Double Agent Styles

Being the daughter of the most wanted man of the mafia, Cassia Valencia is once again on the run. This time, however, her father assigns her a bodyguard, none other than Harry Styles. Her built in arch enemy.


2. I.


Gabriella Wilde as Cassiopeia (Cassia) Valencia

Harry Styles as Harry & Marcel Styles

Liam Payne as Liam Valencia (Cassia's Brother)

Taylor Hill as Vincenza Valencia

Tom Cruise as Don Massimiliano Valencia (Italian Mafia Leader)



            I found my calling when I was nine years old.


            I wasn’t book smart enough to be a con-artist and I wasn’t educated enough with numbers and finances to pull off loan sharking schemes.


            But I could steal about anything and everything and get away unscathed. Not to mention I wasn’t too bad with a deck of cards either. Texas Hold’em was more like my religion than it was a game. Professional gambler and robber, that was my main role in my family’s organization.


            I never questioned the morality of my purpose. Maybe it was because my father started me out young, younger than he had with my brothers and sister. It was just before my tenth birthday that we hosted our first heist together. We were located in a quaint part of Bel Air in the middle of a high-end jewelry store. Father said he was taking me to pick out the prettiest diamond in the entire country. When I asked him if that meant that I would be doing the choosing since this was meant as a gift for me, he claimed that he was in search for something he knew that I would love.


            That’s when I realized that he was merely using me as a pawn in one of his diversions.


            I didn’t mind. I loved my dad and despite everything, I knew that this was the life I was born into. It was inevitable; you can't choose your family. And for that I was determined to prove my worth to him. I wanted to be valuable to the cause, I didn’t want to be disowned like one of my brothers for refusing to partake in the ploys.


            Father always said that heists would have to be a two-person job. Never venture in alone to assure that you wouldn't face the penalties. The reason for this being someone has to do the talking to get the seller to earn your trust and believe that you are a deserving customer so that the object of interest, this case being the diamond, could be removed from the glass confines.


            Once it was out in the open, the person tasked with the distraction would make small talk or complain about the service or even feign an illness while the other worked to remove the security brackets and trackers so that it could be taken out of the store silently. It was crucial to have more than one person to ensure that nothing would go wrong.


            Momentarily after we had stepped foot inside the jewelers, my father had to rush out to answer a pertinent phone call. He instructed me to wait inside with orders to not touch anything or do anything. Being the rebel at that I was, even back then, I didn’t listen.


            He left me with a sketch of the necklace that was to be coveted. After studying the entire store skeptically, I stumbled upon it. It had already been foolishly left on the counter, someone else must have been after it. Probably our enemies. Father would have a fit if they had gotten to it before us.


            I knew he had told me to not attempt to try this by myself, but I couldn’t help it. Instantly, I screamed and wailed pretending that I had lost my parents. The owner came out from the backroom immediately, in a frenzy. He said that he would try to call them for me so I belted out a fake number for him to fumble with. While he had his back turned, I successfully detached the security latch and slipped out, the gods of stealth on my side. I grabbed my father’s arm motioning for him to begin sprinting with me to the car that we had parked around back.


            When we were to safety inside the sedan, I revealed to him my conquest.


            A two-man job and I had done it alone before my age had reached the double digits. That was the day that my father knew that I was going to be an essential asset to the mafia that he led.


            “Cassiopeia, hurry please. You are to leave immediately,” my father’s firm tone broke me out of my reverie. I knew he meant business when he chose to call me by my full name. I was lounging about on the sofa of our hotel room, our time here in New York was so temporary that we hadn’t even wasted a minute to con a rental house. That was fine by me. The process took longer than usual because of all of the strict laws in this area, it was harder to work out the kinks. The hotel room is quite simple since we could just card it to somebody else’s tab, no questions asked.


            I stood from my position, switching the News channel off and met my father’s tired copper gaze. “Why do I have to go with him? How will I know he’s on our side if I’ve never met him before? I don’t trust him!”


            Dad towered over me at an intimidating six-foot height. The wrinkles upon his brow became prominent as he lectured, “Are you questioning my judgment, piccola?”


            I cringed. I hated when he referred to me as a little girl when I was nothing of the sort. I struggled to find words after the weight of his insult remained in the air. “N-no, I just—”


            “You were aware that this would be happening for a few days now. You will be going with him. That’s that.”


            I groaned internally. It was time to travel internationally to our hometown of Italy because the brink of a battle was upon us. Father had to reunite with my brother and sister so that we could hold a family meeting with the entire unit to counsel and assess what measures were to be taken. They had always ventured off together on their own while I stood by father. Partially because Vincenza and Liam were both ten and eleven years older than me, respectively, but also partially because I knew father wanted to constantly keep tabs on me.


            He wanted me right under his nose so that he knew my whereabouts and current schemes at all times. He’ll never outright admit it, but I knew that I was his favorite child. I was the last thing given to him by his wife, my mother, so he cherished me the most.


            This is why we had to travel separately some of the time, in fear that if someone in particular was after him while he was in transit, he didn't want me to get dragged down with him. Amidst my constant protestations, he was forceful with this demand so I always obliged. He was always fine with letting me travel alone.


            Until now.


            “Who is this man?” I pressed, wanting to immediately size up the image of my so called ‘protector.’ I huffed at the thought, this was degrading in every sense. I was perfectly capable of handling myself.


            “Harry,” said a gruff, husky voice from behind me. It was accented, different from my father’s thick Sicilian dialect.


            It was British.


            I turned around in a flash to be met with a pair of jaded gems that appeared as guarded as his stance. His posture was straight and proper and he held his hands together behind his back. He had to be well over six feet since he was a tad bit taller than my father. His legs were spread apart slightly and I could tell from his body position alone that he was one to stand his ground. He was extremely buff, the outline of his biceps protruded through the tight long-sleeved shirt. If he were to flex I have no doubt that the fabric would rip to pieces.    


            He was dressed monochromatically, no trace of color anywhere apart from his piercing emerald gaze. The collar of his black button up was tightened all the way up to the nape of his neck. It only made him seem all the more intimidating.


            Not to mention, wildly attractive.


            I cowered next to my dad and stood on my tip-toes to whisper in his ear, “Father, this man is a Brit, in case you haven’t noticed! Are you sure he’s on our side? In fact, I just recently saw his picture in the papers. Have you been reading? He’s deceiving us!” I urged. I took a deep breath, it wasn’t my intent to divulge all of that apprehension at once but I couldn’t stop the words from flowing out.


            Not only did I have to be burdened with company for the duration of our latest endeavor, but it was with a man I had never even met before. Father claims that he is his right-hand man and is always the brains behind his most dubious and successful sprees, but I don’t believe it. If he is constantly backing us up, why have I never seen him before? And why in the world would my father trust somebody outside of our blood relatives, let alone a man who is part of the British group?


            “He has a twin brother, Marcel. That is who you saw in the media. This boy has been working with me since before you were even born and is far too intelligent to get his face plastered on television. Useless Brits,” he mutters the last two words so lowly under his breath it’s almost inaudible. He proceeds to shift his weight to one side, suitcase strongly in his grip. By the looks of it, I would say he's going to be taking off right after this conversation. 


            I glanced in the stranger’s direction again, squinting my pale gray eyes at him. I wanted to come off just as threatening as he had. “Harry what?”


            Without so much as blinking he replied, “Styles. Harry Styles.” 


A/N: sorry if this chapter sucks, I feel like first chapter suckage is alwayss inevitable. BUT AY HOLLA STYLES TWINS ;) If you liked, let me know feedback is always appreciated! 

Btw this is what Harry looks like in this chapter (minus the flower thing on the side ok ily)

And here's a visual of Cassia in this chap :)


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