by Marian Tee
He looked the same yet different, too, like he was…like he was glad to see me but wasn’t sure if I would feel the same.
Smart of him.
I stepped back from his hold. Standing so close to Constantijin, I felt immeasurably small in my flats. If I had known he’d be coming back today, I would have worn heels instead. And – and I would have worn something jaw-droppingly sexy instead of a rather ordinary three-piece.
“You didn’t miss me then?” A quizzical smile appeared on his lips.
Lips that could have touched another woman’s lips, cheeks, body---
I almost lost my balance, the wave of pain crashing down on me a tangible weight.
“Are you all right?” He reached out for me.
I took another step back, my skin crawling at the thought of being touched by hands that could have touched another woman’s just the night before.
Unlike him, I wasn’t the type to beat around the bush so I just said baldly, “I saw you.” I took a deep breath. “I saw you online – a bunch of photos that showed you and Selena together, and one photo even showed you entering her hotel room.”
Constantijin stilled, a blank mask falling over his gorgeous face. Then he said simply, "I see."
“What do you mean, you see?” I exploded, almost falling to my knees at the pain his words caused.
His hands went inside his pockets. "I didn't peg you to be the type to ascribe to double standards."
It took me several moments to understand his meaning. I whitened when I did. Basically, he was telling me that since I didn't promise fidelity while he was away, it meant that he wasn't obliged to do the same. Cultural differences may be at work here, but --- dammit, couldn't he have asked?
"It's not like that," I told him flatly.
"It's exactly like that!”
"No, it's not!" My fists clenched in impotent anger and hurt. "You're the one courting me!"
"So?"
I couldn’t believe he could just stand there so arrogantly, not even bothering to defend himself or apologize. "You just don't get it, do you?" I asked wearily.
“You are the one who doesn’t get it,” he said between clenched teeth. He was angry – really angry, and that made me more tired. “I told you that I am not to be played---”
“And you weren’t. You were never…” I wheezed for air, the pain of what he was wordlessly admitting to choking me. “I didn't want to promise you I wouldn't entertain suitors because I didn't want you to know how much I liked you. Just that. But I never entertained any suitors. I didn't even date anyone or talk to any guy besides you. You can ask anyone here and it's the truth."
Constantijin was pale by the time I finished, which I regretted honestly because even after what I did, it was never my intention to hurt him. I just – I just wanted him to know that it could have been really good between us.
“So, if there’s nothing you can think of saying anymore---” An unexpected sob escaped me, and when Constantijin looked stricken at the sound, I whirled around, unable to bear the look of pity on his face.
To hell with this.
I hurried out of the room as quick as my new mules could carry me. Walking straight into the rest room, I locked myself in the first available cubicle that I could reach.
And then I cried again.
I kept my phone dead the whole weekend and when I came to work on Monday, Glenda was standing watch at my door. “The boss wants to see you, so make up an excuse and then---”
“Glenda,” I whispered.
She stopped speaking, her eyebrows shooting up after she had taken a closer look at my face. Puffy eyes, red nose, trembling lips – that was how I looked like when I stared at myself in the mirror this morning, and I doubted I looked any better now.
“Glenda, please. It’s over between us.”
She took another look at me before nodding, turning her back and walking away. The calls and texts came next, all of which I rejected and deleted. The flowers followed, and I donated them to the charity occupying an office in 7/F.
On Thursday, Charli told me I had a call in her office. Thinking it was the client she had assigned to me earlier to negotiate with, I took it quickly, aiming to sound very professional as I said, “Good morning, this is Yanna Everleigh---”
“Yanna.”
It was him.
“Don’t put the phone down.” His voice sounded raw, like he had wounded his throat from too much talking.
Too much pillow talk with his dear lovely Selena, probably. The thought hardened me, giving me the strength to answer him with silence.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I was an idiot.”
Never had I expected him to apologize, much less admit to being an idiot – which he had been. But it was too late. “It’s over,” I said, forcing my tone to stay flat and emotionless even though I had an exceptionally strong urge to bawl like a baby.
He was always so unfair.
He would make me fall, push me away, then he’d come back and make me fall for him again.
“Please don’t bother me again,” I whispered before ending the call.
Charli dealt me a speculative look when I put the phone down. “The, err, client wasn’t a good match?”
She knew.
I forced a smile. “He terminated me first.”
~~~~
Friday came again, this time with a major company event. It was the birthday of the Chairman of the Board, with everyone’s presence strictly required and the dress code formal. I would have given any excuse to skip it – strangely, the thought of seeing his parents hurt. But I couldn’t, not when Charli told me with such a proud smile how she had managed to convince the Board to make me the host instead of hiring a professional.
I came to the event dressed to kill. The Grecian style of my amethyst-toned gown added the illusion of a more generous cleavage to my slimmer curves while my silver heels lent me a few extra inches. The added height was necessary. I wanted to be sure the microphone stand wouldn’t end up taller than me. Been there, done that, never wanted to feel like a midget on stage again.
George helped with my hair, which he had tied halfway up while leaving the rest to curl around my shoulders. He even gave me a hand with my makeup, managing to make my eyes look large and luminous with a dark eyeliner and dramatic eye shadow.
“You look smashing,” George enthused as we walked hand in hand into the hotel ballroom reserved for Kastein, Inc.’s private function.
“Totally,” I agreed airily even though inside I still felt a thousand years older and a hundred times uglier than the worst-looking troll. Heartbreak and I – we were never good companions for each other.
“No, seriously,” George insisted. “Look to your right.”
When I did so, absently, a group of men from Finance whistled in appreciation, their stares bordering on lecherous.
I blushed.
“See?”
“It’s your makeup,” I said finally.
He shook his head. “No, hun. It’s you.” Then he patted my bottom, making me giggle. “Now, break a leg.” He pushed me towards the side steps leading to the stage.
I had only taken a few steps when I lost my footing, most likely out of sheer nervousness, and would have fallen flat on my face if a pair of arms hadn’t caught me.
Heart beating madly, I looked up.
Oh.
It wasn’t Constantijin.
It was Mr. Fix It.
He helped me up slowly and I tried not to notice how his hands held my waist just a little bit longer than he should. “Third time now, Yanna,” he said with a grin.
Now that I was back in my feet, I could properly appreciate his looks, and I had to admit that he cleaned up quite nicely in formal attire. White tuxes were hard to carry off for most men, but on Drake – he simply looked like an angel with a naughty sense of humor.
Especially with the way he was looking at me.
Blushing, I stammered, “I know. I’m so sorry.”
“Umm, thanks. Y-you look good tonight, too.”
“Only tonight?”
I was horrified. “I didn’t mean---” Then I saw the laughter in his gaze and groaned. “You’re mean!”
“And I just wanted you to laugh because I think you’re nervous for no reason.” He gave me a megawatt smile that I was very sure would make my heart skip a beat if it wasn’t still in the emergency room, receiving treatment for post-traumatic shock, thanks to overexposure to unfaithful Dutch playboy billionaires.
Drake bent close. I reared back, but it was too late.
He pressed a kiss on my forehead.
When he pulled away, I was gaping.
“Your good luck kiss,” he said with a wink before walking away.
More than a little confused, I absently touched my forehead as I climbed the stage, wondering if maybe – maybe I had been right all this time. Maybe Drake was the one for me and Constantijin Kastein was just the Devil’s best attempt to seduce me from my happily-ever-after romance.
The limelight swung immediately toward me as I reached the middle of the stage. I automatically beamed at the crowd. “Welcome to the 60th birthday of our beloved Chairman of the board, Mrs. Margaret Kastein. On behalf of the Kastein family, I would like to thank you all for coming.”
Although I had my script in hand, I barely glanced at it, knowing I was better off improvising and keeping eye contact with my audience. I had never been a limelight-hogger, but that didn’t mean I sucked at stage presentations – or, in this case, hosting jobs. Most times, I was actually good at it since my public speaking skills had been honed at an early age, with both my parents constantly volunteering me to act as host for every company party they threw.
Later, I was hosting a game that had Arian as one of the contestants. She, too, looked smashing – especially with her headlights fully on. The moment I saw Arian’s nipple alert, I immediately searched for George in the crowd. Our eyes met – and then we were grinning.
You had to hand it to Arian, really. It took guts to show up like that on stage just so she could seduce Constan---I mean, our CEO. I had to start thinking of him impersonally now.
Two hours later, I dished out my last speech for the night, declaring the end of the “official” event, which meant the time to dance and go wild would now officially begin.
“Thank you!” I blew them a goodbye kiss and the crowd went wild, with one guy from Marketing actually letting out a loud whoop as he jumped high, pretending to catch my air kiss.
Laughter and applause still rang clearly in the background as I descended the stage. George was waiting for me, grinning, and we exchanged hugs.
“My hands are still shaking,” I confessed.
George rolled his eyes. “You were fantastic up there!”
We looked at each other and then we started jumping like crazy. God! That had been hard, hosting a party for a Fortune 500 corporation with over a thousand employees from all levels attending.
“Ahem.”
Still clasping each other’s hands, we turned towards the sound.
Oh my God, it was Constantijin with his mother.
George and I quickly released each other, faces flaming.
"My mother wanted to congratulate the host for a job well done," Constantijin said, his eyes on me while my eyes were on – anywhere but him. Even so, I couldn’t help stealing a peek at his looks.
Bad mistake.
He was, like, too hot to be true.
And I was, like, too wet to be true right now.
Constantijin’s hair was brushed up in a slick style. It should have made him look totally sleazy and old, but no, darn it, he just looked nobler – like a freaking European prince. He was all Old World glamour, and his blazer even had coattails, its beautiful cut emphasizing the impressive width of his shoulders and his height.
“Mom, this is the woman I’ve been telling you about – Yanna – and her friend George. They are both new executives in our marketing department.”
I could feel Constantijin willing me to look at him, but I resisted the magnetic pull of his gaze. I hated how even after everything that he had done, I still felt drawn to him, a moth addicted to getting burnt time and time again.
“George, Yanna, may I present to you my mother, Margaret Kastein?”
“Good evening, Mrs. Kastein,” George and I murmured in unison.
Constantijin’s mother was beautiful, an older and feminine version of him in fact. She had a stately air about her, her age only adding a timeless quality to her beauty. There was speculation in her bright blue eyes when she turned to me after speaking with George.
George suddenly craned his neck. “Oh, I think my friend just arrived. Excuse me.” He disappeared not an instant later, the traitor.
"You really did well there, my dear," Margaret – or Marge as she prettily asked us to call her - said with a warm smile. She was quite petite, and her stole, made of snowy-white faux fur, which matched her black figure-hugging gown, made her look even smaller. But when she looked at me, I knew right away this woman was the type to have no problems at all wearing the pants in the family.
And since she was our Chairman, she probably did.
Realizing that she was waiting for an answer, I stammered, “I’m just honored Charli thought I could handle the job.”
Before I knew it, she had taken my arm and we were strolling toward the outer edges of the party, away from the crowd. Constantijin followed behind us, lagging a few steps, and I did my best to ignore the way he continued staring at me.
“You were a natural on stage.”
“Umm, t-thanks.”
I had a feeling we were walking aimlessly, but who was I to say that? For a moment, I wondered if this was a prelude to a pay raise. She could be, like, so impressed with my hosting duties that she was adding a zero to my salary, never mind if hosting had nothing to do with marketing research.
But then I realized that if she did promote me or give me a pay hike, it could very well be due to Constantijin. What if he felt guilty and thought this was a way to say sorry?
Disappointment made my shoulders droop a little.
“Is something wrong?”
God, she was intuitive. Forcing a smile, I said, “I’m just giddy. And relieved that I survived hosting your birthday.” I froze then added in a rush, “Oh my God, I’m sorry I forgot to greet you again. Happy birthday, Mrs. Kastein.”
“It’s okay and Marge, please.” Her eyes twinkled. “But you can call also call me ‘Mom’ if you want.”
My jaw dropped.
She let out a laugh, which sounded too gusty for someone who looked so refined. Without even looking over her shoulder, she told her son, “Leave us for a while, my dear. I will call you when I am done.”
“Mother,” I heard Constantijin say from behind in a warning tone.
Marge’s voice became steely. “Leave.”
I twisted my head around and was stunned to see Constantijin actually leaving. Yes, that made it official then. Marge was definitely the boss in their family. When I looked back, Marge was smiling prettily again. But this time, I was so not fooled.
“Ma’am?” I asked very respectfully.
She beamed. “Oh, darling, you have no reason to be afraid of little ole me.”
I silently begged to differ.
“You and my son are at odds with each other, yes?”
Who knew Constantijin would be such a tattletale?
Coughing, I said vaguely, “Umm…”
She smirked.
Oh my God, so this was where Constantijin inherited his smirking ways!
“Dear,” she sighed, “there is something I have to tell you about my son.”
Something in her tone made me stiffen.
“He’s an ass. I love him,
he’s my son, but he’s an ass.”
Okaaaaay. Totally did not see that coming, but hey, if she wanted to call Constantijin the A-word, then I didn’t have any problem with that.
She sighed again. “It’s my fault, really.” She glanced around, her eyes looking for Constantijin. He stood opposite us at the other end of the ballroom, a glass of some dark-colored liquor in his hands. When he saw us looking at him, his head cocked to the side, askance, one eyebrow lifting.
“Maybe someday, when you are with him longer, I’ll tell you why. I probably have to, one way or another.”
Her words were so cryptic I couldn’t help wondering what she and Constantijin seemed to be hiding from the whole world. Margaret suddenly lifted her hand and waved.
In a few seconds, Constantijin was at our side and Margaret was telling him to take me to the dance floor.
Whoa!
“I…” I couldn’t really say ‘no’, not with Margaret smiling at us expectantly and everyone looking our way.
Constantijin grinned at his mother.
She answered with a smirk. “You’re welcome.”
And then Constantijin was whisking me to the dance floor, his hands spanning my waist as the DJ played a slow jam mix of something by One Republic and Ne-Yo.
I stood stiffly in the circle of his arms.
"Look at me, Yanna."
"No.” I forced myself to smile when I realized that a lot of people were looking at us. Acting stiff was expected – he was the CEO and I was not - but looking angry meant having something more than what's right between us.
But God, it felt so incredibly good to be back in his arms. Too good.
Constantijin said harshly, “I’m sorry.”
I kept my gaze stubbornly over his shoulders even though my stomach twisted at the ragged sincerity in his voice.
“I fucked up.”
Can’t believe him, can’t listen to him, can’t---
“I talked to my mom about you. I told her everything.”
My head jerked up at that. “You what?”
His eyes bored into me. “You didn’t want to talk to me, and I didn’t know how to reach out to you.”
