fight for control ↠ harry styles [b1] ✓

CHAPTER 78

Renleigh Kensington

Loud music, people filming on their phones as models walk by, champagne consumed left, right and centre with lights all over the place, making it one of the most memorable events of the season. Yet, I wished nothing more than to be home, ensuring the safety of those who somehow ended up in the shitstorm that is my past.

And, seemingly, my present.

Perhaps your past does follow you. Well, that is, if you leave it unfinished and boxed away like it never happened.

I felt as though people liked my work on the stage and I did around five interviews in an hour and a half. In any other situation, that would have boosted my ego and made me stand around with a cocky grin on my face, but now, as nothing but stress controlled my body and mind, I couldn't possibly find it in me to make it happen. Obviously, I was more than proud of the work I had done and the success it achieved and I couldn't wait to celebrate with a night full of sleep as I usually did after something like this.

But I had more important things to take care of before that could happen. At least, on my list of priorities, sleeping didn't end up in the top five.

I know, I know, I know.

Not healthy, not good, not acceptable. Whatever. I know. But I also knew this was all my fault and that didn't let me sleep. 'That' being guilt. The kind of guilt that people mean when they say it is eating them alive. It was eating me alive. It was giving me stress that I haven't felt in a long while and it made my mind go absolutely nuts, resulting in overthinking which then resulted in even more self-loathing and guess what else?

Ah, yes!

Stress.

So, I guess that pretty much explains why I didn't have it in me to enjoy the success, the attention, the love, the everything that this event brought me. I thanked the Lord that my part was over and I had perfectly skilled employees—Liam, more specifically—who would take over and finish whatever had to be finished. I gave him a list of things to take care of, things that I usually would have carried out myself but I really didn't have it in me to complete them.

"Hey-hey, wait," Styles. Fucking Harry Styles. He was everywhere. And I know I invited him to come along and be here with me—yes, he came even after everything I told him about Louis going after our brothers—but I didn't need his nagging. I really did not. "Renleigh. Stop rushing."

"I just got off the phone with the pilot, they are getting the jet ready and we're—well, I am certainly leaving in an hour," I let him know as I pulled my arm out of his grasp and faced him. We were still in the building, somewhere backstage but there was barely anyone in these halls since the show was still on.

"You wanna go home already?" he asked me and sounded like he had a problem with it.

"Yes. You don't have to come. Stay for the after party if you want," I told him, sounding cold and absolutely not arsed. That was because I wasn't. "My job here is done and I have other things to take care of—like the safety of others. Who, by the way, are in shit because of guess who! Me!" I pointed at myself as I explained it to him. I knew I sounded like a fucking maniac, I felt like one, but I couldn't deal with this guilt. It was horrible. "So, just let me go and I'll come find you when I have the time."

"Alright," he nodded with a look on his face that I couldn't quite describe. "Let's say you get home. What then? Are you gonna go to the police and nag them about updates? Are you gonna sleep next to your brother, just to make sure he's okay? Even though, you hired personal security for him and everything he does is monitored."