baby — one
You became his sugar baby to survive, but Harry’s possessiveness soon turns into something softer. The black card pays the bills, but it’s the unexpected love that threatens to ruin you both.
Author’s Note: Surprise! I’m posting Chapter 1 of Baby early so you guys can start requesting tags. This is a 10-part one-shot that I’m still finishing up over on Patreon (Part 8 goes up tomorrow!). I’ll start posting the remaining chapters here once the Patreon run is finished, but if you can’t wait to see what happens next, you can read ahead for $2 by joining my Patreon!
Rating: Explicit. 🔞 content. reader discretion is advised.
📌 Please consider joining my Patreon -> Patreon
The city looked better from forty stories up. From here, London was just a grid of amber lights and rain-slicked streets, silent and manageable. It was the only time Harry liked looking at it, when he was far enough away that he couldn't hear the noise.
Harry Styles adjusted the cuff of his shirt, the movement sharp and precise. His office was a cavern of glass and mahogany, smelling faintly of leather polish and the aged scotch sitting untouched in the crystal tumbler on his desk.
He stared at the spreadsheet on his monitor, but his focus was broken by the vibration of his phone against the wood. It buzzed like an angry insect.
Harry didn’t even blink. He simply reached out and silenced the call, flipping the device face down. She would be calling about the house in Surrey, or the alimony adjustment. He made a mental note to have his assistant handle it in the morning. He didn’t have the energy for the argument tonight.
He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the roughness of stubble against his palm. Forty-five years old. He had more money than he could spend in three lifetimes, but right now, all he felt was the throb of a headache behind his left eye.
A soft knock at the glass door made him look up.
He suppressed a sigh, forcing his expression into something neutral. It was Camille. She was thirty-two, an art dealer he’d been seeing for three months. She was beautiful, intelligent, and currently, looking at him with an expectation he knew he couldn't meet.
She pushed the door open, balancing two takeout boxes from that Thai place she liked.
"I saw the light was still on," she said, stepping inside with a soft smile. She placed the food on the edge of his desk. She walked around to his chair, her hands finding his shoulders. "You’ve been here since seven this morning. You need to eat."
Harry sat still. He didn't lean into her touch, but he didn't pull away either. He just felt... heavy.
"I have another hour of work, Camille," he said, his voice low.
"It can wait," she murmured, her fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck. "Come on. Let’s go back to yours. We haven't had a proper night together in two weeks. I bought that lingerie set you liked...”
She leaned down, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It was sweet. It was domestic. And it made Harry feel absolutely suffocated.
He gently took her hand, removing it from his shoulder, and stood up.
"Camille," he said softly. He waited until she looked at him. "We need to stop."
She blinked, her smile faltering. "Stop working? I agree."
"No," Harry said. He kept his voice even, calm. "Us. This."
