by Marian Tee
“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 at 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 brushed up quite nicely in formal attire. White tuxes were hard to carry 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.”
Drake laughed. “I was just kidding, Yanna. I have no complaints about being your knight in shining armor anytime.” He hesitated then, his voice lowering a notch, “You look utterly desirable.”
“Umm, thanks. Y-you look good tonight, too.”
“Only for 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 always took guts to show up like that on stage and just so she could seduce Constan---I mean, our CEO. I had to start thinking of him impersonally now.
Two hours later, and 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 went down 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 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 and with over a thousand employees from all levels attending.
“Ahem.”
Still clasping each other’s hands, we turned toward 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 the 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 of 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?
Disappointme
nt 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 in 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.”
“B-but why your mom?”
“Do I look like the kind to have a platonic girl friend?”
He had a point, but…I glared up at him. “Seriously, your mom?”
Constantijin bit out, “It was either my mom or Charli. Do you prefer I had talked to your boss instead?”
Darn it. He had a point with that, too.
Constantijin seemed visibly struggling to find the next words to say. It was rare for him to be lost for words, and I couldn’t help but stare at him even as my whole body prickled in acute awareness of his nearness, his scent, his very hardness.
“Yanna---I never had a relationship in my whole life.”
I tripped – or would have if he hadn’t swiftly caught me, his hands tightening around my waist. My eyes were locked with his, which blazed with emotion. “Never?” I whispered.
He said roughly, “There was a girl I dated briefly when I was in my teens, but other than that---I never found a reason to tie myself to one woman, never been interested in being faithful.” His grip tightening even more, he said, “I hated how you always seemed to have the upper hand between us, never giving me a straight answer---”
“Because you were asking things you didn’t have the right to ask!” I half shrieked.
Constantijin coughed.
That alone was enough to remind me we had an audience, and a very interested one at that.
Lowering my voice belatedly, I added, “Sir.”
His eyes laughed at me, and the secretive, wicked grin I so loved reappeared on his lips when I made a face at him. “People are going to talk about us tomorrow,” I muttered. “I should leave now---”
“No.” The laughter was gone from his eyes, replaced by a furious glitter. “Don’t go.” His hands tightening around my waist, Constantijin muttered, “We still haven’t talked about us.”
“Constantijin---”
“I’m sorry I fucked up. I can say it again and again, but it won’t change things. Give me another chance and it will be different this time.”
I so badly wanted to believe him, but he’s already hurt and left me hanging twice. Shaking my head, I mumbled, "I forgive you, Constantijin, but---”
“One more chance, Yanna. That’s all I ask.”
No, no, no, my head shrilly protested, but it was too late. Constantijin’s gotten under my skin again and he’s found his way back to my heart. “Just give me time and space to think,” I said.
“Fine.”
Just when I thought that was all he was going to say – and that was frankly disappointing – Constantijin spoke again. “But I want you to know…it’s not just sex between us, Yanna.” The music we were swaying to switched tempos, and he suddenly whirled me around. As he did, he said, “You matter to me.”
Then he was walking me back to George.
I was literally shell shocked for more than a few minutes, unable to believe that Constantijin Kastein had made such a declaration. From the very first time we met, it had always been sex between us, or at least I thought it had been for him until now.
You matter to me.
Oh my God, oh my God. Constantijin with his overtly sexual magnetism took my breath away, his cock a weapon I was helpless against. But Constantijin actually growing a heart?
“George.” I was back to being talkative, and I was dying to tell someone about what had just happened.
George took one look at my smitten expression and started laughing.
I couldn’t help laughing, too, my heart still melting at Constantijin’s words. It was the very first time he made me feel soft and mushy rather than hot and wet. It was…a good feeling.
“George.” It was all I could manage to say.
George patted my hand. “I know, hon, I know.”
Constantijin liked me. He cared for me. I was pretty sure of it now.
I turned to George again, intending to share with him what Constantijin’s parting words were – so much better than the last time, weren’t they? Instead I found myself staring at Mr. Fix It instead. I mean, Drake. Dear Lord, I had to stop thinking of him as the guy who fixed my problems. Because he couldn’t be
that. In the future, it would be Constantijin who would be fixing my problems since he liked me, cared for me, was in lo---
Bad Yanna, bad Yanna. Stop jumping to conclusions.
“Care to dance, Ms. Everleigh?”
Without thinking, I looked over my shoulder, searching for a pair of silvery eyes. In a little while, I found Constantijin’s wry gaze taking the situation in.
I let out a sigh of relief, amazed that he wasn’t going berserk.
My phone beeped.
Heart racing, knowing who it was from even before I saw Constantijin’s name on my screen, I clicked his message open.
Don’t think I’m not jealous. I am. Too fucking much.
The words made me smile, my toes curl, and my face heat up.
Ah. Constantijin and his rudely romantic words – what did it say about me that I couldn’t get enough of his unique way of showing I, umm, mattered?
Drake offered his hand. “Shall we?”
Taking it, I laughed when he immediately whisked me to the dance floor with a little twirl. I had a great time dancing with him – and any number of other men. There wasn’t a moment I had to myself, with one guy after another asking to dance with me. And I did, with all of them.
They flattered me outrageously and asked for my number. I felt like the belle of the ball, but even I knew it wasn’t because I was the prettiest girl in the room. It was because they thought Constantijin Kastein was interested in me – and I had rebuffed him. That got my “market value” rise pretty high in the men’s eyes.
Constantijin wasn’t doing anything to stop the speculations, standing next to his mother throughout the evening, never dancing with anyone else.
An hour later, my phone beeped again and I couldn’t get it out fast enough.
Dance with me again?
Smiling, I typed my reply.
No.
Let me see what you could say to that, I thought, almost humming to myself. A waiter offered me champagne and though I normally didn’t drink any kind of liquor, I found myself accepting a flute.
My phone beeped just as I was lifting the glass to my lips.
