London, 8 Kensington Palace Gardens


A ray of the morning sunlight caressed her soft cheek. Still asleep after a long night. The soft smell of new sheets. Jasmine aroma lingering in the room, emanation of the flowers light in the room. Her fingers daintily cradling in the covers. The texture, silky, flowing in between her legs. The pillows equal to a white halo around her spread curls. The brown hair elegant, sculpting Amber's face. She's there sleeping in a king bed, white and beige sheets woven with the blond wood.

Suddenly she woke up. Her eyes wide and alert. Where is she, where am I? What time is it? She had to be at ENB studios at 11 to warm up! She stood up and saw that she was still wore last night's dress. It made her think of M. Styles. Or "Harry" as she moaned last night. She shivered, blushed, her fresh cheeks flushed crimson. She remembered his wild- and roughness. Her gut ignited. Unconsciously trailing her fingers on the places he touched, caressed, kissed. No! She didn't like it! She couldn't like it! How could she like something so disrespectful? Quickly she tried to forget him. Her purse on the night table. She ripped it open and searched for her cellphone.

9h30 am. A few missed calls, Eleanor probably. But she didn't care. Back to her calm, composed self. The thought of Harry's touch pushed to the back of her mind. She had to concentrate on her performance. She crept out of the room, quietly, trying not to make a lone noise. She stepped into a long sunlight hallway with wide windows. The old light wood on the floor, covered by oriental carpets. Through the windows she could see an inner court. A beautiful fountain springing to life in the middle of the maze of grass and plants. She was memorized by the simplicity and the beauty of it.

She never went home last night, she must be at M. Styles house. A tinge of nervousness tickled her stomach. What did she do? Oh yes, she fell asleep on the stairs. Left him hanging after almost having sex with him. Well that was not going to be an awkward morning, she thought to herself. Only a few steps later, she found the wooden staircase and walked down hoping she wouldn't bump into him. Why was she so self conscious? Usually she just wouldn't have cared, passed them and leave with an obnoxious look. Iciness and composure defined her. No storm should destroy that balance. Only ballet, not a man. Especially not Harry Styles.

The coldness turned her blue electric eyes into the plethora depths of mysterious ocean. At the bottom of the stairs, what seemed to be a butler, was waiting for her.

"- Miss Lorentz, M. Styles already left for work, but would you enjoy some breakfast?", he ask very politely, unlike his employer.

"- I'll be fine. Thank you very much, but I'd rather leave now.", she answered on the same tone. A hint of relief, immediately noticed by the old man.

The butler rose an eyebrow. This girl didn't want to stay, hoping for M. Styles to come back, how unusual. She seemed hurried. She left his room last night after all, more than willingly. She was probably the only girl he did not have to throw out. Still, she fell asleep right where he was standing this morning. M. Styles even carried her to one of the guest rooms. Never he had seen his employer take care of a woman who refused him. If someone ever resisted him...

But now, seeing how scared she acted, he probably did it to annoy her. Making her feel pressured. Do everything so guilt and desire rises in her core. Make her mind go wild about him. He's ego shattered just by a simple rejection. This morning he even wondered if he could miss work. A sweet gesture the old butler thought at the time. But now his foxy eyes saw: it was just to piss her off during breakfast. M. Styles probably felt like the scores aren't even. She definitely won the last round. That's how his mind functioned, everything was a competition.

"Young people these days...", he almost mumbled out loud. Although it was still nice to see, someone he could not own. Especially a woman. M. Styles was a hard nut to crack. Young leader of a transnational firm, he is used to destroy what stands in his way. Hardships shall be overcome, beaten, not embraced in warm sheets. The old man hoped he wouldn't crumble her... With a swift gesture he led the young woman outside, hoping she would someday come back.

Notes

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