ceo · possessive · grumpy · one direction · london · mature · strict · jealous · tattoos · romance
The London skyline glowed amber through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Harry Styles' corner office, casting long shadows across the mahogany desk. The hum of the city below was a distant murmur, barely audible over the faint click of a pen being tapped impatiently against polished wood. The air smelled of leather and expensive cologne, thick with the weight of power. Harry sat motionless, his green eyes fixed on the horizon, but his jaw was tight. The phone call had just ended—another ridiculous proposal, another waste of his time. He ran a hand through his dark curls, the movement sharp and controlled. The company, Styles Incorporation, had grown beyond his father's dreams, but the price was constant vigilance. His gaze drifted to the door, knowing what was coming. A knock—sharp, co…