syon Park, The Gherkin, or something. What do you think?" Elle asks me, my eyes still concentrated solely on her.

I haven't thought much on the locations of our wedding, to be honest, I have been imagining her wandering down the aisle straight to me. I can't wait to witness her walking down to me, to step down to our forever.

I nod my head, liking her current ideas, "They are lovely places, we can go check them out once I get back from, my business trip."

"Great. Do you have an idea for colours?" Elise challenges, her fork beginning to play with the food on her plate, again.

I crinkle my forehead, "Colours?" I clear my throat, unsure of what she means,

"A colour scheme."

"Uhm.. I don't know," I furrowed my eyebrows, attempting to think of what colour scheme I imagine would look charming.

I am not a wedding planner so I lack in this department.

"I was thinking Carmine, maybe a dark wine shade, but because it is May maybe a more spring associated colour? Perhaps a pastel shade?"

I shrug, not really caring too much about the colours, as long as she likes them, I am content, "Seems fine to me. Where do you want to go for the Honeymoon?" I challenge, observing as her eyes light up at the word 'honeymoon'.

"Hmm, somewhere nice and warm. I'd love to go to Italy or even Greece... Ohh, Paris would be nice."

"You have never been to Paris?"

"No, remember we were going to go two years ago but the stock market crashed and your business got in a rut for a little?"

"Oh yeah. Sorry 'bout that darlin'. I promise to take you to Paris eventually." I assure her, remembering that period of time I had dedicated to taking her to Paris, only for things to go south with my business.

I open the door and allow Elise to step out before me, the slightly chilly air rushing around us almost instantly, spring not really ushering out the bitter cold. "Can we go back home? I know we agreed on a movie but I just want to get home." Elise softly asks me as we step outside the restaurant,

"Yeah, are you okay? You've been quiet. You were fine when we were talking about the wedding and then you went quiet, again." I challenge, taking her hand in mine as we step down the steps,

She gives me a shrug, "Don't feel that great, I'm fine though, just kinda tired." She responds, something about her making me feel uneasy, I can't quite pinpoint what it is about her that is off.

"Do you want to wait inside and I will go get the car so you don't have to walk?" I offer, unsure of what is going on with her.

I have brushed her iffiness off for most the night, disregarding it as being part of an after reaction to being manhandled in public by random guys. I can only imagine the worry that is floating through her mind that she is doing her best to hide from me.

I take Elise’s coat in my hands as she slides it from her arms, her feet kicking off her heels. “You okay, Elle?” I ask, becoming a little sceptical as to what’s going on with her.

She doesn’t seem herself and to be honest, she hasn’t seemed herself for a few weeks. She hums a response, getting changed into more comfortable clothes as I grab my suitcase and begin to pack the clothes I will need for my trip. I probably should have done this earlier, but oh well.

I gaze up from my suitcase to see Elise staring at me, her lips curved into a bit of a pout, “now, darling. None of that.” I lean over my suitcase and peck her lips before she wiggles herself to rest against the headboard and the pillows, her hands bringing one of the decorative pillows to rest over her stomach, her arms hugging around the pillow.

“Do you have to go?” Her voice is low and soft and I nod, “can’t you stay?”

“Usually you’re happy for me to go,” I chuckle, “I can’t stay, baby. I’ll be back in like a week and a half,” I continue, throwing a sweater into my suitcase.

Elise heavily sighs, watching each item I place into my suitcase, instantly grunting when I throw in my black sweater. I raise my eyes to look over at her, her eyes beaming at me already, I smirk as I bring my black sweater back into my hands, "Baby, do you have something to say?" I chuckle, knowing very well and good she wants to keep the sweater for herself.

She swings her legs over the edge of the bed and wanders over to me, leaning up and kissing my cheek as her hand clutches my sweater clasped between my fingers, "I love you," she mumbles, taking the sweater from my hands as anticipated.

I smile, playfully shaking my head as she steps around me and places my sweater over on her side of the room, leaving me to pack without her gawking and stealing my clothes.

I frown when I hear a moan as I place the last button up neatly in my suitcase. I step away from the edge of the bed, the dim light from the bathroom creeping passed the half-open door of the master bathroom.

“Elise, are you okay?” I raise a brow, unobtrusively stepping into the bathroom, observing as her fingers are curled under the counter top, her back arched with her head bowed.

She lifts her head and glances over at me, her eyes seeming a bit dull and dark, “I’m not feeling too well, that’s all.” She takes a deep breath and I step closer, caressing my hand to her back, feeling her wince at my touch. I draw my hand away, instantly, and resort to gathering her hair away from her face, and rubbing my hand up and down her arm as she takes a few deep breaths.

She raises her head, “I’m okay, keep packing.” She adjusts her posture and stands upright, her hands leaving the counter top before she turns to face me. “You have a flight to catch in a few hours, pack.” She gestures towards the bedroom,

I sigh, wishing I knew exactly what was going on with her, maybe she is coming down with the flu? I really do not know.

Elise climbs up on the bed and rests against the pillows, watching me as I move my hands around my suitcase, zipping it up.

I don’t know what’s going on with her, she doesn’t seem to want to talk to me, she just stares and watches my every move— I honestly don’t know what I’m meant to do.

“Elise, how have you been feeling lately?” I challenge, paying close attention as she rests her hand on her stomach,

She gazes at me with a puzzled expression, “besides getting attacked and bruised? fine.” She references the two men, somewhat pissing me off as the words leave her lips, but I stay composed.

“How long have you not been feeling well?”

She cocks her head to the side and thinks for a moment, “Just today and the night I was working with Logan,” she responds, wiggling slightly against the pillows to get more comfortable.

“How did you feel that night?”

“I was sore and had a headache, why?” .. "Anxious too since I found that damn file." She continues, reminding me of the file that I still have yet to grasp in my fingertips.

“Have you been eating breakfast?”

Elise shrugs, “Not really,”

“Why?” I interrogate, not wanting to come off as an overly protective boyfriend, but something is up with her and I want to know what the hell it is.

“I haven’t had time and hadn’t had an appetite at six in the morning, why? You’re acting weird.” She mutters,

“You barely touched your dinner tonight,” I comment, remembering how she essentially pushed her food around her plate,

“I don’t feel well, where are you going with this?” Elise questions, giving me a peculiar look as she studies my features.

“You’ve been emotional and grumpy,”

“Okay, your point? Harry, what’s that brain of yours thinking? I can’t read between the lines.”

“You’re on the pill still, right?”

“Yes, Harry.” Elise sighs, seeming frustrated with my questions and lack of answers.

“Sweetheart, are you sure you’re not pregnant?” I finally let the question fall from my lips, an interrogation I had not anticipated to have to ask for at least a few more years. Neither of us is ready or prepared for a child, she has made it quite clear she does not want to have children.

Elise shakes her head, "Harry, I am on the pill," ... "Oh," she breathes out, her eyes lowering to her lap,

"Oh?" I gulp, her expression and the tone of her voice doesn't seem too appealing.

"I.. I, fuck." She mutters, "I haven't gotten my period." Her voice is low yet full of apprehension, my own body becoming excessively concerned.

I am not sure I can handle a baby right now, I don't think either of us can. Especially Elise.

"How late are you?" I gulp, my legs nervously shaking as I wait for her answer.

Elise shakes her head at me, "It is stress, I am sure," she clears her throat, "With everything with you, Logan, and just things in general, I am kinda suffocated and stressed." Elise reveals and I nod, taking her word for it. She knows her body better than I do, I can see why she is stressed. I just haven't thought about how things have been weighed on her. I have been a bit self-involved.

I have been in Seattle three days and Niall and I have still yet to properly come up with an adequate statement to ensure that our client should trust us with their financial funds. The two of us seem to have ducked in water deeper than we can handle; I am not use to having to fight for a business deal, usually, I just have to throw a few pitches out there and the client is in, but this deal, this is going to prove to be a very tough one.

Managing large sums of money for an institution that has many other business potentials wanting to close the deal with them, I can't help but be on edge. I don't like failing, I don't like to feel as if I am failing, but right now, I am failing with this deal. The financial market is not working in my favour either, it seems to be moderately declining against me. I press my fingers to my temple as Niall heavily sighs, his eyes focused on my MacBook screen as he stares at the shitty proposal we have.

My phone vibrates and I see it is Elise calling,

"Hey, darling," I answer, a small smile painting across my lips,

"Hey, are you busy?"

"A little, I am trying to prepare for my meeting in an hour. What's the matter?"

"Did the business world crash or something? Logan is being a real dick, did you know he only likes his sandwiches toasted? And he also doesn't like Red wine?"

"No, Elle, I did not." I chuckle, "He has always been a dick. Well, the business world isn't too hot, the stock market is not looking good."

"Oh no, is that going to affect us a lot?"

"I am not sure, love. Don't worry about that though, leave it to me. Baby, I need to go and get this done with Niall, I'll call you after the meeting, I love you."

"Good luck, I love you too. Go get 'em." Elise chuckles before we both hang up.

I turn to Niall, his lips forming in a smirk, "I love you, I love you too." He mimics me, trying to use my deep accent.

I roll my eyes at him, gesturing towards my MacBook, the two of us putting our attention fully back to our work, occasionally becoming side tracked when we hit a dead end.  

I slam down my shot of whisky, my glass hitting the bartop as I let out a heavy breath, Niall doing the same. Neither of us expected to have fucked our proposal, for some reason, we were not good enough, the potential client did not seem interested with us in the slightest, he did not seem interested in anyone. He was emotionless, blank, all he could manage was a deadpan expression. I might as well have been throwing a pitch to a fucking monkey or to the wall. I could get more of an interest out of my God daughter who is two.

I drum my fingers harshly against the bartop, my mind rattling. I turn to Niall, bitterly disappointed with this evening's happenings, "We need to get another meeting with him. We are fucked if we don't. I have a forty percent buyout on the table to invest in... But if this proposal flops, and the stock market declines, I will be fucked." I mutter, shaking my head at the bartender as he offers me another drink.

I do not need to drink, not until I am safe and sound in the hotel. I still have another hour and a half before I can get to the comfort of my hotel room.

Niall sighs, forking his fingers through his hair for the third time before he turns around, leaning his back against the bar, "We need a backup. We are in a room full of business men. We need to find one that needs us more than we need them...Say, the one with the pretty blond in the red dress." Niall subtly gestures towards a man and a woman grabbing flute glasses from the waiter.

I shake my head, "They don't need us, he is linked to a few top guys... His net worth is more than both of ours combine," I inform Niall, cocking my head to the side, trying to scan the room for an easy opportunity.

Niall hums, crossing his arms over his chest, his dark eyes doing the exact same as my own, prying for prey, "What about the brunette in the purple dress? she looks sophisticated."

"And that she is," I nod, "But, she is associated with Logan. That is not territory I can not trespass on. She takes gambles with the stock market, I wouldn't gamble with her, she could destroy us."

With so many people in the room, so many of them being investors, businessmen and women, none of them seem to be appropriate enough for the type of proposal I am after. I don't want a gamble, I want something that is steady and set in stone. I need someone that is not going to become bankrupt if things collapse. I predict a downfall, and I do not want to be in the middle of any uncertainties when it happens.

Here, Niall and I stand surrounded by many people, situated in the largest city in the Northwest of the United States. . Seattle is the 29th most competitive city in the world. Home of Microsoft headquarters, a major company that sparks wonders within the society of business. Seattle receives an economic strength ranking of 28th, globally. It ranks Number one among U.S. cities for human capital. And yet, I have seemed to have failed my proposal as a business man and can not seem to get a grip of a second plan.

My eyes take one last glance around the area, dipping up and down, around the crowd to see if anyone can be drawn into my clasp. I cock my head the side, my eyes settling on a man that seem familiar. I clench my jaw at the sight of the figure, my eyes narrowing to crinkled slits as the man comes further into view. I unrelentingly stare him down with a tall erect posture.

I don't know when he slithered through the door, but he seems to have skulked on the edges of the crowd, not trying too hard to be seen, nor trying to be concealed. His nystagmic eyes meet mine and every fibre in body begins to go fucking insane. Every part of me wants to battle my way through the melee, to viciously yank him away from the crowd and pin him against a wall, to hover over him with malice like a threatening storm. I want to rip through him like a tornado on a path of destruction; I want to fucking destroy him; I want to finish the job I started. I want Charles Taylor to ultimately pay.

Thoughts? Opinions? What do you guys think? I really love to hear your reactions and responses/ what you think will happen next. Xx