Adaptation |HS|

Two.

I drummed my freshly polished fingers against my skirt, waiting in the lobby for Damien to come down. I spent all morning debating back and forth with myself, wondering if I shouldn't show up at all. But, the constant wonder of what Harry Styles had gotten himself into since the slow burning of his marriage, got to me. It was a pestering thought in the back of my mind that I couldn't shake. I tried everything to rid my thoughts of this situation that shouldn't have anything to do with me. I spent hours figuring out why I chose the job I chose and I suppose it was my terrible habit of being nosy, and my love for writing combined. "You've been sitting there for almost an hour," a gruff voice spoke from beside me, causing me to jump nearly two feet in the air and place a hand over my chest to calm my now racing heart.

His hair was grey and unruly, a thick beard lacing his jaw and chin. He had glasses on, but they didn't stop me from noticing his pretty eyes and eyelashes that brushed against his cheek every time he blinked. His tanned skin completed his look in so many ways, and I found myself nearly drooling over the man standing just a few feet away from me. "I'm looking for a Damien," I nearly choked out the words. "I was supposed to meet him at 11, I guess I lost track of time," I explained my sitting here for too long.

"Who are you to him?" He asked, now placing himself in the seat beside me. I looked away from him and down at my lap, twisting the ring on my finger. I was never a quick thinker, and I've gotten myself caught up in some rather sticky situations because of it. "Oh," he drawled out the word, "you're one of those girls," he said. "Follow me, I'll lead you to him," he said standing up. I looked at him confused, standing up nonetheless, and taking my bag along with me. "Apologies, my manners must have gone. I'm Zayn," he said, not daring to look at me.

"Lena," I nodded curtly. I observed my surroundings in one take, taking heed of how expensive everything in the building looked. I was afraid to even walk on the floors, thinking I would somehow fall through the glass-like walkway. Zayn lead me to the end of the hall and stopped at the mahogany double doors before knocking softly. He didn't waste much time before he entered, and pushed me inside gently.

"Damien, someone's here to see you," Zayn smirked. The room heated as the eyes of every man in the room landed on me, and I cowered. Gulping, I diverted my gaze to Zayn who looked down at me with the same smirk. "My bad, Lena's here to see you," he said. Just then, a blonde gentleman hopped out of his seat and quickly walked over to us, pulling me out of Zayn's hold. I was uncomfortable standing in the presence of all of these men. I knew this was a mistake.

"Zayn," a thick voice bellowed. It seemed as if everyone in the room froze up and I cursed under my breath. It had to have been him; Harry Styles. By everyone's reactions, including the way Damien's grip tightened on me, my suspicions were confirmed. "You of all people know I don't like to be interrupted during business," he hissed. "Do I have to remind you that you are on your last leg with this company?" He said, causing the smirk to drop from Zayn's face completely. I swallowed thickly and peaked behind Damien's arm to see the man slowly approaching us, as we stood near the door. "Little lady, Damien is in the middle of a very important business deal. He will meet you at your place of work, or your home, or whatever private place suits you best. Do not come back to my building. Are we clear?" He said, his chest puffed.

"Crystal," I choked, swallowing down the forming lump in my throat. His pink, puffed lips curled into a lopsided smirk, the same one I had seen on him in the pictures while he was being escorted out of multiple clubs by different women.

"Get rid of her," he snapped to Damien. Damien nodded and grabbed my arm gently, before taking me out of the room, and pulling me to the side.

"He dropped something heavy on us this morning and we've been negotiating all day," he sighed. "I'm sorry, I should have sent a text or something, but I can spare you a good fifteen minutes, so ask important questions," he said, tugging me down the corridor. I nodded and pulled the tape recorder from my bag, wincing as Damien's grip tightened on my wrist with each step we took, until we reached an empty conference room.