BLACKMAILED BY THE BILLIONAIRE

Chapter 19: Chapter 19: Mistake

Chapter 19: Chapter 19: Mistake

The break of dawn did little to ease the restlessness churning within me. An unexpected notification from Harry had jolted me awake: 'On my way to pick you up.' The message ignited a sudden surge of apprehension, a stark reminder of the casual declaration he made last night about personally driving me to work henceforth.

In a flurry of panic, I crafted a quick response, fabricating an excuse about oversleeping, and urged him to proceed without me. The prospect of sharing a confined space with him, especially after the emotional rawness that had enveloped us last night, felt daunting. I was acutely aware of how our interactions had transformed, infused with a new level of intimacy and understanding that was both comforting and disconcerting. Anticipating the inevitable shift in office dynamics, laden with a tension that stemmed from our newfound openness, I braced myself for the awkwardness that awaited.

Upon my later arrival at the office, the atmosphere was thick with a palpable, unvoiced tension. Harry's eyes immediately locked onto mine as I entered, his gaze tracking my movement all the way to my office. Without missing a beat, he followed me inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click that seemed to echo in the charged silence of the room.

"Morning, Bella," he uttered as he approached, his voice laced with a nuance I couldn't quite decipher—was it a hint of uncertainty, or perhaps something deeper?

"Good morning, Harry," I replied, striving to maintain a veneer of calmness, though my voice slightly trembled, betraying my nervousness.

Leaning in, Harry invaded the space around my desk, his presence overwhelmingly close. "How's the Henderson file coming along?" he inquired in a low tone, his proximity igniting a flutter of awareness inside me, a reminder of the complexities that now colored our relationship.

"It's under control," I managed to say, my attention seemingly riveted to the documents in front of me, purposefully avoiding the piercing gaze I could feel emanating from Harry.

I could sense his intention to probe further, perhaps to revisit the emotional rawness of the previous evening, but I wasn't prepared to open that door again. "I need to get ready for the meeting," I stated, rising abruptly from my chair, a desperate attempt to put physical distance between us and the palpable tension.

However, as I moved to step around him, Harry extended his hand, lightly grasping my arm to halt my retreat. "Bella, about last night..." he started, his tone filled with a concern that caused a tight sensation in my chest.

Facing him, our proximity only served to amplify the inner chaos. "Harry, I'm fine," I insisted, perhaps too vehemently, an edge of defensiveness in my voice. "I've shed enough tears, no need to worry." I aimed to sound convincing, to present a facade of resilience, yet the threat of tears lingered, betraying the emotional turmoil beneath my surface.

He stepped closer, his hand tenderly cradling my cheek, forcing me to meet his gaze. There was a depth in his eyes, a sincere concern that stirred something within me. "I just needed to ask. You seemed so shattered last night, and I can't stand the thought of you crying over that asshole," he said, his voice soft. His touch ignited a flurry of sensations, a warmth spreading through me that I struggled to suppress. Internally, I battled the rising tide of desire, admonishing myself for reacting so viscerally to his nearness. "Really, I'm okay," I tried to reassure him, my smile strained as I fought to maintain control.

He studied me for a moment longer, skepticism clear in his expression. "Okay," he finally conceded, though it was evident he remained unconvinced. Reluctantly releasing me, he turned and exited my office, leaving me to grapple with the confusing array of feelings his brief touch had awakened.