┏ a quick witted
private investigator
is hired to catch a
mischievious culprit
on the run. with the
rogue's virtuoso and
nefarious plays, it
became a game of
cat & mouse for the
two. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: ┛
❝ drop your pistol, swift.❞
...
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┏ ❝ do you hate me or do you wanna date me? its kinda hard to tell cause your eyes are crazy ❞ ┛
"DO I REALLY NEED THESE HANDCUFFS?", The woman shows him the metal binding her skin, making it unable for her to move her hands.
Harry ignores her as they walk towards an interrogation room. She rolls her eyes, hating how he's really impassive.
"Yes—or who knows, you'll be choking me again."
Taylor smirks, "Well, in fact. I really would like that." There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice. Harry just wanted to take a tape from his room and paste it on her annoying little petty mouth.
"I know what you're thinking. You want to tape my mouth."
"Well, you're just forcing me to do it by now. You might as well just shut up or I'm gonna grab one from my room."
"Well, don't. You'll ruin my lipstick."
She giggles crazily, crossing her legs as she makes it rests on the table in front of Harry while she sits on the chair. She feels a wave of pride rush on her aura, knowing her legs were putting on a desirable image in front of him. By the look of him licking his lips, she knows she's done it.
Harry shakes his head, this has gone too far. This woman was trouble to him. She kept wasting his time, and she's still doing it. She has this certain way of making you lose your thoughts, and she always takes advantage of that.
He slowly and carefully takes a knife out of his pockets, gripping it lightly as he checks it out. He traces the knife on the walls, drawing out the words.
"Respect." He says lowly.
Taylor silently reads it out as she continues watching him, her legs still placed on the table. With threatening green eyes, he looks at her sharply—indicating he wasn't playing this time already.
"Respect." He repeats again, his voice cold and dark. His right hand plays with the knife, as the other tucks into his hands tightly.
Taylor watches him slowly walk towards her like a wolf approaching his predator, making her lean back on the chair to the point where it almost falls, her legs already placed to the floor as she tries to stay grounded. Only a mere inch separates them in the air.
"I demand respect. I want respect. Never dare to place your filthy shoes on my fucking table. Don't put even a single trace." His voice was hushed in a whisper, Taylor doesn't move, alarmed by his current manner. "Understand?" She nods slowly, her chest falling and rising abruptly due to her breathing.
She doesn't say anything. Speechless.
The man shakes his head, feigning pity as he trails the knife on her jaw slowly and seductively. It sure was a pleasant sight, it looked so vacant—as if it was begging to be kissed.
Her breath grew more ragged as he leans toward her, his smooth pink lips brushing her ears as he whispers. "Say you fucking understand—or you'll see worse."
She notices his stare pooling on her lips, this is the third time he's done it. She was surely counting—and she loved the thrill. She wonders when this temptation of him to kiss her finally takes over him.
"Touch me if you dare."
"Is that a challenge?" He replies with a question, the knife now travelling down her chest—very near to the valley between her breasts, just above the hem of her shirt.
"I'm sure you aren't going to kill me."
"Don't be too sure of that."
"If you wanted me dead, I'd already be dead. You already had the chance all day."
Harry frowns at her answer, it was true, and by the look of his face—it was obvious he knew she was right.
She continues smiling, it annoys Harry deeply. He desperately wants to take that annoying grin on her face.
"Are you getting off on this?"
He replies, "I quiet enjoy the view."
Harry stays silent for a few seconds, before finally finding a perfect phrase to continue his words. "—but I think I've seen better." He says before leaving her as he sits back on his chair.
He adjusts his necktie with a smirk as he looks at her offended face. He could notice a small hint of jealousy in her eyes.
"Okay, let's start the interrogation now. I hope you'll cooperate deliberately and politely for our time to be brief." He takes advantage of her silence to start talking. "So—I'd like to ask a couple of questions. And you answer."
"Asshole."
Harry ignores her. "Okay. I'm a private investigator, completely different from a cop. I'm not from the law enforcement but I carry out jobs for my clients. So, technically, I can't arrest you—but I have the right to interrogate you."
"I'm not a fucking kid I already know that."
"Well, you act like one." He rolls his eyes. "Now, would you please tell me what's your motive behind your actions? Mr. Hans has said this has been a planned action of yours. Every member of the company's board have received threats by you. If he sues you, you may be placed behind bars."
"You know what, Mr. Styles? Mr. Han is one stupid pig. Never fall for any of his lies, not even one."
Harry nodded at her words. He crosses his fingers on the table, listening to her intently. So she does indeed have some motive. Hatred alone is a motive.
"Harry, I have no hatred for any of my friends nor strangers. I don't like to dwell my nose in other bushes. But if you go against me, be sure to never underestimate my intelligence. It insults me."
"Did Mr. Hans do one such thing?"
"That fucking pig did. I hope he'll regret it soon."
"What made you think of this?"
Taylor takes a deep breath, letting out a sigh before glancing to the sides. She didn't want to answer yet.
"Get me some ice cream."
She demanded like a little child asking for a toy. Her face was contorted in rage. Her jaws clenched as she stares at him.
"Some what?" Harry narrows his eyebrows, a crease forming in between. Those weren't the words he expected to hear.
"Just get me some fucking ice cream."
▬▬▬
HAROLD GET HER SOME FUCKING ICE CREAM. anyways, hope yall enjoyed this short chapter.
now, harry should really get taylor some ice cream.
