fight for control ↠ harry styles [b1] ✓

CHAPTER 90

a.n. don't forget to vote and comment

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Renleigh Kensington

Bed rest my fucking ass.

Literally who did they think I was? I had a company under my name which was for bloody sure not going to manage and run itself. I was the boss for a fucking reason and taking that away from me felt like what it probably feels like to be thrown in jail.

Harry thought he could keep me under control and lock the bedroom door so I wouldn't be able to leave in case I woke up before him. But this silly bitch didn't know I learnt how to pick a lock and I managed to get out of the room, fully dressed, at eight am. Which was already an hour later than when I usually got in.

I texted Liam to let him know I was going to be coming in today but will be late so if anything happens, he is in charge. To be fair, I could have taken the day off and let him deal with the business for now but it irked me that I was told no. I don't do well with no's if it comes to what I can and cannot do, especially when it's about work.

You come between me and my job and you might as well get to adjusting your will because you are going to be smelling the flowers from six feet under.

I made a quick coffee for myself—iced, of course—and just as I was about to take a sip, I heard Harry's feet tap against the tiled floors. Oh, here we bloody go. I just knew he was going to give me a lecture about how I shouldn't be awake or how I should be in bed.

"Morning," I grinned at him like nothing ever happened and brought my glass to my lips. He folded his arms in front of his chest, his shirt wrinkled and his PJ bottoms up on his shins.

"Do I wanna know how you got out of bed?"

"I put my feet down and walked away from the frame."

"I meant room but whatever—I don't want another smartass answer."

"Okay, moody pants," I replied.

"Renleigh, you are not going in today. Or for the next three months."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that to me," I scoffed. "I am going in and I will be going in for the next three months."

"Do I need to remind you that you were in the hospital yesterday? Where you got taken into because your body is over exhausted and it doesn't know how to function properly so it gave up on you?" he asked me with a judging tone, trying to get me to see his point. Which I did, however, it wasn't going to make me stop from going in.

"No, you do not."

"Well, then you need to keep it in mind and also put the coffee down. That's not what you should be drinking."

"Should I be drinking a fucking kale smoothie and eat scrambled eggs with salmon as well?"

"Why are you picking a fight with me again?" he asked. "I know you are not liking this situation and trust me, I don't like it any more, but fighting over something like your health is stupid. I don't understand why you want to push yourself more—if that's even possible."

"Did you not hear me yesterday? I feel empty, I feel like I have achieved nothing and siting around, laying in bed is just going to make me feel worse," I argued back because it seemed like he didn't understand that. Or if he did, then he decided to ignore it instead.

"The doctor ordered you to do that. I don't get why it's so hard for you to grasp."

"The same way it's so hard for you to grasp that I can't sit here and do fuck all."