Lucre | h.s

Chapter 1.

Harry's POV.

"Mr Styles." My cheerful assistant Tara walks into my office, a file clutched into her frail arms. However she doesn't seem to be as cheerful as usual. Her brown hair bounces and her heels click against the marble floor before she stops in front of my desk.

"Yes?" I snap my head up, allowing her to have my attention.

"We have a dilemma.." She looks down at her feet before placing the file on my desk.

"What now?" I snarl, quickly taking the file into my own hands, flicking through it. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with it which made me become more curious than angry. But that was until she revealed we were missing the most vital part. We were missing the model.

"The model we had for the front cover just cancelled for next week as did our backup." Tara announces and I throw the file in my hands onto my desk in anger. 

"Are you fucking kidding me?" My voice raises as does my temper. Who in their right mind would cancel on me? 

This is just what I fucking needed. All day this week something has gone wrong with the bloody magazine and my business partner Zayn is in fucking Milan, being utterly helpless. 

"I tried contacting Zayn but he hasn't reached back yet." She informs me as if I didn't know how useless he was being right now. I had to run my own fashion line, working on new designs for an upcoming launch and this magazine I run with Zayn had completely eaten at my schedule this entire week. I felt like putting my head through the wall in anger. 

"Of course he hasn't." I roll my eyes and lean back in my chair. My eyes dart to the time on my computer, one more hour until I leave meaning I had one hour to find a model. I had to get it done by the end of tonight so the model would be 100% confirmed. Tara and I both sit in silence, trying to plot on what the hell we were going to do. I pinch the bridge of my nose with my fingertips as Tara comes up with an idea.

"I can run through the list of models we have for your catwalk next month? I'm sure they'd be honoured to be front cover of MODA Magazine." She suggests and I sit on the idea for a bit before turning it down.

"I said I wanted someone who hasn't been involved with my line before." I say, not realising I've been furiously flicking a pen until my attention focuses on it.

"I can call around?" She offers and I reject it.

"I'll let you know." I finalise our conversation and she gives me a small nod before grabbing the file and heading out of my office. She shuts the large frosted glass doors leaving me to find a damn model. I open up a drawer and pull out a folio full of models that desperately wanted to be signed with my company. However, none of them fit the standard that I needed for this shoot.

I grab my iPhone and start scrolling through my contacts looking for someone relevant. Most of the contacts have to do with my work and the models that I have contacts for I've already featured. I hated doing repeats. It was unprofessional and lazy. Opposite of what I stood for.

I almost throw my phone through the ceiling high window out of frustration. I decide that my contacts are not working so kick my legs up onto my desk and start aimlessly scrolling through my Instagram feed. After what seems like hours of pointless scrolling and giving my thumb a work out, I come across a model I haven't seen before.

And wow was she fucking hot.

I tap on her profile, revealing her name to be Giovanna Alvarrez. Even her name was sexy. I start looking through her photos, a little shocked that I hadn't seen someone so flawless. I could tell that she was just starting out with her followers count and all. I was determined to boost her career.