Always A Pleasure || H.S. [COMPLETE]

Forty-Three

Harry was just about to meet Katherine on the beach where she was waiting for him naked in the hammock when he so foolishly picked up his phone to see if he had missed any calls from work. When his father's name lit up the notification on the home screen Harry froze, staring at it. His father rarely called him. He only ever called him for business. It was the only relationship they had.

But the fact that it was his father's name on his notifications and not his assistant's, gave him pause. He heard more from his assistant than he ever did his father when it came to most things, so seeing that Desmond Styles actually took the time out of his day to call him directly meant it was an urgent matter.

Harry sighed, knowing he couldn't ignore it no matter how badly he wanted to. Even though he was on holiday, it didn't negate the fact that he was CEO of the company— and the company always came first.

"Harry," his father answered in the smarmy way he seemed to always lead with.

"You rang?" Harry questioned. No greeting of any kind. That wasn't the kind of relationship he had, nor wanted, with his father.

"You're out of the country?" Des questioned immediately, causing Harry to grit his teeth together.

The last thing he wanted was for his father to find out that he took a holiday. He knew he wouldn't hear the end of it, even though in his tenure as CEO, Desmond Styles took many a holiday at the expense of the company and wrote them off as business trips. Harry was at least taking his holiday out of pocket.

"Brandenburg is in charge while I'm away," Harry stated evenly, knowing full-well that the company was in good hands with the COO at the helm for the short week Harry was away.

"You think you can just fuck-off and fly your little concubine to some far away destination and completely shirk your responsibilities to this company?"

"Desmond," Harry growled lowly, his annoyance ever-present. Pot, meet kettle.

"Well, I'm here to tell you that's not going to fucking happen," his father lectured him.

"What the fuck are you on about?" Harry asked impatiently.

"I'm not going to Tokyo," his father stated bluntly.

"What the fuck do you mean you're not going to Tokyo? You're going to fucking Tokyo, Desmond," Harry snapped, growling out his father's name again.

"I don't think I am, Harry," he snapped back, exaggerating his name in the same manner.

"That's the fucking plan. You made the fucking plan— months ago," Harry seethed.

"Yes. And months ago, I was CEO of the company that I created and built," his father pointed out bitterly.

"That's what you're on about? Because the board voted you out as CEO? You're being a vindictive, petty—"