11 | Carry You

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Issa long one. Enjoy my sunflowers.

♬ ✥*

Harry.

It was a long fucking day and it only five past twelve.

I slammed the report I'd gone through shut, the moment the COO left my office. He informed me that the head accountant was one number was off, and it did not make me happy. I went over the reports with him and we realised that the best decision was to lay him off. It wasn't the first time it happened, and if it occurred once more, it could lead to a great downfall for the business. If that panned out, we'd have to lay off well over a hundred people.

It was my company and I planned to run it as best as I could — and wasn't going to fail.

Frustrated, I tapped my fingers on the desk surface, before storming out of the room straight to where my personal assistant was sitting. She immediately stood up at the sight of me, quickly ending the conversation with whoever she was speaking with on the phone.

"Iris. Have you heard from Seren—Miss Hayes, yet? She was supposed to email me about the contracting companies that I sent her to choose from," I questioned her.

And for some strange reason, that was the only main thing that crossed my mind for the past few hours.

"If I may, why don't you contact her yourself, Mr Styles?" she asked, trying to hold in a smile that was attempting to form.

My PA rarely smiled, and that was mainly because there was no sense of decent emotion on this entire floor of this building.

"I, um, it's better for you to do it." I furrowed my brows at her statement.

"Well, I was going to meet her after work today, but I had to cancel because something came up. She invited me out to a cafe up near she lives that she really likes."

"Oh? What — um — which is it?"

"It's called the Quaint Corner Café. It's up in North Vancouver. I mean, you might know where it's at."

"I think I passed it before."

"Right." She bit the corner of her lips, still attempting to hide that grin. "Should I message her and ask about them?"

"Ask about what? Oh, no. I'll contact her instead. That's fine. I was actually heading up there for a meeting later today."

Shit.

Why am I lying? She's my PA, and I have no fucking meeting.

I'm a fucking mess.

"I'm aware, Mr Styles. Would you like a coffee? You seem like you need one."

"Yes, please. Two extra espresso shots, thank you," I replied and headed back to my office.

Why did she act like I did have actually did have a meeting? She knew I didn't.

I had a shit ton of things to do, though, and I knew it would carry until well through the night. Ordering takeout had been my go-to since I rarely went home to have a proper cooked meal. Linda, my house caretaker, used to do it, but I ended up just telling her to stay to make sure the house was clean. She did prepare for me a breakfast-to-go sometimes — well, on the days she knew I actually went back to the apartment.

There was a suite two floors up in this building that I always kept a wardrobe filled with clothes that I could wear. Again, Linda came by to tidy up and send the laundry to the dry cleaners.

As for the only decent meals that I had, were when I went to dinner meetings; and even then, I wouldn't finish my plate since the sole purpose was to talk business.

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