042

note: a lot of you guys are confused, and so was i when i started making this plot but in time shit will start to make sense.

"Harry, I'm worried. This is just...none of this is making any sense."

"You've got nothing to worry about. I'm protecting you. I'm taking care of you. Everything. I'm doing it for you. Can't you just understand that? I just fucking gave you my all last night, and you still feel like questioning me?"

I cleared my throat and averted my eyes for a very brief moment to the floor, and then I gazed up at him again to find his pale green eyes watching me.

He never stopped watching me. He spoke, and he was looking right through me. And it scares me because even though he's done everything he can for me, I can't help but feel unsure and overthink.

The silence between us was tense.

His hands ran through his hair, and he closed his eyes with a loud sigh. "I've gone against every rule I've set up for myself my entire life...for you. And I hate that you can't fucking use that brain of yours and think."

"I'm trying," I insisted. "I really am. You can't blame me for questioning you, because you switch characters on me all the time. First you're snapping at me, and then...you're caring for me and calling me baby, but then you go back to being heartless."

Harry rubbed his jawline with parted lips, thinking before he said, "I didn't grow up the same way you did, alright? I wasn't handed everything on a silver platter." His hand fell at his side. "I'm not used to giving so much to a person."

"Harry, --"

"And when I do give a lot, I get fucking questioned like I'm the bad guy," he retorted, shaking his head.

My hands came over my face, somehow trying to just rub away the frustration that won't leave my body. "I'm not saying that you're the bad guy. I'm worried because there are things you don't tell me."

"Okay, the tattoo? I've had it for so long, alright? I'm not ready to tell you what that's from. If you want me to change for you, take me one step at a time. Fuck, it's not easy for me," he firmly stated, and I was surprised when his hands removed my own from my face.

I peered up at him, wrists in his grip. "I'm sorry," I told him, "I just...I wanted to feel like I was helping, but all I've done is add to the problem."

"You've been a pain in my ass, I'm glad we both agree," he admitted, careless to how I'd react, but we both agree I have in fact been agitating, especially to someone that has so much on his mind. I know he's got a lot of weight on him and he hates to show it, but I should have been less persistent to get what I wanted.

And he was a huge pain in my mind. Always switching personalities on me and agitating me. But that's over now. He's changing for me and I can't possibly ask for more.

My eyes averted between us as he said, "But you're the pain that affects me the most, and I can't lose you to these bloody bastards who have intentions that could be anything."

Harry continued to speak, dropping my wrists and reaching for my face. His thumb caressed right beneath my bottom lip. I don't understand why, but it soothed me. Every part of my skin he touched, as long as it was him, was perfect. I wonder why it had to be him.

"My job isn't to protect you anymore, that's my instinct." He added. "My job now is to help keep the corporation alive and locate your father."

I gradually began to nod. This is the part where we really can't lose this focus. It depends on many lives and the safety of others.

Zayn came back with Liam, shaking their heads because they've found nothing.

Their aggravation is obvious, and Harry only rubs his jaw and looks blankly into space. Something about his reaction is different from the other two. He's almost calm, and it pegs me the wrong way.

Though I decide to trust him. My eyes watch him carefully just as Zayn continues to shout about wasting time, being unproductive and losing. Liam stands there, absolutely frustrated, but only demands of Zayn to 'shut the fuck up'.

Then there was silence.

"I just don't know how it's possible...that we don't know anything while they know everything. It's like...we've been isolated," Zayn confesses with excessive amounts of fury. His jaw clenches and he runs his hand over his mouth and jaw.

My eyes are glued to the wall. He was right nonetheless. I hardly believe we're on the right track.

Harry says, "I've got an idea. It might be generalizing, but it's quite reasonable that there is a chance they don't know either."

"What?" Liam inquires, eyebrows furrowed. "Why would they go through so much trouble to get her without even knowing their purpose?"

I continued to stare at the wall when I quietly said, "If you think about it, it's almost as if they weren't really desperate to get me in the gala once Louis revealed who I was."

Zayn says nothing. Harry continues.

"Right. What is the purpose then? Surely Louis knows. And Grogan, but he's dead," Harry suggests casually. "C'mon, think. Why would a large group of people all fight to the death for one girl?"

Again, silence engulfed us in it's tensed clouds. There was a sigh from Liam's lips, a long stare from Zayn, and my silence. Harry watched all three of us until someone had spoken up.

"Money," Zayn says dryly. "It's the only thing I could think of."

My eyebrows raised and I finally looked at them three. "How much money?" I asked slowly. I am worth money. These are like bounty hunters, and my worth is money.

"I'm assuming a lot. In the billions. And what Louis said? The little riddle," Liam points out.

Harry still doesn't seem fazed. "Think of it this way. He's giving us hints we can't work with. And until we can, we won't acknowledge them."

It's better than overthinking. Something I know, but I can't remember. Truly a very vague, questionable, brain teasing riddle. It's worded so simply, yet it is hard to answer.

Harry crosses his arms over his chest and leans against a wall. His eyes are fixed nowhere in particular as he looks around at all of us.

"I'm worth billions of dollars. Who put the price tag on me to begin with?" I asked Harry.

He gazes at me steadily. "We'll find out, I suppose."

"Why is she priced?" Zayn questions. Harry seems to be answering our questions with ease. "Someone must have put the amount on her."

Liam adds, "Maybe Louis was hinting at that."

"Maybe," Harry shrugs. "There's nothing here in Italy to work with except a temporary place to stay. So get comfortable."

+

It was nearly impossible to become accustomed to the loud voice in my head. On occasion, I would be thinking about who on Earth would put that price tag on me and why. Two things Louis hinted at that I am yet to understand.

If being the daughter of a successful mafia leader isn't dangerous than I don't know what is.

I let the water from my shower soak through my hair. I'm awfully tired, but I can't sleep. Here I am at two in the morning under a warm gust of water and my nagging thoughts.

Not one care over my stitches or myself in general. I was feeling too tranquil and maybe loopy under this steam.

I wish they taught a class for this in school. I don't even need the quadratic formula.

My hands rubbed my cheeks in exhaustion when I sighed. The glass door suddenly slides open, and I yelp in surprise, arms over my naked chest when a sleepy Harry stands before me.

His hair is messier and pushed back even and his eyes are visibly tired. He leans his shoulder into the wall next to him, looking at me steadily with his pretty green eyes.

I stare. "What?" I quietly question, eyebrows furrowing.

"Nothing, just wanted to catch a glimpse of my woman naked," he huskily murmurs with a tinge of sarcasm. My lips part as he asks, "What are you doing showering at three in the morning, baby girl?"

My cheeks are a tinge of pink, but I ignore it and force out, "I can't sleep."

"Why is that? I mean, we surely have some time before they find us," Harry responds.

I sigh and shut my eyes, turning my back to him as I continue to wash my body. His gaze is noticeable and nearly touchable.

"Yeah," I whispered.

He's silent.

"Just go back to bed. I'll be there like in ten minutes," I quietly said. Funny how I am no longer too shy around him, but I'm still burning beneath his gaze.

Harry doesn't budge. I'm washing off the soap on my body as he says, "I saw this girl a year after I started working for your dad. I was fourteen and I believe she was eleven. Or that's what I thought."

I'm wondering where he's going with this. But his raspy, husky voice seems to sooth me because it is not filled with the usual dryness or venom.

"First time I saw her, she was trying to climb a tree," he explains. "And I watched her because I wanted to see where it would go. She's climbing and she almost seems like she's really good until she slips on a small branch, misses her footing, and loses her balance. Down to the ground she falls and hits her head so hard. So hard I almost felt bad. I realize she's unconscious. I decide to help her, and then I bring her to her dad where he smacks me across the face for just being around when she fell."

I'm turned and staring up at him, eyes big and lips parted as I listened.

"She's okay three days later. And three days later, she's at it again. That stupid little girl kept going back to that tree until she would climb it to the very top. And all I did was watch every time just in case I had to help her again," he says to me lowly, eyes traveling to my body.

"That little girl climbed the tree so many times that --," he adds, and I'm stunned when he pulls me forward and places his hand on my side, finger tracing a line on my skin there. "-- she had a scar on her waist from one of the branches."

My eyes are huge as I peer up at him, his own brushing the small scar on my waist.

He's speaking softly now. "Every time I told her dad that she had fallen, I would take the punch or kick in the gut so she wouldn't get yelled at. So he could take out his irritation on me."

His pale green eyes peel from my waist to my face, watching my astonished expression. My heart warms when his thumb brushes against my cheek.

"Don't think that I never knew you. Don't think that I'm the bad one here. I'm just not good at showing it," he states lowly.

I watch silently as he moves away and walks out of the bathroom. My eyes don't leave the spot he previously stood in. The water running behind me is the only sound I'm hearing.

I'm leaving the shower when I wrap a towel around my body after a full thirty minutes of only thought. Then I'm quick to changing into some shorts and a t-shirt for comfort.

In the bedroom, Harry lies on the bed asleep. Or I think he is. His head rests against the pillow, frown on his face like he's having a bad dream. Lips closed. His arms are tucked underneath the pillows.

I lay down next to him, not afraid to approach him now and lay beneath the sheets with him. My approach is purely of raw concern. I raise my hand to his hair and stroke it from his forehead and eyes, leaning forward to kiss his closed lips.

And all I could think about is how bad I am falling in love with this man. How bad I am worried because I can't pick a theory for our dilemma. But I trust him, I have to. Because I am already in love with him.

note: dont fuck up catalina. don't do it.

Thank you for reading. 💘