I. L'instant [H.S]

LXXIV

"You have to come clean about this, Harry. If you don't, you will loose her."

Matt's words play over and over my head as I drive away from his flat, it's already late and Emilia's last text message -a bloody hour ago- was clear: she's already at the fucking event while I'm still driving through the city. She's going to be mad, I know she will be. There's at least four missed calls in my phone and a couple of texts asking if everything's alright. I should've answered them but I just couldn't bring myself to lie to her anymore. I know Matt is right, I need to tell her the truth otherwise if I keep lying to her she's never going to forgive me. It's bad enough that I've been making up excuses not to be with her almost half of every week..

"Fuck!" I hiss, desperate.

The hotel is packed at it takes me a while to get someone to actually take my car to the underground car park. After going around through endless hallways and staff members of the magazine and press, I'm finally able to get into the hall where the party is being held. For once, my father's last name has a fucking use and I'm cleared as soon as I explain who I am at the entrance. The place is massive and there's too many people inside, some pretentious prick is DJ-ing with a shitty version of Fleetwood Mac's Black Magic Woman.

I walk through every group of people as they all chat and even try to dance with a drink in their hand. The windows all around the hall are massive and show off London's skyline, the bar is posh and fully stocked, crowded to the brim as everyone hogs the few tenders rushing around. Moving through, I see Eric waving at me and I'm quick to walk his way thinking Emilia must be with him, but as I get closer I realise she's nowhere around.

Where the fuck is she?

"Styles!" Eric chants patting my back. "Finally got here man."

"Yeah, have you seen Emilia?" I ask almost immediately.

"You're looking sharp." He comments with a smirk.

Looking at him in the eye, I practically growl. "Emilia, Eric. Where is she?"

"Over there." He points across the room.

For a moment I can't see shit but then I spot her. "Thanks." I mutter like an idiot, too hooked up on the woman to care.

"She looks good innit?" Eric chants proudly but I don't even answer him and walk away.

She looks fucking hot. Her hair looks wet and slicked to the back of her head showcasing her beautiful chocolate eyes and fair pale skin as she nods at someone. I have to control myself when I see she's wearing only black lace under the oversized suit, it's too fucking sexy, tantalising. When I finally reach close enough to touch her, she turns and her smile disappears for a moment. Shit.

"You're here." she mutters, composing herself quickly and looking behind her where an older man stands. "Mr. Ellis, this is Harry Styles, my boyfriend." she announces, wrapping her hand around mine. "Harry, this is Tom Ellis, Dazed Magazine's editor in chief."

The man nods my way, offering his hand. "Harry, nice to meet you."

"Likewise." I nod back, shaking his hand so Emilia won't glare at me.

"If you'll excuse us for a moment." she says after the introductions are over and turns on her heel to walk away from the group.

She tries to let go of my hand but I link my fingers with hers, not giving in. Turning her head back, I can see she's fuming but keeps on walking until we reach the farthest side of the hall, right where a wide darkly-lit hallway leads to the restrooms. Taking a look around, she finally yanks her hand off of mine, stuffing both into her pockets and propping her weight over one of her legs, sticking her hip to the side and waiting for me to elaborate as to why I'm here so late, but all I can think about right now is how bloody good she looks tonight. That lace thing is messing up with my thoughts.