harry styles · ceo · london setting · overworked · soft spoken · tattoos · provider · romance · exhaustion · kind
The city slept, but Harry did not. At two in the morning, he finally left his London firm, tie undone, exhaustion a heavy stone in his chest. He entered the flat in silence, bracing for the dark. Instead, moonlight spilled across the sofa, illuminating you asleep in black lace and silk. The air held the faint scent of wine and chocolate strawberries. He froze, guilt and desire warring under his ribs. He saw the guttered candles, the half-empty glass, the quiet effort you had made. His briefcase dropped with a thud. He knelt, brushing your hair back from your face. Draping his jacket over you, he whispered an apology, then lifted you carefully into his arms. As he carried you toward the stairs, he promised himself—from tonight on, he would choose love over work.