How Not to Be Seduced by Billionaires (44 page)

I didn't want to lie to him. "Good night,” I said softly before closing the door.

Lesson #15

Your billionaire is not the only one who makes mistakes.

It was funny really, if I thought about how much I changed. Just a few months ago, if Constantijin had ever told me that he wanted me back, I would have forgiven him for anything. I would have been happy he had said those words, be fucking grateful for it even.

            But now, Constantijin had said more than those words and it was no longer enough. Because now I was painfully sure of how much I loved him, of how much loving someone could hurt. And I just didn’t know any more how much I was willing to risk again for another shot at love.

            December was upon us when my heart started mending, bit by bit. Life at the office was slowly getting back to normal, mostly because Constantijin was no longer a volcano that could explode any second. Nowadays, he was just…
gone.

            In the rare instances I saw Constantijin I couldn’t bear looking at him. There was just too much in his eyes for me to see. He was
my
Dutch playboy billionaire, and I loved him still. But it just didn’t feel enough now.

            George’s arms stretched over his head after a particularly long day at work. It was only three in the afternoon, and yet it felt like we had been working for an eternity. With the year coming to an end, it was crunch time for Kastein Inc., and we had tons of contracts we needed to have signed, sealed, and delivered before everyone left for Christmas break.

            “I need coffee,” George said. “Want one?”

            I saved my file and got to my feet as well. “I want caffeine, too, but
not
the one from the vendo. We’ll give ourselves a treat this time and go for real coffee.”

            “You just don’t want Mr. Fix It to rescue you again,” George teased as we stepped out of the office.

            “Oh, but I’m always up to rescuing you,” a voice drawled from behind.

            George and I froze. He lifted his shoulders in a helpless shrug as I glared daggers at him. Taking a deep breath, I turned around and smiled brightly at Drake. He still looked boyishly handsome, eyes twinkling in a familiar way. He had also been promoted this month, which technically made him my superior – in a distant way. “Good afternoon, Mr. Morrison.”

            Drake rolled his eyes. “If you call me that one more time, you’ll regret it.”

            I let out a fake gasp. “Are you actually
threatening
me? You, the guy who’s supposed to take care of me?”

            But Drake only smiled as he fell into step beside me. “It’s still under caring for you – just in a different way than usual.”

            Did he just…did Drake just promised something, umm, inappropriate?

            When I saw his innocent smile, I wailed, “Drake!” even as George laughed.

            Heads turned as we walked past people. Most of them were women, and I had no doubt they were probably gleefully thinking of ways to kill me for being lucky enough to be with two of the company's most handsome employees. The cafeteria was unusually full that afternoon, leaving us to crowd in one of those tiny booths at the end. I ended up squeezed between George and Drake.

            When George left to buy coffee for the three of us, I had the urge to scoot away and place a few more inches between Drake and me – especially when he leaned close to me and said, “You look very beautiful today, Yanna.”

            God! The way he was looking at me made me feel naked, like he could see through my lacy black dress. It had a high round neckline, long sleeves all the way to the wrists, and the skirt fell below the knees. Unfortunately, it was also skin-tight. Could that be the reason why Drake was acting more, err, aggressive than usual?

            Clearing my throat, I said weakly, “You look good today, too.”

            He laughed.

            I glanced at him in confusion and caught on right away with the amusement in his eyes.

            “Coffee’s here,” George trilled as he bent forward to place the tray on the table the same time I gasped in mock anger, hitting Drake’s arms. My elbow connected with one of the cups of steaming hot coffee.

The next thing I knew, Drake was hissing in pain as the burning hot liquid poured down on him, leaving a brown stain on his white polo.

"Oh my God, I’m so sorry!" Embarrassed, I quickly took a couple of napkins to prevent the stain from spreading further.

"Clumsy Yanna," George began to sing over and over.

I glared at him before returning to task. "I didn't mean it."

Drake gently pried my hand away. "It's okay," he said, smiling.

I started to smile back when I became aware of someone staring at me from a distance. It was Constantijin, and my heart squeezed painfully at the sight of him. Suddenly, I couldn’t pull my eyes away from him.

He looked even more beautiful than I let myself remember, dressed casually in a black polo and khakis, like he had come here from…a business meeting at the beach? I tried not to think about who could have been with him earlier because I had no right to wonder about those. It was the same reason why he shouldn’t be looking at me with bleak silver eyes.

It was over between us.

When his gaze drifted towards Drake, I held my breath. And then Constantijin slowly made his tense posture relax, managing a wry smile as he gazed at me.

We turned away the same time. George and Drake looked at me in understanding silence.

With an awkward shrug, I muttered, “It’s just…one of those things.” I wanted to sound breezy but failed.

George squeezed my hand. "It’s going to be all right, Yanna."

            I could only answer with a smile because these days I just didn’t know. Keeping my heart safe didn’t feel right or wrong. It just felt nothing.

            When George and I walked back to our office, having parted ways with Drake, he suddenly pulled me back by the arm.

            In the act of twisting the knob, I let my hand fall away as I gazed at him questioningly.

            “Yanna, it’s been more than a month.”

            “Yeah. I know.”

            “He’s told you he loves you.”

            “Yeah, I know.”

            “So doesn’t that tell you something…about
you
?”

            I started rubbing the sides of my temple because my head suddenly hurt. “George, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

            Pulling on the collar of his checkered polo, a sure sign that he was about to say something he didn’t want to say and I didn’t want to hear, George muttered, “You still haven’t left his apartment.”

            “But why would I when---oh.”

            The threat that was supposedly hanging over my head didn’t exist – had long stopped to exist. It stopped being a threat the moment Constantijin said he loved me. And I…I made myself forget that because I was a coward, too.

George squeezed my hand. "It's time to make a choice, Yanna. You can't keep punishing him forever."

            I blinked the tears away, not wanting to break down again at work Oh God, I was so stupid. I had pushed Constantijin away, but I couldn’t bear to let him go, and both of us were suffering because of it.

            “I…please tell Charli I had to go.” And then I was running out of the office.

            When I got home, I took out my suitcase, throwing them open on the floor. Then I started dumping my clothes into them, and every dress that fell into the suitcase made me cry harder because I felt so stupid.

            It was a struggle to pull the heavy suitcases through the doorway. They weighed, like, a ton, probably because I also had my
manga
collection in them. Grunting at the effort I was exerting, I pulled the door open and with one last mighty shove, I finally managed to push them out.

            I breathed a sigh of relief.

            “Yanna?”

            “Holy shit!” I think I jumped several feet off the ground when I heard Constantijin’s voice. It took more than a moment to get my breathing back in control and make myself turn around to face him.

            He stood by the doors that led to the fire exit, panting a little, but there was a small, beautiful smile playing on his lips. And I found out why he was smiling when he said wryly, “Holy shit, huh?”

            My eyes started getting itchy again. He remembered that, too?

            Then his gaze fell to the suitcases behind me and he sucked his breath, looking like somebody had stuck a knife in his chest.

            There were so many things I wanted to say to him, but coward that I now was, I mumbled, “W-what are you doing here?”

            “George,” was all he said, his gaze still on the suitcases.

            Just seeing him look so hurt made
me
feel hurt, my chest constricting so badly I just knew. Oh dear God, I loved this man so, so much. I started to speak, to explain what I just realized and what I knew I wanted to do, but he beat me to it.

            “Yanna?” His voice broke at the end.

            My tear ducts broke with it. I tried to smile but couldn’t. “Yeah?” And then I was gasping because Constantijin was suddenly standing next to me, holding my shoulders as he forced me to walk back. When my back hit the wall, his fists hit the surface with it, making me jump.

            “Constantijin!”

            “Yanna, what else can I fucking do to make you believe me?” The anger burning a light in his eyes slowly died as I gazed up at him, crying silently, trying to find the right words to put an end to all this.

            “Is this really it?”

            As I visibly struggled to speak, he cursed, making me flinch.

"God, Yanna, do I make you that sad? Can you never forgive me?"

            I tried to make him understand, but all I could choke out was “No.”

            He paled, and it was his turn to struggle to speak. “I…I understand. I have no one to blame but myself but please…
please.
” His voice turned hoarse. “Please don’t leave.”

            I could fear his fingers moving, his hands unclenching and clenching at each side of my face. Yet they never touched me, as if he couldn’t make himself to. “I don’t think I can bear it if you leave, Yanna.”

            Oh, God.

            “Constantijin, it’s not---”

            “Just don’t leave.” And then he was on his knees.

            “Oh my God. Get up, please.” I tried pulling him up but he had turned into immovable stone, his beautiful face a portrait of despair. “Let me explain, okay?”   

            “I don’t need you to explain how I fucked up, Yanna,” he said in a dull voice. “But you need to hear
me
explain.” He dragged a long, hard breath in. “I know you finally realized my threat was fucking bullshit.”

            I cried harder. His English had gone to hell, and his Dutch accent made me understand only half of what he was saying. It was one sign after another knocking on my heart, telling me to see what I should have seen all along.