by Marian Tee
WTF?
"Gold digger," George muttered.
"No." I had to say it. Even if I believed the same. I just had to say no. I had never liked talking about other people behind their backs. "She's just - I guess - she just likes him a lot."
George rolled his eyes. "I hope he's not stupid enough to fall for her."
I shook my head. Even I didn’t think that. But still – what if he had sex with her? Would I be able to bear that?
An urge to cry hit me unexpectedly, and I had to look down, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from falling. It seemed so incredibly long ago since the last time I was in Constantijin’s arms. Did he not like me anymore? I had heard about men blowing hot and cold. I understood it in theory, but the reality was so much harder than I expected.
“I’ll bet you a hundred dollars he’s into you, though.”
I smiled humorlessly at George’s attempt to comfort me. “You’re on.”
George’s phone suddenly rang and he excused himself, leaving me all alone in my booth. I felt like a loser with a capital L and wondered if Arian and Constantijin were glancing my way. What if they were laughing at me?
The thought hurt, but I was the type to confront my fears head on so I forced myself to look up.
Constantijin was staring at me.
He shouldn’t have been – not with Arian talking so animatedly next to him – but he was, and I couldn’t understand the dark emotions in his eyes. His lips were compressed in a tight line, as if he was holding his anger in check. Was he actually mad at me?
Arian abruptly stopped speaking as her eyes bored into mine. I forced myself to look away. I felt the burning sensation of being glared at from my right, where Arian and Constantijin were.
I gulped. Oh man! Arian as a frenemy was bad enough, but as an all out enemy? That was going to be hell.
“Thank God you’re back,” I exclaimed when George returned to our table. I stood up and dragged him with me before he could take a seat. “We have to go, it’s an emergency.”
"But I haven't finish my lunch yet---" he protested.
“Emergency,” I gritted out.
With a sigh, he let me drag him out of the cafeteria. We passed by Arian’s table as we did, and she was all alone, Constantijin nowhere to be found.
She smiled. It was a scary sight, and I had to force myself not to run from it. “Hurry,” I hissed at George. Honestly, I felt like that black-haired ghost from Ringu was after me.
But just like that ghost, Arian was impossible to escape.
When we got to our office, Arian was at our heels. I jumped at the sound of the door slamming shut, feeling like I was suddenly trapped in a cage with a killer shark named Arian.
"Hi Yanna, George,” Arian cooed with another smile.
I smiled weakly. George didn’t. He was the blunt but polite type and had never bothered to pretend interest in befriending Arian.
"Could I talk to Yanna privately?" she asked George sweetly.
George didn’t even hesitate. "No."
Arian was obviously taken aback, but she rebounded quickly with a sharp retort. "You're not her keeper, you know?"
"Actually, I consider myself that," George returned coolly.
I was looking at them back and forth. Was I about to have a bitch fight on my hands? Clearing my throat, I said, "Arian, really, there's no need for secrets. Whatever it is you want to say---"
"Fine," she said cuttingly. "Let's not beat around the bush then. I know you've got the hots for Constantijin."
"No!" George and I immediately rejected.
"Stop lying, Yanna."
Oh. So she was talking to me. Drat.
Her eyes hardened. "I want to let you know that I only applied to this company because I wanted to be close to him. I've got first dibs on Constantijin and I don't like it when someone else has an eye on my man."
"Beg to differ," George interrupted, "but he's not your man yet."
"He will be." Arian smiled at me again.
I did my best not to shiver. It was a really scary sight, like a shark in Prada getting ready to make a meal out of me.
"You and I won't have any trouble as long as you don't mess with my plans." She looked at me, clearly waiting for an answer.
I knew I should have said ‘no’ because George was right. Whatever she felt about the situation, Constantijin wasn’t hers yet. But see, I also had this weird conscience – one that never let me lie outright. Right now, I couldn’t make myself say yes or no to Arian so when I answered, all I could say was, “I’ll try my best.”
George and I gazed at Arian as she sashayed back to her cubicle, hips swaying as if there were still men for her to dazzle.
George turned to me with a frown, asking, "Why did you give in?"
I shrugged.
“You should have fought for him,” he grumbled.
I didn’t answer, mostly because I couldn’t bear admitting to him that I didn’t have a right to fight for Constantijin.
Constantijin didn’t try to call or waylay me during or after work, which I told myself was a good thing. The bridal shower was fun and debauched – exactly as I had expected. When the strippers actually started, well, stripping, I knew I had to excuse myself. If I had to see a naked cock for the first time, I’d rather it be Constantijin’s.
This was the uppermost thought in my mind when I left the hotel suite, so imagine my surprise when I came out and saw Constantijin across the hall, walking my way with a thunderous scowl on his gorgeous face.
He was mad as hell.
He was hot as hell, too.
“Who the fuck were you with in that room?” he snarled, his long-legged strides eating the distance between us in his seconds, his fingers wrapping around my left wrist in a punishing grip.
“Wh—how—I…” I looked at him in consternation.
“Answer me,” he roared at the same time one of the strippers inside yelled, “I’m getting naked, baby!”
Okay, that sounded very bad.
Constantijin paled.
I was white-faced, too. All half-baked thoughts of making him jealous, of getting even with him for letting Arian flirt with him – all of those left me at the look of betrayal on Constantijin’s face.
“I lied. I don’t have a date. I’m attending a bridal shower,” I confessed shakily, saying the words in a rush because I had a feeling if I didn’t get them out in time he would leave me forever.
He inhaled sharply.
Unsure whether he believed me or not, I turned around and twisted the knob, intent on showing him the truth, but Constantijin suddenly said my name. And then he was twisting me around, his kiss forcing me against the wall.
Constantijin gripped my hair with one hand, using it to twist my head to the side so his tongue could penetrate my mouth further. I moaned when he started sucking on my tongue, my arms going around his neck on their own volition.
Pleasure unfurled inside my body like a long-lost dream. I couldn’t help closing my eyes at the sheer ecstasy of being back in his arms and having him kiss me again. When he ground his erection against my body, I arched into him, wishing I could do more to mold my body into his.
“I thought you were fucking someone else,” he said.
“I thought you wanted to fuck Arian,” I muttered back between drugging kisses.
He lifted his head sharply at that. “I don’t cheat.”
“Me neither,” I admitted and let out a moan when he bit my ear before letting his tongue swirl inside, licking the inner lobe.
“Never lie to me again.”
“Never,” I promised, meaning it, and was rewarded with a quick hard kiss.
“Say you’re mine,” he growled as he nuzzled my neck, his hands trailing down to cup my buttocks so he could grind his cock more fiercely against me.
I was. I already was. But was he mine, too? He was too mercurial for my sanity. I needed something more concrete – something more emotionally symbolic – before I could give mysel
f to him.
I so badly wanted to ask if he was mine as well, but my perverse sense of pride didn’t let me. Instead, I said, “I still need time.” Rather, he still needed time.
He slowly pulled away, and his English was thickly accented and accusatory when he spoke. “It feels like you are making me go through hoops like I’m some puppet you are testing, training.”
“I’m not,” I protested instantly, looking at him straight in the eye, wishing him to see how sincere I was.
Constantijin didn’t speak, his arms falling to his sides as he let me go completely. I wanted to weep. I felt like I had gambled – and lost.
“It is how you make me feel, and I don’t like it.”
Why was he so distrustful and cynical? Couldn’t he see how badly I wanted him? Or was this all a ploy – a masterful one befitting the Netherlands’ #1 Playboy?
Only a few feet separated us, but suddenly it felt like we stood at different ends of the world. “You are playing with me.” He said it as if he was waiting for me to deny it.
I wanted to, but I didn’t. He had to figure that out for himself. “If that’s how you feel, then there’s nothing I can do.”
Lesson #7
Never go to Vegas with your billionaire.
It’s called Sin City for a reason.
Your hymen is totally at risk.
“Why do you always eat so late?” A grouchy voice asked as I wallowed in self-pity with my vanilla latte and giant slice of cheesecake. It was my sixth day of existing without Constantijin, and if I had to be honest –
I wasn’t doing well. At all.
He haunted me worse than any ghost could. He wasn’t under my bed but next to me. He wasn’t inside my closet but with me in the shower. He was in the worst places possible, and I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I had a feeling I’d sell my soul if I knew there was a cure for this. Surely – surely these feelings weren’t the kind that Walter and Carole shared? It was too...too sexual, too obsessive – too everything that was not romantic.
Thank God we had a three-day weekend coming up, with Friday being a statewide holiday. I badly needed a break. Luckily, George had invited me along to enjoy an all-expense paid trip to Vegas he had won on a gay social networking site.
“I’m talking to you,” the grouchy voice continued.
I looked up with bleary eyes and almost spit out my latte. Oh God, it was her.
Glenda lowered herself on the seat across me, glowering. “That’s all you’re eating for lunch?”
Actually, I just lost my appetite. Cheeks flushed and mentally cringing at what she might think of me after what she had seen, I stammered, “I’m not that hungry---”
She rolled her eyes and – with her boyishly cut gray hair – I could imagine for a moment what Alyx would look like when she reached middle age. “Because of that boy?”
It took me a second to realize just who she was referring to as a boy. The redness in my cheeks deepened. “Of course not,” I lied quickly.
“Bah! Don’t bother. I know a smitten girl when I see one.” With a shake of her head, Glenda asked, “What happened?”
Do I tell her or not?
It only took me a second to decide. By now, it should be obvious that I had a tendency to share everything with practically everyone. I confessed what happened during last week’s bridal shower – well, the PG version of it at least – and ended with how Constantijin thought I was playing with him because I wasn’t giving in.
“But I’m not,” I cried out. The words came out louder and more passionate than I intended, and I turned red again.
She patted my hand. “Hush, dear. Don’t feel bad. You’re not the first girl whose heart he’s broken.”
I said slowly, “If that’s supposed to make me feel good---”
“You are not even the first one I caught fooling around with my boy.”
I absolutely had no appetite now. “Ma’am---”
She smiled warmly. “Call me Glenda.”
I didn’t smile back.
She rolled her eyes again. “Oh, you! Stop sulking. You are special, dear. You might not be the first girl he’s hurt – certainly you’re not the first girl he’s had sex with---”
I had officially lost my appetite for the entire week.
“But dear,” she finished triumphantly, “You were the first one who made him celibate.”
That got me sitting up in my seat, unable to believe what she just said. Constantijin was so sexual that what she was saying was impossible. Every time we met, all he could think about was sex. And fine – every time we met, I thought about it, too, but it was among other things.
Seeing the incredulity in my eyes, she gave me a sharp nod. “I know my boy. He uses sex as an outlet and these days, he’s like a grouchy bear, snapping at everyone.” She said explicitly, “That means no sex.”
Rubbing my suddenly aching head, I said, “I’m really glad you told me this, but…what should I do then?”
“It depends on what you want from him.”
I didn’t answer – I couldn’t, not just yet, not when I was unsure myself if Constantijin was really the man for me.
~~~~
Friday, George and I arrived at our hotel around noon, thanks to an early flight. The accommodations included in George’s prize were at a new boutique hotel. Small and classy but not as opulent as Caesar’s Palace, it was nonetheless charming, --- a girly hotel even, with its lavender-and-cornflower-blue décor.
“I’m starving,” I told George as he queued up at one of the check-in counters. “Check us in while I scout for food?” My stomach echoed my words with a growl.
George grinned. “You and your tummy,” he said but waved me away, telling me to leave my luggage with him.
There was a restaurant across the elevators, and before its glass doors was a small pastry station. I hurried towards it, my mouth watering. Food never failed to comfort me. They were reliable, unlike Dutch playboy billion---
Stop it, Yanna. Stop thinking about him!
I refocused on the sweets. Oh, but they looked yummy beyond belief! Eclairs. Cupcakes. Tarts. Macaroons. Truffles---
"Looks good, doesn't it?"
I was not hearing that.
I was just not hearing that.
Heart beating madly, loudly, and erratically, I slowly turned around.
It was Constantijin.
His slight crooked smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, which were intense and wary. Something ached in my heart at that look, making me realize he found this as nerve-wracking as I did.
“Hey,” he said softly.
“Hey,” I said back because Constantijin in jeans totally rendered me speechless with awe. Constantijin in a suit was breathtaking, but in jeans – he was magnificent, every iota of his sexiness magnified by his tight-fitting shirt and equally tight-fitting denims. One look at him and you couldn’t help but think, fuck, fuck, fuck.
I mentally smacked my head against an imaginary wall. Stop thinking about sex, Yanna.
"Have you eaten lunch yet?"
I could only shake my head, still tongue-tied. Fuck, fuck, fuck. My mind was frozen at those words.
His smile turned into something real, and the sight of it melted the shell of pain that had surrounded my heart for so many days now. “You look great.” His eyes lingered on the rather low neckline of my summer dress, and I swallowed, embarrassed but aroused at the same time when I felt my breasts responding, feeling heavy and aching as my nipples came to life. Thank God for padding or I was so going to show.
I heard myself asking, “Are you staying here, too?”
Instead of answering, he said, “Will you let me book a table for us? You’re with George, right?”
I nodded even though I was a little confused at why he had to avoid my question.
He smiled, looking relieved, and that confused me even more.
He stepped forward and I held my breath, wondering if he was going to kiss me. But all he did was lift his
hand, knuckles grazing my cheek. It was all I could do not to close my eyes and rub my face against his hand like a kitten.
Constantijin said slowly, “I missed you, Yanna. More than I thought I would.” And then he was walking away. It was a good thing he did. If he hadn’t, he would have seen how a 24-year-old woman could melt into a hot, emotional mess.
Glenda was right. I was so, like, smitten to death with this guy.
“You are so fucked.”
I jumped, whirling around to see a grinning George, one trolley on each hand. I grabbed mine from him as he asked slyly, “Is that who I think it is?”
“Nope.”
He let out a manly giggle, which drew looks from the other female customers ordering from the pastry station. I couldn’t blame them. Even with his dorky glasses and stiffly ironed checkered shirts, he was hotter than hot. It was just too bad for the rest of the female population he was gay.
“You are so going to pay me a hundred dollars,” he teased.
It took me a long time to understand what he was talking about. "Oh. The bet, you mean?" I looked at Constantijin, who was a short distance away, talking to the maître d'.
Turning to George with a frown, I said primly, “This is just a coincidence.”
George shrugged. “Whatever you want to tell yourself, hun.”
“It really is,” I insisted but quickly stopped speaking when Constantijin came strolling back. He greeted George warmly just as his arm went around my waist.
I raised a brow.
He raised a brow back, eyes gleaming.
Looking at us both, George’s brows lifted as well. “Are you guys sure I’m still welcome to this lunch date?”
Constantijin pulled me even closer. If I could have gotten my eyebrow to arch higher, I would have. Did he not remember that office romances were forbidden in his company? Was he not worried about other people seeing us together? Had he not realized---
“Yanna.”
Oh, that dreamy Dutch accent was so, like, going to be the death of me.
It took everything in me not to flutter my lashes at him like the totally smitten girl that I was. 24 years old and I wanted to flutter my lashes at a guy! That was the kind of effect someone as gorgeous and sexy as Constantijin Kastein had on me.
