In order to be taken seriously, Lexi has had to become something she hates; emotionless, ruthless and a little bit brutal. But despite the tough exterior, she has one weakness, a green-eyed man with a smile that makes her stomach flip and ego so bi...
An hour later, at exactly 8:57am, Katie sticks her head through the gap she has opened in my door.
"The banana is here," she whispers with a grin and it takes all of my energy not to throw something at her.
"And early," she winks, knowing that's as good as foreplay to me.
"Send him in," I tell her, smoothing down my pants and putting my jacket on for formality.
Katie backs away, swinging the door open and stepping aside to let the man in, grinning behind him as she watches my reaction which I am trying desperately to keep as neutral as possible.
The arrogance of this man radiates off him as he smirks, and it's very clear he knows just how incredibly good looking he is. Something I have absolutely no intention of fuelling.
"Mr Styles," I greet coldly. "Please take a seat."
I ignore the fact his eyes are even more emerald in real life, that his body is tall and lean but not gawky, that although he is wearing a perfectly tailored suit his cornflower blue shirt is unbuttoned almost to his sternum.
"Ms Patterson," he smirks holding up a white gift bag, not saying anything further, so I ignore that, too.
"You may call me Alexa. Let's begin, shall we?" my voice sounds impatient as I sit, but mainly I'm trying to divert the attention away from my eyes that are noticing the tattoos peeking out from his open shirt and the cross pendant resting perfectly in the centre.
"Do I have something on my jacket?" he says smugly, looking down his front where my eyes were just darting and the knowing smile across his face makes both my heart jump and my blood boil.
"No, I was just thinking I have that exact same blouse, Mr Styles."
Shit, I wish I hadn't done that, because the smile that creeps across his face almost floors me.
"I bought you something," he says taking a seat on the other side of my desk casually and far too comfortably, placing the white bag in front of me.
His long fingers retreat and I notice the heavy silver rings that adorn almost every digit, all mismatched but equally intriguing. A single cross inked into the fleshy pad between his index finger and thumb.
My eyes jump to his, trying to search for the set up or the malice in this gift but I can't read him. I'm usually so good at reading people.
"I don't take bribes, Mr Styles."
He throws his head back and laughs and I take the chance to drink it all in like I've been in a desert for days.
"A bribe? For what? Just open it, Alexa! And it's Harry."
I sigh in annoyance and he bites the inside corner of his lips, almost as if he is stifling a smile at my frustration.
I open the bag, a frown etching into my face as I pull out a fluorescent orange, high visibility vest and a bottle of red wine.
"Thought you might need them next time you go out in the street," he says seriously but his expression is jovial.
I want to be mad, and I am, but the nerve of this beautiful man actually causes a laugh to escape my lips in an exhale.
He seems pleased with himself, as a grin takes over his features making it seem like his eyes are literally fucking twinkling.
"Very funny," I half scold, but I'm partly glad he didn't find the whole thing unprofessional and off-putting. "But I do have to apologise for my indiscretion last night, I wasn't myself," I explain.
"You're apologising for nearly being killed?"
"No, I'm apologising for the emotional outburst that followed," I tell him seriously and it causes him to laugh and shake his head.
I put my gifts into a drawer in the side of my desk, pulling out the printed plans of the site that were attached to the email he sent; an indication that the pleasantries are over.
"So, are you married to one of Alan Patterson's sons?" he questions as he takes a business card out of my holder without permission.
"No, I'm not. So, the site you have on Gipps Street," I try to get this conversation back to the case at hand.
"Are you his niece or something? Oh wait, are you married to Alan?" He keeps pushing and I sigh theatrically at his interrogation.
"I'm his daughter," I tell him, waiting for the reaction that most people give me, a confused look, a glance again at the business card to check it definitely says Patterson & Sons, a joke about how he mustn't have expected me to join the business.
But Harry doesn't, he just stares at me, his eyes squinting ever so slightly, as if he's trying to fit all of my puzzle pieces together to make a whole. Well, those pieces have been ripped and torn to shreds, so good luck to him.
"Wow, well, you're father is my idol, his work up in the North was iconic, he's a trailblazer," he rants like everyone else.
"Yes, he is fantastic at what he does," I answer with no emotion.
I get this a lot, my father's company is one of the largest privately run firms in the country and has been instrumental in changing things like planning laws, pushing the boundaries of modern living and also the creating a bench mark in what's now considered luxury apartments.
The next question is almost always, 'What is it like working with him?' or 'He must be proud to have his children in the business he built from nothing?'
Harry's eyes are scanning my indifferent face, one I feel like I wear 99% of the day but under his burning green eyes, I worry he can see into my soul.
"Must be a lot of pressure to live up to?" he asks, my face flinching a microscopic amount but I feel like he sees it.
I don't think anyone has ever asked me this, but I try and make my voice as monotone as possible.
"Not really. He's a great businessman and I would be lucky to have even half the amount of success he has had," I lie.
I swear one corner of Harry's mouth turns up slightly before he leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk as if this is his office and I'm merely visiting.
"I don't believe you," he says slowly, his eyes boring into mine and I'm taken aback.
"What?" I question, getting a little flustered by his intense stare.
"You don't fool me, Miss Alexa Patterson, Development Manager," he reads off the card in his hand. "No, you want to be better than him, greater, more successful. Half would be a failure in your eyes. I can see it."
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