Ambition || Harry Styles

*3*

I don't even know what I'm feeling right now as I storm from the boardroom to my office, yelling orders at people who just happen to be in the destructive path of Hurricane Alexa.

"Jackie, if I catch you sneaking in late again this week, don't bother coming in again."

"Paul, I want that report I asked for on my desk by 9am tomorrow, I don't care if I said you had until Monday, I've changed my mind."

I know I'm being a total bitch, a boss from hell, but right now I don't really give a shit who I take my anger out on.

Muffled whispering erupts throughout my section and I turn into my office, giving Katie a warning glance not to follow me as I slam the door shut behind me.

My hands press against the wooden desk as I stand in front of the chair, closing my eyes and taking counted breaths in and out.

Inhale, 1-2-3-4. Exhale, 5-6-7-8.

There's a familiar pain in my chest that feels like my heart is beating far too forcefully and I wonder for the millionth time if it's because of devastation or stress?

I rub my palm in little circles over the pain, as if I can physically soothe it but I'm interrupted by a soft knock on the door.

"Katie, not now!" I yell, but the door cracks open anyway.

"Lexi, can I please just-" The male voice takes me by surprise and I jump up and smooth down my hair as if that is what's fucking wrong.

"Liam, what can I do for you?"  My voice is short and measured and he looks almost a little disappointed.

"Look, what happened in there was really horrible, I don't understa-" he starts to ramble but I don't let him finish. 

I don't want to discuss this with him, or anyone.

"Horrible?" I laugh a little but it's forced and cold. "We got our project approved, will make a heap more money for the company and we each got a bonus.  I'm not sure what you're referring to being so horrible?"

I exaggerate the last word with sarcastic venom and I see him almost physically recoil.

My face is saying, 'don't fuck with me right now' and I cross my arms over my chest for effect.

We've spent a lot of time together in the last few weeks, lots of late nights and long discussions.  We work really well as a team but the obvious need he had for some sort of personal connection really irks me the wrong way. This is work. That's it.

Liam's a good looking guy, at a guess I'd say mid-twenties, maybe around my age and he has kind brown eyes and a warm smile.

He's a nice guy, which is the exact reason I'm not attracted to him.

He shakes his head and a hand scruffs through his short beard.

"No, I should have said something when your da-, I mean Mr Patterson shook my hand, I was just shocked, I'm so sorry, this was all you, Lexi."

Genuine guilt is washing over his features and maybe if I was in another time, in another place, in another life I would have hugged him and thanked him, told him not to worry. Maybe he and I could have actually been friends, supportive and comforting.

But it's not, and that's not me.

"Liam, I don't know what you're talking about. Look, I'm very busy do you need anything else?" I ask as I sit down and tap the mouse of my computer, all but dismissing him without waiting for his answer.

"M'sorry, Lexi," he mumbles and as he is closing the door he whispers back, "you really don't deserve to be treated like that."

I pretend not to hear him but the second the door clicks shut I swivel my chair around to face the wall, looking at the ceiling and praying that not a single, useless, tear falls.

-

Four, five, six cigarette breaks later, and it's 7:25 pm when I next look at the clock, my feelings towards what happened today are now firmly buried in a pile of work and my mind settled by the distraction of emails and contracts and schedules.

I usually never leave before nine, but today has been one of those days, and all I want to do is crawl up on my couch with a glass of rosé and watch a mind-numbing chick flick that gives women a false sense of life and love.

I'm packing up my things when an incoming email chime stops me.  It's from my father, despite him being in an office literally forty feet away.

*New site potential. Please inquire.*

Love you too, Dad.

The email he has forwarded isn't your usual real-estate marketing mail blast. For one, it's personalised and two, it has detailed information about the history, potential for the site and what has been developed around it for the last ten years.

I scroll down to the bottom of the extremely long and informative email, maybe it's not an agent but a friend, a contact, an interested business partner?

*I would appreciate the opportunity to discuss with you further, Mr Patterson.

Sincerely, Harry Styles.

SWB Realtors*

Weird. I've never heard of them.

But, the mystery man plays a good game, and if there's anything I'm impressed by, it's knowledge and hard work.

Usually, I would call, but there's a wine and a Hugh Grant movie with my name on it so I shoot the guy a quick email.

*Mr Styles, Thank you for your email, it has been passed on to me to follow up.  Would love to chat about it when you have some time. Regards, Alexa Patterson.*

Shutting down my computer and changing into flat sandals for my commute home, I'm at the elevator when my phone rings.

"Alexa Patterson," I state clearly and firmly as I step into the awaiting empty lift car.

"So, you'd love to chat would you?" the raspy, unfamiliar male voice tickles my ear and there's a hint of both seduction and sarcasm in his tone.

My face furrows as I pull the phone away from my ear to check the number on the screen but I don't recognise it.

"Sorry, I think you have the wrong number," I tell him before promptly hanging up.

A/N:

THERE HE IS!

Please remember to hit the star, it makes my day!

Love Ruby

x