BLACKMAILED BY THE BILLIONAIRE

Chapter 28: Arrived Drunk

Chapter 28: Arrived Drunk

Moments later, Harry arrived at my apartment, his state of inebriation unmistakable, yet it did nothing to diminish his allure. As I opened the door, the sight of him—slightly disheveled yet undeniably handsome—made my heart skip a beat. His face brightened at the sight of me, a soft glow of happiness cutting through the haze of alcohol.

We stepped inside, and as the door closed behind us, we found ourselves caught in that familiar, intense gaze we always seemed to share. It was as if our eyes were windows to our souls, seeking, questioning, understanding. This silent exchange of looks had always been there, even when misunderstandings and presumed animosities clouded our interactions. Now, with the veil of confusion slowly lifting, the reason behind his intense gazes became clearer to me.

Closing the distance between us, Harry's voice was laced with remorse. "I'm sorry for coming over so late...and in this state. I just needed to see you. You're like the air I breathe, Bella, essential to me every day." His words, despite his drunkenness, struck a chord deep within me.

Taking his hand, I guided him to the couch, mindful of his inebriated state. As we settled down, he drew me into his embrace, his lips finding the top of my head in a tender kiss. We sat there in silence, the comfort of his presence enveloping me like a warm blanket. I found myself wanting to stay like this forever, close to him, breathing him in, desiring him in every possible way..

After a moment, he spoke again, his voice heavy with regret. "Bella, I'm sorry for how I've treated you these past five years—calling you at all hours, expecting you to be at my beck and call. I was selfish, consumed by my desire for you. I convinced myself that if I couldn't have your heart, at least I could monopolize your time.

It was my way of keeping you close, of ensuring you were always around me. And when I thought about that call from another guy, it drove me mad. I thought you were intentionally trying to hurt me, and it made my anger boil over. I'm sorry for all of it, truly sorry for everything."

Harry's confession, raw and sincere, tugged at my heartstrings. Here he was, laying bare his mistakes and vulnerabilities, seeking forgiveness in the quiet of the night. It was a moment of revelation, of healing, that promised a new beginning, a chance to move forward from the shadows of the past into the light of understanding and mutual desire.

As the evening deepened into night, our conversation gradually faded into comfortable silence, and eventually, we both drifted off to sleep, nestled awkwardly on the couch. Waking to the stiffness that came from such an uncomfortable slumber, I realized a change of location was necessary. "We should probably move to the bed," I suggested, my cheeks warming at the implication, even though my intentions were innocent. "It's really not what it might seem; it's just late, and this couch isn't the best for sleeping. Plus, I don't want you to leave yet. We can continue our conversation in the morning, with clearer heads."

Once we moved to my bedroom, the atmosphere shifted to one of quiet understanding and mutual respect. Harry, in a gesture of modesty, removed only his shirt, maintaining a sense of decorum by keeping his pants on. I changed into my short pajamas, both of us navigating this new, unspoken boundary with care.

As we settled into bed, Harry's presence behind me was both comforting and grounding. He wrapped his arms around me, spooning me in such a tender, protective manner that it felt as though we were meant to fit together just so. That night, I experienced a tranquility in sleep that had long eluded me, enveloped in the warmth of his embrace. Everything about it felt profoundly right; the simple act of sharing a bed, devoid of any expectations beyond the need for closeness, spoke volumes of the connection we were beginning to rebuild.