How Not to Be Seduced by Billionaires (39 page)

“Because I felt like it.” And then he gave me one of those shrugs again.

Now absolutely confused, I said, “Something’s seriously wrong with you.”

And the hateful man answered with another shrug.

By the time we finished grocery shopping, I could only stare in horror at our cart, which I literally had to use all my weight to push all the way to the cashier. “Won’t you even help me?”

Constantijin gave me an innocent look. “But you always say you don’t need my help, sweetheart. I just want to show you how much I respect your need for us to be equals.”

“You---”

“If you say something bad about me, I’m going to kiss you.”

Conscious of the wide-eyed stare from the cashier, I snapped my mouth shut and tried to satisfy myself by glaring at him.

It only made him laugh and despite his threat, he pulled me in his arms and kissed me anyway. The kiss was over before I could even react and by the time I got my senses back, Constantijin was calmly unloading our cart.

“That would be $245,” the cashier said minutes later.

“
What
?”

But he only smiled and said, “Go on, pay for it.”

When we got home, Constantijin told me he wanted us to watch one of the pay-per-view movies offered. He asked me to pick one and when I did, he suddenly told me he wanted to watch the sci-fi thriller, which he knew I absolutely loathed. Then afterwards, he said he wanted me to cook breakfast for him – even though he knew there was nothing else I loathed more than cooking.

Constantijin made all these insane demands throughout the night and all the way till dawn. When he told me I had better skip work for the day, I could only agree. It was the very first time I was also glad to see him go. Constantijin in a weird mood was totally exhausting.

His housekeeper, Nora, woke me up around noon, bringing the wireless phone to me and saying it was Constantijin’s mother.

“I’m guessing you had a bad time settling on your first night?” Marge murmured sympathetically when I greeted her with a scratchy voice.

Before I knew it, I was telling her everything that happened.

I was kind of hoping she’d say I was right for thinking Constantijin had been such a jerk all night long but she burst into laughter instead.

“W-what’s so funny?” I blurted out, confused and not a little disgruntled.

“I want to tell you a story, Yanna. When Constantijin was sixteen, he asked Erik if he could have his own car. Instead, my husband gave him a puppy – as a way of teaching him how to be mature and responsible. Now, Constantijin always had a soft spot for animals but he was too proud and so he didn’t want to let Erik know he was also happy about the pup.”

With another chuckle, Marge continued, “So all the time, Constantijin would pretend that he’d forget to feed the pup when all the while he had given one of the maids a strict feeding schedule for it. He’d pretend he had no time to train the pup even though he’d sneak out in the middle of the night to check on it. And then he’d go shopping for supplies and take the tags off before coming home. He’d tell us they were old secondhand stuff his friends had thrown out.” She paused and there was a smile in her voice when she asked, “Do you see where I’m going?”

“Yes,” I choked out because I did.

“I’m so glad, Yanna, so glad he’s so happy with you.”

Lesson #10

All good things with your billionaire must come to an end.

“You don’t look okay, Yanna,” Constantijin shouted at me two weeks later, gazing at me in concern. He was seated at the head of the table and I was seated at the opposite end, a good twenty feet separating us because I had insisted that just for once we gave his larger-than-life dining table a try.

            “I’m okay.” I tried to shout back – I kind of had to because it was the only way to get heard. But my voice came out weak. As another wave of pain struck my belly, I bent slightly forward in an effort to keep it from hurting more.

            Constantijin was at my side the next moment. “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

Cold sweat bathed my skin and it took all my will to speak. "I just have to…rest.” Another wave of pain burst inside me and I almost pushed him away in my haste to leave the room.

“Where are you going?”

Ignoring his question, I went through the door that connected our suites and headed straight to the bedroom Marge and I had brainstormed to decorate but I never got to use.

Locking myself inside the bathroom, I quickly snatched one of the pads from cabinet over the sink and tore the package with shaky fingers.

Dysmenorrhea was such a bitch.

When I came out, I was surprised and unreasonably irritated to see Constantijin waiting inside my bedroom.

"I have my period," I told him shortly as I walked past him to switch the air-conditioning on. I crawled into bed and pulled the covers up, determinedly closing my eyes so he’d get the message and leave me alone.

This month’s cycle felt more painful than usual, and I wondered if it was because of all the, err, things Constantijin and I did in bed.

“Is there anything I can do?”

I opened my eyes to glare at him and snap, “Nothing.” It was that or cry. I hated everything about myself and I hated everything about him, too. It must be the hormones since Constantijin looked as gorgeous as he always was, even though he only had his sweat pants on and his flawlessly smooth and toned chest was completely bare.

“Just leave me alone,” I said before I turned my back on him. I wanted to cry and when I heard the door close softly behind him, I did cry. God, I hated dysmenorrhea.

The pain didn’t stop and I started half-beating my belly even though I knew it wasn’t a healthy thing to do. But I also knew by experience that it was the quickest way to numb the pain, and so I rhythmically hit my belly with my fist, focusing on the thumping sensation until my eyelids began to droop.

“Stop that.” Constantijin’s voice gradually penetrated my pain-hazed condition some time later. The bed dipped as he took my hands away.

Blinking groggily, I twisted halfway around just in time to see Constantijin get into the bed with me, still in his sweatpants and nothing else. I bit back a gasp of pain when he accidentally nudged against me.

He must have seen the expression on my face anyway since he said sorry quickly, almost shamefully.

“It’s…okay.” Those two words practically zapped the remaining energy I had left and my eyelids fell closed again.

Soothing hands came to rest on my shoulders and began kneading. It proceeded systematically down my back then going up again.

“I read online that massages are supposed to keep it from hurting.”

Tears pricked my eyes when I realized he had actually researched about what I was going through.

“Tell me where you want a massage."

Too weak and in pain to refuse anymore, I pointed to my belly and whispered, "It hurts there."

He started kneading gently.

Ah. Bliss.

Are you sure this is okay?"

"Don't stop or I'll kill you."

He laughed.

After a while, I tried to thank him drowsily. “Constantijin, I…”

"Sshh..just rest, okay?"

I couldn't help it anymore.

"I love you," I mumbled before going to sleep.

If I wasn't too weak, tired, and hurt, maybe I would have felt Constantijin stiffen all the way, his hands freezing for a millisecond. The air expelled from his mouth was strangled, as if the words had stopped him from breathing.

But pain had numbed my senses, and I didn’t notice any of it. Snuggling closer, I mumbled again, “I love you.”

Lesson #11

Beware of how your billionaire does everything exquisitely,

even with the way he draws blood.

If the first two weeks of living with Constantijin had been bliss, everything else that followed was the opposite. And it took me a while, but I eventually realized that the changes started, like, all the way back to the day I had said it.

The day I had told him I loved him.

            I hadn’t taken the words back, though. I wasn’t the type to beat around the bush. I had said it. So I might as well stick with it. Besides, it wasn’t, like, I asked him to marry me or something.

            And of course you should know by now if I started, like, talking this way it meant I was in a bad shape – worse than I ever thought possible.

Day Twenty-Nine

George was startled when he saw me fixing my stuff at exactly five in the afternoon. "You're going home already?"

            “Yup,” I said brightly. “Constantijin has, like, this really important and boring meeting so he says it’s better that I go home first.” I didn't want George to know how hurt I was about it.

In the past, Constantijin would actually
sulk
whenever I chose not to wait for him. But now, he couldn't, like, wait to push me out of the door.

"Oh." George seemed like he wanted to say something.

I went back to putting the rest of my stuff into my bag, trying to do it as quickly as I could. I didn’t want to give George a chance to succumb to the temptation of telling me what he felt he had to say.

            George cleared his throat. “So…how will you get home?”

            “The bus,” I replied cheerfully while avoiding his look. My eyes felt really itchy, and I had to clench my fists for a moment to keep myself from rubbing it. But honestly, it wasn’t, like, tears or anything. They were just really
itchy.

           
I mean, I had nothing to cry about. Just because Constantijin had suddenly turned all cold on aloof didn’t mean it was something to cry about!

            God, my eyes itched so badly!

            “You’re taking the bus?” George burst out. “But doesn’t Mr. Kastein has a driver---”

            I cut him off in a flat tone, saying, “He offered. I refused. It’s too much of a bother when the driver has to come back here afterwards.”

            George and I left together, and I ignored the way his glance kept darting towards Constantijin’s office as we passed by its door. I totally had no plans saying goodbye.

            Half an hour later and I was still waiting for the bus. I touched my eyes, and my fingers came out wet. It must be a really bad irritation because they were, like, itchy as hell.

            My phone rang and I answered it by the fifth ring, knowing Constantijin would just keep on calling if I didn’t answer.

"Where are you?" Constantijin snapped immediately.

"Bus station, where else?"

"You didn't even say goodbye," he accused.

I wanted to ask
why.
What was the point of saying goodbye when he always acted like
he
was the one itching to say goodbye to me? But I didn’t ask it. I was too scared of where that conversation would lead so I just mumbled, “Sorry. I was in a hurry to get home.”