∞ Millionaire ∞
Those are only a few of the nicknames that I so often call him.
Do they affect him at all?
All he ever does is smirk or laugh at my insults.
He's our 'prized' celebrity.
The one who is currently racking in all the money for our pocket books.
So he basically get's everything he wants at the snap of his fingers.
Whether it's for someone to clean up a mess of his, or for someone to run clear across town for his favourite strawberries.
God, I cannot stand that curly haired idiot.
All the employees suck up to him.
They do all that he asks for.
They practically worship the very ground he walks on.
I on the other hand treat him like any other client - no like any other human being.
I spare him no favouritism.
Just because he is the companies most prized possession right now does not mean that he is the most prized thing in this world to me.
Yes he is the one who is currently putting food on my table, but that does not mean that I have to grovel at his feet.
But I do have to be respectful.
I have to be nice.
I have to be considerate.
I have to be polite.
I have to obey Mr. Styles.
As much as I hate the lad, I have to follow the rules.
But I suppose when you are dealing with a millionaire you have to exemplify your very best behaviour.
No matter how much you can't stand them, you have to put on a fake facade.
No matter how much you want to strangle them, you can't.
Who am I you might ask?
I'm the curly haired bastards assistant.
Which means I'm the one basically taking care of him.
The one who makes sure that he has everything he needs.
You can say that I am basically his own personal slave.
I never signed up for this.
I didn't apply for this job just to babysit some arrogant pop star.
Screw my pitiful, fucking life.
A/N: Crappy sneak peak? I know and I am so sorry. But please tell me what you think? c: The actual prologue will be up soon! I promise! c: <3