I never went to the funeral.

Something in me snapped, the idea of leaving the smothering comfort of my bed too much effort for my brain to contend with. Now several months later I still couldn’t bring myself to go to the grave. It was probably the finality of it all. The idea that a single stone could signify the existence of someone that I still half expected to walk through the door smelling of smoke and the sea. I still wore the ring. I should have returned it, given it to his family as a reminder even though I knew that Jane would insist that I keep it but something in me couldn’t let go of it. It was one things that still reminded me of him, of what had been.

It was the threat of losing my job, and the one thing that kept me sane that had pulled me from the white walls of my barely lived in apartment. I didn’t know how I could keep it now that it was just me. But I didn’t think I’d be able to let go of it. My heels clicked like the ticking of a clock as I approached the small corner office that I had been packed off to upon hiring. I had never quite taken the time to decorate it myself so it was covered in knickknacks and post cards from when Carter had taken it upon himself to bring a little it of joy to the space.

The small pile of pink message slips reminded me that I shouldn’t have taken a four day weekend. Everyone called Wednesday the mid-week slump but my work week was just starting. Nelson Procter, written in bold across the top message had me picking up the phone before even turning on the computer. I wondered what exactly the illustrious and supreme commander of the office, as we had taken to calling him, wanted. He had a reputation of grabby hands and preying on the younger members of his staff.

“Hello?”

“Hi Mr. Proctor, it’s Izzy Cross from IT, there’s a message on my desk saying that you rang me.”

“Ah Izzy, there is a meeting this evening that requires your attendance. If you would come up to my office at the soonest convenience I will explain everything.”

Agreeing to come up after I had finished my messages I managed to drag the checking and answering of emails for an entire hour in a sense of dread. I detested late nights at work. It was one thing back when I was doing something that I loved but now that my job was purely to fill numbers into an excel sheet and file organize paperwork I lived for three o’clock. So it was with heavy feet and an even heavier heart I managed to drag myself to the door of Mr. Proctor’s office.

“What do you know about Styles Enterprises?” Looking at me over the top of a large manila folder Mr. Proctor thankfully got right to the point.

“It’s the biggest hedge fund in Pacific City, holding the investment funds of the wealthiest in the city as well as one of the largest import and export capitals on the western seaboard. Headed by Richard Styles.”

“Richard Styles is dead.”

I slightly remember something to that extend in the news. The city mourning on ceremony one of the elite although most people were glad he was dead. Mr. Styles had made many enemies out of the best people and friends out of the worst. I’d heard rumors about businesses run out of the back of fronts and meetings at the docks at all hours of the night but nothing had ever been confirmed. Either Richard Styles was the philanthropist that he showed the world or if the king of the underworld if the rumors were true. But now he was dead and I blamed the dark days for never taking the time to notice.

“His son Harry is now taking his place.”

Now that was a name I knew. Playboy extraordinaire, he wasn’t worth much more than his trust fund as his moral steadfastness was worth nothing. If he was in charge of the company it was likely due for a reign more reckless than that of his father.

“I have a business dinner tonight to discuss a deal between the two companies and I’d like you to join us.”

There was something in his tone that told me that I didn’t have much of a choice and that I was going to be working another late night. But why he had chosen me, a low level IT tech instead of someone in the management was beside me.

“Me sir?” I stuttered out in a last ditch effort to get out of it.

“You managed to clean up well at the holiday party when you were on the arm of that fiancé of yours and it’s no secret that Mr. Styles is partial to pretty girls.”

So that’s what it was. I was to be nothing more than a dressed up doll. A harlot of a bargaining chip to provide a distraction at dinner to try and make Harry Styles more open to business dealings. Why he had chosen me instead of Cecelia from financing or Ingrid his secretary baffled me but I knew that I wasn’t going to get out of it.

“What time?” I consented.

“8pm sharp at the Rue Amelie ask HR if they can get you settled with a dress that’s appropriate for the evening. Oh and Miss Cross.”

I paused at the door not wanting to be in that dark, stifling office for a moment longer.

“Condolences on your loss.”

It was his words that hit the hardest. A callous reminder to the event that I was trying so hard to forget. Maybe if I could forget him, wipe all the memories good and bad from my mind it would make it easier. But it was hard to wipe the last three years of my life away like they’d never happened. And so I was stuck nodding in thanks every time that someone acknowledged that my life would never be the same.

Attempting keep the dark cloud from its gripping control on my mind I forced a smile on my face that likely looked more like a grimace as I yet again steeled my nerved. I had too much actual work to do before I had to become Harry Styles’ distraction.

Notes