Siren

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I FOLLOW HARRY INTO HIS APARTMENT, watching as he loosens his tie en route to his bedroom. I step out of my shoes and place them next to the couch and throw my clutch onto the coffee table.

When the movie finished, it was time for cocktails and conversation. Everyone wanted to talk to Harry and I and for the first time, I felt as if I actually belong where I am even if I have written myself into A list society. Gwyneth Paltrow couldn't get enough of my outfit and I still wasn't over it. In the moment, I had no time to be star struck. But now, sitting on the sofa in Harry's flat with London lit up behind me, I'm in awe. They acted like they had been reading about me for years instead of weeks; that I've been a face in their crowd since I was a baby and they had watched me grow up. It has been much easier than I thought it would be to become one of them.

"Would you like another drink?" Harry asks. He's now in a pair of sweats and a black tshirt, the swallows on his collar just peaking out the top hem of his shirt. He crosses the living room and makes his way to the kitchen. I stand and follow him, popping myself up onto the counter top.

Harry adds three pieces of ice to a small glass and pours and amber liquid over the ice. He looks to me, holding a wine glass up.

"No thank you," I reply. I had enough at the cocktail party and if I have any wine, I'll fall asleep in minutes and miss a chance to get to know Harry Styles.

He places the glass on the counter and leans back, closing his eyes.

"You look amazing tonight," he says, his voice low and sleepy. I smile at this statement. He's told me multiple times throughout the night that I look gorgeous, but each time I find myself wondering if each statement is a random thought or a scripted line he was unsure he used.

I smile and take his long frame in. He's gorgeous and I'd love to call him mine; I know that I could fall for him. So hard. But right now, our relationship is a project, one that I am reaping the benefits of.

"I am going to call my real estate agent," he mumbles. "We'll go out this week and find you a new flat." He grabs his glass and crosses the kitchen to me. The glass is placed next to me and he stands between my legs, his forehead pressed against mine, his gaze on our fingers laced together in my lap.

There is a moment of complete silence, one in which I can only hear our competing breaths.

"Are you okay?" I ask, not able to shake the uneasy feeling from earlier. His gaze shifts and the green of his eyes knocks my breath away. His eyes really are something else entirely.

"I could fall for you," he says as if he is issuing a sentence. His gaze drops at the same time my heart leaps. When he says things like this, it becomes hard to remind myself that this relationship is for my job. Tammy Davis asked how far I would go for my job, and this is testing just that. Am I willing to break the heart of London's Heartthrob for my own gain?

"I'll catch you," I say without a second though. Knowing that it's what I need to say, and that, if the circumstances were different, I would be able to.