How Not to Be Seduced by Billionaires (6 page)

            But obviously, that wasn’t an option I had at work.

            I took a shower early and chose a perfectly modest outfit for my first day – black blouse, matching slacks, and low-heeled pumps. My minis would be on hiatus until further notice. 

            Megan and Charli were already at work when I got to Kastein, Inc., making me vow to myself that I was
not
going to let my alarm snooze
thrice
starting tomorrow. Hopefully, double snoozes would be enough to have me arriving at work earlier than my superior.

            When I got to the office Charli had directed me to, I saw the two other marketing executives she had told me about. My heart sank. One of them was Bottle Blonde. She had on a collared blouse as well, but unbuttoned way, way down to reveal more than an eyeful of her Ds. Next to her, I felt like I had breasts the size of eggs.
Robin
eggs, even. Her skirt was way longer than mine, but they had mid-thigh slits at each side, and her legs looked endlessly long with her fuck-me stilettos.

            Immediately, I thought of Bottle Blonde coming up to Constantijin in her getup and my heart constricted.

            The last one to make up our threesome was George, a gay Ivy League graduate who seemed to have a fondness for dorky-looking glasses and checkered shirts. I had noticed him in the interview, and he had the same combination on.

            George and I smiled at each other. In an instant, I knew we were going to get along fine. Bottle Blonde and I sized each other up unsmilingly. Just as quickly, I knew we were going to be bitter frenemies for life.

            The office we were given had light purple walls, a color that was very much easy on the eye. One side of the room was made of pure glass, providing us a breathtaking cityscape view. The left side of the room, next to the door which adjoined our office to Charli’s, was lined with three cubicles. Each cubicle had a table, chair, and a waist-high file cabinet. Displaying immense diplomacy, George opted for the middle table to keep Bottle Blonde – or rather Arian – and me apart. On the opposite of the room was a huge worktable, which I assumed where we’d be doing our work as a team.

I looked forward to it.
Not.

When I got to my cubicle, I found a Post-It note stuck on my LCD screen from Charli, asking us to review the latest projects of Kastein Entertainment.

Around 10 in the morning, Charli dropped by to check on our progress. By then, it became clear to all of us that we represented different categories. I was given the YA and romantic comedies, George was there for the fighting series like Naruto and Pokemon as well as
yaoi
.
Yaoi
or
shounen
-
ai
was an umbrella term for M/M stories. Apparently, Kastein wanted to capitalize on the Brokeback craze. As for Arian, she represented the adult chick lit genre, focusing on
manga
and Asian works that were along the lines of Bridget Jones’ Diary and Erin Brockovich.

My greatest fear about the job was not being able to
contribute,
but as the day progressed, I gradually – happily – realized that this job was really meant for me. With my fluency in Japanese and Mandarin, I was able to obtain more information about the various series I could recommend to the company. I wasn’t restricted to English translated sites but instead I could dig deeper into the blogs of both
mangaka
and their readers.

I was so engrossed with what I was doing that I hadn’t noticed lunchtime had come and gone. By the time my stomach let out a loud growling protest that had Arian glaring at me and George chuckling, it was already three in the afternoon.

Big mistake,
I could hear the ever-practical Alyx tutting in my head
. Never show your boss you’re having so much fun at work that you’re willing to skip lunch. They’ll come to expect it from you all the time after.

“Could you tell Charli I went out for a quick lunch?” I asked George as I grabbed my purse from the table.

George nodded, eyes glued on the screen. He seemed just as engrossed as I was with his own work. “I’ll text you if she needs something urgent.”

“Thanks,” I said over my shoulder, already on my way out.

Arian and I did not look at each other as I left.

Yup, bitter frenemies it really was.

Employees of Kastein, Inc. had access to a private cafeteria in 30/F, which looked more like a hotel lobby holding a gourmet food fair. The staff was dressed in – you guessed it – entirely in black. One section of the cafeteria had cozy crescent-shaped booths while the rest had matching sets of steel-legged tables and chairs accessorized with the finest tablecloths and cushions, both also in black.

All of us had daily meal allowances. How much you spent depended on your job level. Right now, I had $10 to spend each day and anything I incurred more than that I had to pay out of pocket.

To take your one-hour lunch break, you need to clock out. Most people already had by the time the machine scanned my fingerprints. Overhead, a huge board showed a list of the initials of
every
employee working for Kastein, Inc. The light next to my initials blinked blue, which meant I was on a break. It would turn green once I clock back in or red if I didn’t show up for work.

My eyes strayed unconsciously to the top of the board, where
Constantijin’s
own initials were also on display.

Blue.

There went my heart, racing all the way to the finish line of utter emotional stupidity and winning first place.

The cafeteria was nearly deserted when I went through the swing doors. One table at the corner was occupied by giggling interns as they repeatedly looked over their shoulders.

Their subject of interest?

He had his back to mine, but the exquisite color of his hair was easily recognizable. I quickly turned around and walked to the Italian station, my heart torn between wishing he’d see me and wishing he wouldn’t.

I asked for spaghetti with meatballs and iced cappuccino, waited patiently for my order because I was too busy trying
not
to think about Constantijin, and afterwards chose a table next to the windows, far from the giggling girls.

As I took a sip of my coffee, I took a very surreptitious glance at where Constantijin was sitting.

He wasn’t there.

Disappointment made my shoulders droop and I took comfort by twirling a nice amount of spaghetti with my fork and feeding myself. Soon enough, the delightful taste made me temporarily forget about Dutch playboys and mini-orgasms. I closed my eyes, savoring the wonderful texture and spicy taste of my meatballs.

When I opened my eyes, Constantijin was seated across me, a familiar wicked grin playing on his lips, a glass of water in one hand. He was dressed in another pinstriped suit, charcoal gray this time, and one that also defined the broadness of his shoulders. His pale blue shirt underneath was partially unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of his chest – the very same chest I was able to---

Aghast at where my thoughts were heading, I hissed, “You shouldn’t be here!” Then I remembered where we were and who I was talking to and I added reluctantly, “sir.”

            He laughed when he saw me looking around nervously. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want anyone to know – see – I was talking to him, much less sharing a table with him. It smacked of inappropriateness, the kind that could either get me fired or talked about in sly and hushed tones. Luckily – or unluckily, I couldn’t really decide at the moment – no one was around and even the giggling interns were nowhere in sight.

            Settling his glass down on the table, he said, “You certainly took your time coming here.”

            My eyes widened. He had been waiting for me?

            When I didn’t answer, a wry crooked grin touched his lips. “Do you do that deliberately?”

            Frowning in confusion, I asked, “Do what?”

            “Drive me crazy with your silence. You don’t talk when most women would and you talk when I expect you
not
to.”

            When I didn’t say anything, he sighed, “And you’re doing it again.”

            Biting my lip, I confessed, “I’m not doing it deliberately. I just don’t know what to say when I’m around you.” It was true. I liked talking – a lot. But when Constantijin was around, I couldn’t help getting tongue-tied, couldn’t help being on my guard either because with just that first time we had met, he had so easily shown me how utterly weak my body was in his presence.

            He leaned close, so suddenly I almost jumped in my seat like a frightened rabbit. “What?” I asked almost defensively.

            “Why did you run?”

            I blurted out, “Why didn’t you run after me?” As soon as the words were out, I cursed myself nonstop. Shit. Idiot. Dummy. Why did I have to give myself away like that?

            Incredulity shone in Constantijin’s eyes, and I gazed back at him challengingly, warily. I tensed when he started to speak.

            “Because I don’t.” His answer shouldn’t have surprised me but it did, his voice implacably hard when he spoke those three little words.

            “I want you, Yanna.”

            Still more than a little hurt at his rejection – because that was how it felt to me – I said stiffly, “Well, you can’t have me.”

            His voice became seductive. “You and I both know that’s a lie. But I don’t want to force you. I want you to come to me willingly and I’ll do whatever---”

            Unable to bear hearing more because I knew they were all true, I cut him off desperately. “Constantijin---”

            “I love it when you say my name,” he breathed.

           
I love it when you say mine, too
, I thought sadly. Too much so, and that was the problem.

            I gazed at him, this time not bothering to hide the plea in my eyes. “I’m not in your league, Constantijin. I don’t do one-night stands. I don’t do affairs. I’m just…not like you,” I ended helplessly.

            “I know what you’re saying,
schat,
” he answered, and the way his eyes burned through me made me swallow. Oh God. His eyes told me that right now he was hard – had been from the start. For me.

            Moisture formed between my legs in response.

            Triumph blazed from his eyes. “But it’s too late. The moment you walked into my office, with your pink suit and sunny smile – the way you talked to me without flirting, the way you entranced every man in the room without even being aware of it---”

            His words made my body so heavy with desire I couldn’t breathe. He was painting a woman I didn’t recognize and yet the way he was staring at me so intensely told me I was
her
.

            “I want to be inside you very badly, Yanna, and I will have you.”

            I wanted to look away but couldn’t. His gaze had once again enslaved me, and it was all I could do not to lean toward him and beg for his touch. In a last-ditch effort to save myself, I said shakily, “Can’t we just be friends?”

            Without warning, I found myself being yanked forward from underneath the table, and I let out a soft gasp of shock as I felt his hand go under my skirt.

            I stiffened.

            “Sssh, darling, or people would know,” he whispered.

            I tried inching away but he retaliated by cupping my throbbing core, his hand large enough to brand every inch with his touch. “If you keep moving, I’ll tear your---”

            “I won’t move!” I half-gasped the words out even as I glared at him.