isabella [h.s.]

nine

**Here comes trouble again, I better act carefully. She knows what she's doing to me
and she makes it look so easy**

ISABELLA

Much to my relief, Harry storms into the precinct about twenty minutes after the phone call I made to him. His hair is messy and his eyes are still a little drowsy from sleep, dressed in an outfit that he'd clearly thrown on quickly before leaving the apartment. As he approaches the interviewing room where I've been held for the past hour, I take note of his expression. His dark eyebrows are pulled low over his narrowed pale green eyes, and his mood seems to match that of his brisk strides. He appears angry, although I can't quite figure out if that's because of me waking him up at almost four in the morning or just because of the overall situation.

However, I soon realise that his anger isn't in fact directed at me, because as soon as his gaze lands on the police officer who arrested me, his expression hardens even more. "Marshall," he greets him in a tight voice.

"Styles," the police officer, Marshall, replies, his face flashing with a look of recognition. Judging by both of their expressions and demeanours, it's pretty clear that they don't like each other, and I immediately find myself curious as to why.

Harry glances over to where I'm still sat handcuffed on the chair, his jaw clenching at the sight before he returns his gaze to Marshall, his expression angrier than a few seconds before. "Care to tell me why you arrested Miss D'Alessio tonight?" he asks. My eyebrows shoot up at his use of my surname, mostly because I've never told him what it is. I guess I shouldn't really be surprised that he knows it though. He is a detective, after all.

"She was being a nuisance out on the streets," Marshall responds, his lips arching into a slight smirk. "I mean, it's not really much of a surprise, is it? Not with girls who dress like that."

"Bullshit," I spit out at him. "I wasn't being a nuisance at all!" In response to my outburst, Harry shoots me a stern look, indicating that he'll handle this, and I decide to allow it seeing as I don't particularly want to spend the night in the cells.

"I don't think Miss D'Alessio's clothing has anything to do with the reason why you brought her here," Harry states when he turns back to Marshall, his irritation evident in his tone. "And like she said, she wasn't being a nuisance. From what I hear, you approached her. And don't bother lying, because she told me everything that happened. And if you continue to lie, I'm sure we can get some security camera footage from that street corner to corroborate her story."

Marshall's nostrils flare angrily and he glances over at me with an annoyed look, but I just raise an eyebrow challengingly. "Don't look at her," Harry snaps, his nostrils flaring angrily. "Look at me when I'm talking to you."

Marshall, who looks almost enraged at the fact that Harry is barking orders at him, reluctantly tears his gaze away from mine and returns it to the equally as enraged man stood beside me. "She was being a nuisance," he reiterates. "She was shouting and screaming abuse at me."