Harry Styles was an extremely professional man.
He was the type of man who just looked like money. If he entered a room, you would feel his presence. You would smell the expensive Tom Ford radiating off of him, look at the intricate suit he wore that was no doubt made specifically for him, and you would get out of his way. He would then proceed to command the attention of everyone in the room, without even muttering a word or giving a single smile.
He had reportedly been this way since he first moved to New York, as well. His old college classmates stated that he never spoke in class but aced every exam. He'd never lost a case, always managed to turn in everything on time, and despite his quiet nature, every single law professor would nearly get on their knees to get him to join their own firms .
It was no surprise to anyone, then, when Harry Styles made the decision to start his own firm. Instead of working for anyone else, he simply chose to be his own boss. Every year he picked out a little less than a handful of interns from a high pile of applicants - specifically 2. They were mainly to do his dirty work, to snoop around and boringly comb through files for hours so he wouldn't have to, but regardless it was a golden seal on any law student's resume so every star student applied.
This year, he accepted 2 additional interns on top of the two he had from the previous year.
An aspiring lawyer from somewhere across the seas in Europe named Liam, and some girl from a small town who moved to New York to pursue her dreams, Y/N.
Mr. Styles was easily irritated. Well, it wasn't visible irritation as much as it was just complete silence. Every morning Y/N had the chore of giving him his coffee, and since no one at the office had the hint to invest in sugar packets, she was always forced to attempt to measure out how much "4 Packets of sugar" was in large spoonfuls.
Sometimes, he'd take a sip and shrug with a small lift in his eyebrows before turning around and burrowing himself inside of his office again. And others, he would take a sip and stay silent for a moment before handing it back to her, a gesture to which Y/N would promptly turn around in embarrassment and remake his coffee until he approved.
Today, however, was different.
The entire office environment was tense, getting even tenser by the moment as rustling papers and groans filled the room. Usually mornings were full of small talks between Y/N and Liam, and the nice boy who was interning from the year before named Michael. The girl, Rachel, who had also been interning for Styles & Associates always showed disdain towards Y/N, making snarky remarks about how incorrect she was (even when she was, in fact, correct).
"Why is it so tense in here?" she tries to whisper to Liam. But because no one else was speaking and nothing was playing in the background on the TV like it usually was, the other two interns glance at her before staring back at their files.
"You seriously didn't hear?" Liam whispers back to her. He places the tip of his thumb in a yellow manilla folder to keep his place, turning to face her. Y/N hears a scoff coming from Rachel, she promptly ignores the sound and keeps her gaze locked on Liam's expectantly.
"That one CEO, Jared Laughlin - he owns that huge department store in the upper east side with the same models in the window every month - he's convicted of first degree murder." Liam tells her. Her eyes widen, jaw suddenly halting from chewing her bubble gum.
She knew the store, the one where every rich person would walk in and out with multiple shopping bags. Her and Liam would often make fun of the ugly flowers glued onto the thousand dollar dresses in the display when they were picking up Mr. Styles' sushi from an expensive buffet. She'd never expected to first-handedly be this close to the owner of the damn place.
