Chapter 12: Risk

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CHAPTER 12

Harry hands me a steaming bowl of chicken which I accept gratefully. I take a bite and immediately regret it; the stuff is still scorching and burns my tongue. I spit it back out and hope Harry doesn't notice. Thankfully, his back is still turned as he pulls out two water bottles and then hands one to me.

"Our housekeeper, Emma, packs up leftovers for the freezer here so that I have something to eat when I work late," he explains. I suspect he's just trying to make conversation so we don't have to sit and stare awkwardly at each other while our food cools.

"Our housekeeper?" I repeat. What if he has a girlfriend? Or worse, a fiancé? Harry and I may be good friends, but we've never discussed that aspect of our lives with each other.

"Edward," he says. Relief washes over me and I will the voice in the back of my head to stop cheering in victory.

"I didn't realize he lives with you."

"Technically, I live with him," Harry cracks a small, lopsided smile. "When your grandfather lives on thirty seven acres in a mansion with five garages and live-in servants, it seems a little ridiculous to buy a condo."

I try not to let the shock show on my face. I knew that Edward and Harry were loaded, but thirty seven acres? Really?

"Wow, I guess I understand. That's a huge place even for two people," I say. My casserole seems to be cooled somewhat, so I hesitantly take a small bite. The temperature is just right, and it's also surprisingly delicious.

"Yeah, I know. Edward keeps telling me I need to get settled down and have a family so we can have some kids running around the place," he tells me.

I look at him with a surprised expression. It's the first time he's said something remotely personal about himself to me, so I take another bite of children and chew slowly as he continues.

"He wants great-grandchildren. He tells me every day," Harry finishes wryly.

I have no idea what I'm supposed to say so I just pop another chicken into my mouth. At the rate I'm going, I'll be finished before Harry even takes his first bite.

Harry's still silent by the time I swallow, so I say, "Well, it shouldn't be that hard to find someone who wants to settle down with you, right? I mean, with your reputation and everything."

He raises his eyebrows. "My reputation?"

"You know, just the fact that you're known as the sex god of the New York business world. Girls rave about the handsome looks of the Harry Styles," I say dramitcally. "My job is probably highly coveted by every woman in the office."

"Hmmm, although all of that is very true," Harry smirks and I roll my eyes, "You forgot one thing."

"And what is that?"

"I don't do relationships," he says, looking right at me. "And I certainly don't plan on getting married, ever."

For some reason his words feel like a knife to the heart. I can't help but wonder if he's trying to send me a message that if I have any feelings for him I should smash them to pieces with the black heels I'm wearing. I should be glad, relieved even, that he doesn't want anything to do with me.

Then I remember the way he looked at me the other day after I gave him that massage and feel confused. One minute he's looking at me like I'm a chocolate cluster and the next he's telling me he doesn't do relationships.

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