BLACKMAILED BY THE BILLIONAIRE

Chapter 3: In the Eye of the Storm

The ascent to Harry's penthouse was a quiet journey, each floor passed amplifying the turmoil bubbling within me. When the elevator doors opened to reveal Harry lounging in the living room, my heart pounded against my ribcage. He was casually dressed in a white t-shirt and black joggers, exuding an effortless, raw magnetism that was quintessentially Harry. But tonight, his usual poised demeanor was replaced with a tense air of unease. Could this really be an emergency?

I stepped into the room tentatively, but before I could even think of sitting down, Harry rose to his feet and approached me. His presence was towering, his intense eyes scrutinizing me under the dim lighting, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Why are you dressed like that, Bella?" His voice was cold, an edge of accusation lacing his words, as his eyes roamed over me, taking in every detail of my club attire.

Struggling to keep my voice steady, I replied, "I was out at a club... with a friend, when you called."

His eyes narrowed, dissecting my appearance with a gaze that lingered uncomfortably long. "At a nightclub, Bella? Really?" he pressed, his tone a dangerous mix of curiosity and something darker.

I felt a knot of confusion form in my stomach. Why was he more concerned about my whereabouts and attire than the supposed emergency? "Look, sir—"

He interrupted me with a laugh devoid of humor, sending a chill down my spine. "How many times must I remind you, Bella? Drop the 'sir.' It's Harry. Just Harry. And you're pushing my patience tonight. Now, answer me. Why were you at the nightclub?"

His interrogation style left no room for evasion, and the way he said my name – a simple word, yet laden with a possessive undertone – made it clear this wasn't just about my whereabouts; it was about control.

His interruption was a jolt back to reality, a stark reminder of the control he wielded. "I was out celebrating a friend's birthday," I lied smoothly, not daring to reveal the true reason for my night out – a celebration of my impending freedom from him.

"You don't have friends, Bella," he retorted with a sharp edge. His words were a cold reminder of the isolation I'd been living in, a direct consequence of his relentless demands.

The infuriating smirk on Harry's face told me he relished the fact that he was the reason for my lack of a social life. "Actually, I do have a friend. Her name is Lisa, if you must know," I retorted, my voice steady despite the tumult inside me.

Harry's derisive laughter cut through the air, sending a wave of irritation through me. "You said 'friends,' implying more than one," he sneered, each word dripping with condescension, highlighting my social isolation since I'd been under his employ.

I bristled at his insinuation. "Actually, I met some guy tonight. So yes, I have more than one friend now," I retorted, my voice a mix of defiance and frustration.

His demeanor shifted suddenly, his gaze becoming a predatory glare. He leaned in, his breath hot against my skin. "What's this, Bella? Spreading your legs for some new fling?" he taunted, the accusation in his voice like venom.

His accusation hit me like a physical blow, igniting a fiery anger inside me. "Open my legs? Really, Harry? For your information, since working for you, my personal life has been nonexistent. The only thing keeping me company is a goddamn vibrator!" The words erupted from me, a volcanic release of pent-up frustration and indignation.

The moment the confession tumbled from my lips, a tidal wave of regret and embarrassment swept over me. I had allowed Harry to get under my skin, revealing a part of my private life I never intended to share. My cheeks burned with a volatile cocktail of shame and rage.

Harry's initial shock quickly morphed into a derisive laugh, the sound echoing mockingly in the spacious penthouse. I stood there, wishing the ground would swallow me whole. His laughter felt like a thousand needles pricking at my already fragile composure.

His laughter felt like a direct assault on my dignity. I stood there, fists clenched at my sides, seething with a mix of humiliation and rage. Then, Harry leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, suggestive tone. "You know, Bella, you could have just come to me. I could have helped you out... more personally." he said, his implication clear and his gaze predatory.

His insinuation was the final straw. I snapped, my patience shattered. "How dare you!" I exploded, my voice sharp with fury. "You think this is a joke? You think you can just make lewd comments about my sex life and offer your... services? Fuck you, Harry!"

Harry's expression darkened, his amusement replaced by a cold, menacing intensity. "Watch your mouth, Bella. I'm still your boss."

"No, you're not my boss, not anymore!" I shouted back, my anger reaching its peak. "I'm so sick of your controlling, egotistical bullshit! I quit!

We stood there, inches apart, our anger a tangible force. Harry's eyes were like ice, his jaw clenched tightly. "You think you can just walk away?

"Harry! I've given you everything – my time, my energy, my fucking sanity! And for what? To be treated like a puppet on your strings?" I was nearly breathless, my heart pounding in my chest.

Harry's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he matched my fury. "You're my employee, Bella! You're supposed to be available when I need you, not out gallivanting in nightclubs!"

"Being available doesn't mean being at your beck and call 24/7, Harry! I'm a human being, not some puppet you can control!" I shot back, my voice laced with bitterness. "I quit, effective immediately. Go fuck yourself, Harry." With those final words, I turned on my heel and walked out of his penthouse, leaving him behind.

—

The day after our fiery clash, I definitely chose to vanish from Harry's radar, determined to maintain my newfound independence. My phone became a relentless torrent of Harry's calls and texts, each message more commanding and infuriated than the last. His voice echoed through my apartment from the voicemails he left, each one dripping with a potent mix of anger and command, demanding my presence at work.

As the sun began to dip towards the horizon, my resolve was tested by the unexpected sound of a firm knock. Peering through the peephole, my heart sank. There stood Harry, his posture rigid with fury. With a hesitant hand, I opened the door, only to have him barge past me, an embodiment of unyielding dominance.

"You will be at work tomorrow, Bella," he declared, his voice not just a demand but an expectation of obedience. "You don't get to walk away. You're too important to what I do."

His intrusion into my personal space was a stark reminder of his overbearing nature. "I quit, Harry!" I protested vehemently, my voice laced with anger and frustration. "I can't stand working under these conditions any longer!"

Harry turned to face me, his eyes cold, a sneer playing on his lips. "Your feelings don't matter in this, Bella. You're valuable to my business, and that's where you'll stay. You don't get to make decisions here."

I felt a surge of rebellion at his words. "I'm not a piece of property, Harry! You can't just demand I return!"

He stepped closer, his stature towering over me, the alpha male asserting his dominance. "Listen and listen well, Bella. You will return to work. This isn't a request; it's an order. Fix your attitude and be there tomorrow, or you'll face consequences you can't even begin to imagine."

His threats hung in the air, thick with menace. His presence in my apartment was not just an invasion; it was a clear statement of his refusal to accept my departure.

"I refuse to be bullied by you, Harry!" I retorted, though my voice trembled under his intense gaze.

Harry's smirk was one of absolute certainty. "See you at work, Bella. Don't be late," he said, his tone brooking no argument.

With that, he left, his departure leaving a trail of unease in its wake. I slumped against the door, engulfed in a whirlwind of emotions – fear, anger, and an overwhelming sense of entrapment. I had made a stand for my freedom, but Harry was a man who thrived on control, and he was not about to let me go without a fight.