Blackmailing The Billionaire

"Are you fucking blind?" The Greek god in front of me screams in agony.

I had accidentally spilt hot soup on our most important customer; he was our boss's special guest. Kill me, now!

"I... sir, I am so... sorry," I stutter due to fear. I remember our manager informing us about this certain customer.

The man right here was described as "The Most Notorious Billionaire of America." He owns multiple casinos and bars in Las Vegas, but that is not even half his empire; he is the CEO of one of the leading companies with multiple branches all around the world. Surrounded by wealth, he has a high temper and attitude. He dates the most famous models only. That is what the paparazzi have posted. And what did I do? I tumbled a 70 degrees Celsius hot soup right on him.

Wait a minute, rich people wear expensive clothes! That three-piece suit must be the work of the most famous designer; rich people don't expect anything less.

I grab the handkerchief and start rubbing it all over his suit, his muscular thighs and even his crotch in a state of absolute fret.

"What do you think you're doing? Don't touch me, you stupid waitress!" The man bellows, instantly standing up to his might. He must be over six feet for sure. His looks are quite deceiving. If not for a businessman he should have been a model.

Even if I am not a man, I would totally buy the dresses he models, that is if I have the money.

"Are you even listening to me? This is the worst restaurant ever with the most moronic staff. Who even appointed this trash. Take me to Lisa right now!" the man orders our manager and my little bubble breaks.

"Sir, please do not complain... I will lose my job. I'm really sorry. I'll... pay for your suit if that is the reason for your complaint," I utter without even thinking. I need this job, badly!

"Hah." The man pulls out a sarcastic laugh.

"You will pay for this?" he taunts, pointing to his clothes.

I nod my head in uncertainty. What did I get myself into?

"Do you know how much it costs? Your lifetime savings won't make up for this suit. It's fucking 50k, so tell me how exactly will you pay me back?" he asks with one brow raised, questioning me or more like humiliating me.

"I won't be able to, sir. I'm sorry," I whisper, looking down and backing away a little bit. He has a way with intimidating people.

The manager leads the businessman to our owner Lisa's office right beside the reception.

The businessman enters without knocking while I stand outside waiting to be called by the boss. I have already messed up; I don't want to be disrespectful now.

"Are you waiting for an invitation or what?" a voice screeches out. I look up to see a woman in her mid-thirties, wearing the most elegant dress, with real ruby embedded on it, her earrings are made of blue diamond and on her neck rests a beautiful matching necklace. The length of the heel of her stiletto is longer than my short-lived career.

I hurriedly step in and stand beside, obediently.

"Tell me, Noah, what seems to be the problem?" the woman asks politely.

"That seems to be the problem." The man, named Noah, points at me as if I am utter trash and my sole presence is a harm to his high standards. This man can make you feel so low within a second.

"Madam, it was an accident. I was clumsy and I admit my fault. You can cut my salary, or if Mr. Noah wants to punish me in any way then I accept it, but I desperately need this job," I beg, trying my luck.

"You're fired," she says dismissively, paying no heed to my plea. My hopes crushed now; I worked so hard to get this job. My previous job never made the bills and it was always a huge headache.

"Please, just one more chance, I swear I won't mess up next time," I beg. At this point I seem pathetic but anyone in my place will do the same. I have responsibilities.

"Do you want me to call the guards?" Lisa asks rudely. I shake my head and then leave the office with my head bowed down.

"So tell me sweetie, anything else I can do for my nephew?" is the last thing I hear before leaving the restaurant. So they are related.

As I step outside the restaurant, the warm air hits me and heat rushes in. The rays of the sun penetrate in, giving me a headache.

But I wait outside, waiting for Mr. Noah. I have to try one more time; I can't lose this job or else Morty will hurt me. No, Morty will freak out so badly, I have to try one more time.

After 15 minutes of holding myself together in the scorching heat, Mr. Noah finally comes out. I look at him with hopeful eyes. He glances at me, smirking, and then puts on his black shades, heading towards his limousine.

I stop him in his path, clutching his cuff tightly in desperation.

"Sir, please understand my helplessness. I beg of you to give me back my job. Surely the boss will listen to you as you are closely related," I beg, sounding extremely desperate.

"Leave my cuff," he orders in a strong voice.

"No, not until I get my job back. You're not being fair, sir," I insist, adamant on getting my job back.

The man loses his temper; within a second he rotates my wrist such that my wrist is under his control.

"Don't fucking pester me, peasant," he grits out, probably annoyed by my needy attitude.

He then, instead of leaving my wrists, puts pressure on it. It starts hurting and I try to pull my wrists back.

"Stop it, sir, you're hurting me," I whimper with tearful eyes.

The man leaves me with a push and I fall to the ground. The man sits in his imported limousine and drives away, leaving a jobless and broken me in the smoke of the car.

If I am not able to pay Morty back in time, he will again abuse me and my little brother. I need to find a new job fast!