Harry, and his first fucking day on the job. He's going to quit. (No he's not)
Harry was normally incredibly good at concealing his emotions. He had faced down enemy after enemy and now, as of the night before, was working as a bodyguard under one of the most feared mafia bosses in the world.
Well, most feared according to the underground world, if you were to ask Harry he would say that the man was ‘too big for his britches and was really just a self obsessed arsehole with a head too big for his ego’. Not that many people bothered to ask Harry, especially after his first day on the job. Said job being one he only applied for because he needed money. Who knew having an honorary grandpa who splurged your inheritance would leave you with mountains of debt. He hated Dumbledore with a passion.
The interview had been stressful enough that Harry actually had sweat on his palms afterward. Mr. Snape had been thorough with his screening, from somehow finding out who his childhood friends were and where they and their families lived, to actually knowing where he was currently living, a small flat in the harsher part of the city.
Housing was expensive.
Obviously betrayal wasn’t an option, they would find him easily if he tried. Being an assassin hadn’t been easy, and Harry was glad to leave that behind him, even if it meant being an underling for a cruel hardhearted man. It also helped that the morning he started his new job, he found out his boss was pure eye candy.
When Tom Riddle had entered the room, it had taken all of Harry’s mental capabilities to not stare. The man was a giant, rippling muscles packed under a nice ,perfectly tailored, deep green suit. Harry couldn’t help but sneak glances at the way the fabric stretched across his chest as he sat down in the throne-like chair behind the desk.
Harry found he wouldn’t mind a night or two with a man like that. Though it could be seen as rather inappropriate to sleep with one's boss. And add on the fact that Harry was a virgin, he probably shouldn’t give his virginity away for a fling…
“Snape has briefed you on your duties, correct?”
Harry snapped out of his daydreaming like someone had screamed fire. Dear Lord, Riddle's voice was like melted dark chocolate, Harry would not mind being dipped into that like a strawberry.
“Yes sir, I have been informed of my duties” Harry replied.
Riddle didn’t even glance up from where he was reading through a sheet of papers. Harry studied them to the best of his ability to read upside down. They were something to do with cocaine production and placement. Unsurprising considering the man's profession.
“Good, do you have the required weapons? Or do you need someone to take you down to the armory?” At the sarcasm laced question Harry checked himself over mentally, he had weapons stored everywhere, from a gun in his tight leather boots, to a knife tucked away in the bun that was tied at the base of his neck.
“I came prepared sir,” and he had, despite what Riddle's tone had implied Harry was no novice.
“At least you aren’t a complete imbecile, hopefully you will manage to keep up with me.” Riddle drawled self-importantly.
That was it, all attraction for the man was snuffed out like a candle after being thrown into the sea. He was obviously a self absorbed git. And Harry was not into narcissists. Even if they looked like they could absolutely rail him into a mattress on a whim…Nope. Stop thinking like that Harry, the git IS NOT handsome, or crush worthy. Nope not at all, plus, he was absolutely too muscular for Harry’s taste. Harry was sure of it. He wasn’t just fishing for a reason to dislike the man’s appearance…absolutely not…he just really wanted to punch that man in the face, yep that’s all. Riddle has a very punch worthy face, not a kissable one at all.
While Harry was mind wrestling, Riddle finally looked up from his papers. Glancing over at Harry in a way that made the green eyed man feel like a mouse under a cat's gaze, something that he wasn’t used to. The man's deep red eyes seemed to assess him, it was actually intimidating…for an over-muscular git. A lesser man may have pissed himself, but thankfully a lesser man Harry was not, so he merely shifted slightly, face impassive as he got his wayward mind back under control. Damn overinflated ego rich men.
Riddle capped his pen, snagging a folder off the table as he stood, he was a very tall punchable-faced man.
“I have meetings this morning, do try to keep up,” Riddle paused, “oh and, make yourself useful and hold this for me,” he tossed the folder over at Harry.
The shorter man scowled deeply as he caught it. What was he? A traveling filing cabinet? Did Riddle not have a secretary to do this crap for him? Harry was hired as a bodyguard not a personal assistant, could Riddle not afford one? How cheap was he?
Harry sighed internally, but tucked the folder under his arm, resigning himself to working under the jerk. What could he say, he really needed to pay off his debt.
The arsehole grabbed his suit coat from where it was hung on the wall, papers now neatly organized atop the desk, and strode out of the door, leaving Harry cursing under his breath as he scrambled to keep up with Riddle's long strides. Harry would willingly admit Riddle moved fast for a man built like a tank, Jesus, why was he so fast he whined mentally.
“Can you please slow the fuck down” Harry muttered under his breath as he had to practically run to keep up.
Riddle finally stopped in a large room with a long table, a conference room; Harry a few steps behind him, and took a seat at the head, leaving Harry to sit in the chair to his right. Harry sat like a statue, falling into his practiced routine of assessing everything and everyone as gruff looking men and women began to pour into the room, his gaze analyzing them coolly for weapons or threats. They, thankfully for them, showed no sign of being threats despite their rough exteriors. Harry would hate to have to kill someone his first day on the job after all.
The people, Riddle's underlings, seemed to be trying not to stare at Harry. He saw one or two whisper to each other and giggle in a way that reminded Harry of schoolchildren. Most of them avoided staring at him directly. One of the larger men, though, seemed to look over at Harry appraisingly in a way that made his skin want to crawl off his body and wrap tightly the man's scarred neck.
Harry clenched his fists, taking a breath. He had better control than this. Jesus, he needed to get himself back on track.
Riddle looked pointedly at him, and Harry leaned nearer to him to hand over the folder. He tried to ignore the smell of his boss's cologne. Why did Riddle have to choose a smell Harry liked? Damn him.
He glanced around the room again, taking note of a curly haired woman who seemed to want to kill him with her eyes. Ignoring her, Harry sighed softly under his breath, tucking an escaped lock of hair back behind his ear. He allowed himself to fade into the background, holding himself in a way that made him fade into the chair he was sitting in.
Harry took a shaky breath, attempting to calm his nerves, as the sound of Riddle starting the meeting faded to the background of his thoughts.
Harry needed a drink. He glanced down at his watch – It wasn’t even 10 o'clock yet – well…it’s after four somewhere in the world, so Harry was sure a little liquor could do no harm. Maybe just a little sip…Wait, what’s going on?
Harry dragged himself back to the present, he had perhaps faded into the background a little too well. He really needed to stop spacing out.
He looked back to the table, only to discover that Riddle was the only one left at the table, with the door slowly closing behind the last person to leave.
Riddle, after shooting what Harry thought was a glare at him, stood up and lit a cigarette. Harry scrunched his nose at the smell, he never liked the smell, it reminded him too much of his uncle's car after a bad day.
Harry silently rose and followed after Riddle for the second time that day, honestly would it kill the man to slow down? His feet were going to kill him at this rate. He regretted wearing his heeled boots today, even if they made his legs look nice.
When Riddle stopped and stepped inside of the office of an older, grey haired man, Harry stood silently outside, the office much too cramped for more than two people to be inside, especially with how large Riddle was.
It was a few minutes into Harry's wait for Riddle that the light brown haired man from before rounded the corner, his eyes instantly flew to Harry and a sickening leering grin spread across the man's face.
Great, just great.
Harry’s hand slowly moved to grip the handle of the blade he had stowed away in his sleeve, keeping his eyes on the man out of the corner of his vision. Harry swiftly moved to face the man as he approached, his face turned into a scowl when the man opened his ugly mug to utter words at him, how dare he.
“Hey baby, it’s unusual to see a pretty bird such as yourself in a place like this.” The man's leering eyes roamed over Harry’s body similar to the way they had at the meeting., Yeah, Harry needed a shower after this
Harry’s scowl deepend and his eye twitched, all of his earlier fury coming back in full force. Just who was the man thinking he was talking to? Little lady? Pretty bird? The freak?
The man reached out and snatched Harry's arm, “how much d’ya cost for a night? Fifty? Sixty?”
Harry saw red, he was going to rip this damn man's spine out through his damn mouth. “Excuse me, I’m not a damn prostitute!” he growled.
Harry’s hands shot out and grabbed the man’s hand from where it was clinging onto him. Just as he was about to shatter each and every one of the bones in the fuckers hand, the door opposite of them opened.
“Samson, whatd’er you do’in? Da’s the bosses wife!”
Harry’s gaze jumped to the smaller mousy looking man, who was looking on in horror at the man who was still holding onto Harry’s wrist.
Also wife? Riddle’s married? Where is she in this situation?
“W-wife?” The man, Samson apparently, shrilled at a frequency much higher than Harry expected a man of his size to produce as his face with deathly pale and dropped Harry’s hand like it was on fire.
Samson dropped to his knees “Shit man, I didn’t know Riddle was married!” He looked pleadingly up at Harry, “ I didn’t mean it Mrs. Riddle, please, He’ll kill me!”
Harry looked down at the man in confusion, all of his earlier rage fading slightly, why was the man pleading to him? He wasn’t ‘Mrs. Riddle’, there wasn’t even a woman in the hallway.
The other shorter man waddled his way over, he was rather portly, and smacked Samson on the back of the head.
He snapped at Samson, “ don’t make her protect you, you bastard, if anything she should kill ya herself!” He looked regretfully over to Harry, “M’sorry Mrs. Riddle, I’ll have him punished right away, I dunno why Snape keeps hiring men like him.” He then bowed and dragged Samson out of the room before Harry could even formulate a reply.
Harry’s mind was reeling, Excuse them, they thought HE was Riddle’s wife?! How the shit did they come to that conclusion? Harry just got here this morning, surely they knew that!? He stared, gaping after the man, barely even noticing the wide eyed faces peering out of the cubicles surrounding them. The hell…?
As Harry is trying to figure out what the hell just happened, Riddle finally left the office, the other occupant left cowering in his wake.
Riddle shoots a confused look at him, clearly wondering why Harry looks five seconds away from a midlife crisis. Harry lets out an indecipherable noise that sounds to be at the right decibel to confuse a mouse, before slowly schooling his expression, though the deep red flush that remain on his cheeks dampened the effect.
As he hands Riddle the pack of cigarettes that had been left in Harry’s care, the mousy man returns, a shit-eating grin stretching across his face.
“Thomas Riddle, such a rascal you are, running off and getting married without telling one of your closest friends” Harry’s flush deepened at the man’s words, seriously? Riddle’s going to kill him. Like, Harry needs to write his will now before it was too late.
He nearly got whiplash when he heard Riddle’s response, his head turned so fast. “Well, I couldn’t give one of you bastards a chance to steal my bride could I Avery?” Deep red eyes glanced pointedly over at Harry, “Though, how did you realize that this lovely thing was my wife?”
Harry stared over at Riddle dubiously, the fuckery? HUH? He was going along with it??? LOVELY? Harry’s brain was going to malfunction, he was burning up brain cells by the second.
Avery smirked smugly and straightened his blazer, “well, it was obvious, who else would be right at your side other than a body guard or wife? And obviously it’s the latter, because no bodyguard is that pretty.”
Riddle laughed softly, “is that so? Well, I’m glad to employ such smart men” he turned to Harry, who was very very confused, but was doing a rather impressive job of suppressing it.
“Come along dear, we have things to get done today,”
Harry looked wide eyed up at Riddle, the menacing undertone of his boss's voice doing nothing to help his melting brain. Harry let out a soft squeak, jaw clenched to keep from gaping like a fish.
He stiffened when Riddle wrapped an arm around his waist and led him away from Avery, who was making his way over to one of the cubicles, probably to gossip.
Harry turned to Riddle, “y-you, Huh, what, why???” he stammered, trying to ask what in the world was going through Riddle's damn (handsome) head.
“What in the world was that? Why the hell did you not correct him? I'm not your damn wife!” Harry glared up at Riddle as he was dragged down the hall.
Riddle placed a warm calloused hand over Harry’s mouth, effectively silencing him. He reached out to tug at one of Harry’s curls, much to Harry's mortification.
“I didn’t correct him, because there was no point. Most of my higher ups have already decided that you are my wife.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, his earlier happy facade fading away.
He removed his hand from Harry’s mouth, with a sigh. “I don’t have time to correct their assumptions, I have a deal that needs to be made tonight, and I need you to go with me.”
He lit another cigarette as he paced, “you’ll need to pretend to be my wife while at the meeting, I’ll pay you extra for the inconvenience, but try to not make a fool of me.”
“Do I not have a say in this?” Harry asked lips pursed, on one hand, extra money, on the other…pretending to be Riddle’s wife, a woman, a WIFE…but money…
Riddle shot a look over at him, exasperation clear on his face. “The other option is not having a job period, I can always hire a new bodyguard.”
Harry winced, that was true. He straightened, staring directly into Riddle’s eyes as he fixed his shirt, smoothing any wrinkles.
“Fine, i’ll be your ‘wife’, but I will not portray myself as being weak, nor am I going to wear a dress” He narrowed his eyes at Riddle, he knew many men in organized crime had less than favorable views on women and how they should act. He couldn’t help but assume Riddle would view women as lesser, especially with how much of an asshole he probably definitely was.
Riddle chuckled, “I wouldn’t expect that of any woman, fake or otherwise.” He loomed over Harry, “I recommend you refer to me as Tom, it wouldn’t do to have my men believing that I don’t love my wife.”
Harry stiffened at the teasing lit in the man’s voice, leaning away from the man to maintain eye contact. What the fuck was his life.
Harry really needs a drink, and a vacation…like now…