Caged (How Not To Be Seduced by Billionaires: Book 3) (12 page)

"But it's too soon," I blurted out.

Silence.

            Constantijin turned around. “I know it is, but I also know what I want and it is you, with me, all the time.”

            His voice was quiet and sincere, which I supposed I had to be grateful for. If he had tried seducing me into saying yes, he was likely to have succeeded. I was plain hopeless in his arms, his kisses and touches able to make me do things I never thought I’d do or say.

            But with the small distance separating us, my mind was able to work – barely. And it was shouting all sorts of protest. Constantijin and I had only known each other for a few months, and in those days he had managed to change my life so much. He had given me my first taste of sexual desire, of heartbreak, of the most terrifying and exhilarating kind of love that I would know in my life.

            And now he wanted me to take this one giant leap away from the safety and comfortable familiarity of my old life.

            Constantijin said fiercely, “Tell me your objections.”

            “I...my…it will kill my parents if they find out I’m living together with a guy.”

            “Then do not tell them. Leave all your stuff at Alyx's place and you can create new memories with me.”

            God, he was good. If he had told me to shop for new stuff like my old belongings didn’t matter, I would have baulked. But when he said it that way, oh dear Lord, I wanted it, too. I wanted new memories…any memories --- more memories with Constantijin.

            “Is that all, Yanna?” There was a wry note to his voice, as if he knew I was simply grasping straws.

I started to feel panicky. That was the biggest – and admittedly lamest --- objection I could come up with but Constantijin had solved it in one shot.

Swallowing, I blurted out, “But Constantijin…what if you lose interest in me because of that?” It was my greatest fear and I wanted to cry just for saying it out loud.

“Yanna…”

            I shook my head, not wanting to look at him because I was already crying. God, this was so embarrassing. All the women he dated in the past probably never cried in front of him because that would scare him away. And here I was, practically scaring him every day.

            I only sensed Constantijin was near me when he was on his knee and pulling my hands away from my face. “Yanna, listen. You are the first – the only – woman I had ever courted, the only woman I had worked hard to have back in my life. You are the only woman I want enough to move in with me. How will it be possible for me to lose interest in you when I want you so much?”

            “But there are so many others,” I sniffed. Pathetic, I knew, but it was also pathetically true.

His smile looked a bit ironic as he spoke. "You're the only girl I've dated that I'm not really sure of. I'm worried that there'd be something I'd do wrong again and you'll leave before you let me explain. You're the only girl I constantly look for---I always miss you when you're not with me."

I cried harder at his words. "But I'll never leave you," I choked, wishing I could say more but knowing he wouldn’t want to hear what else I had hidden in my heart.

            “Take this risk with me, sweetheart,” he whispered as he tipped my chin up. “Please?”

            God, he was so good. He knew I was such a sucker when he used that word to me. How could I not fall for it when I knew he had never used that word with anyone else?

            I said shakily, “All right, but…I have conditions.”

            “Name it,” he said readily, “and it’s yours.”

            If I moved in with him, I needed to make sure no one would have reason to think that I was sponging off him. But I also had to be practical – there were a lot of things in his life that I would never be able to afford.

            Chewing on my lip, I said slowly, “We’ll split expenses. I know that’s unrealistic since the upkeep for your home is more than what I earn in a year---”

            “You’re exaggerating,” he said with a roll of his eyes, but his eyes were laughing, and I knew it was because he was happy.

The knowledge that I was the cause of that happiness made me giddy, and I couldn’t help giving him a crazy goofy smile as I continued, “So, I’ve decided…I’ll take care of the groceries---” Catching the look of uneasiness that briefly crossed his face, I demanded, “What?”

“I’ve seen the kitchen you share with your friend. You don’t even buy fresh produce. You eat canned food or if not you buy takeouts all the time. And you want to be the mistress of my kitchen?”

“But canned food is not that bad! And it’s cheap!” Yes, it was my exaggeratedly cheapskate genes from my Quaker grandparents talking.

Constantijin just stared.

I cringed. “Seriously? We have to buy
fresh
food all the time?”

“I’m always willing to take over all the expenses---”

Scowling, I cut him off, “Fine. Okay.
Fresh
produce all the time.” I shook my head. “God, you’re so high maintenance!”

He choked.

            “What?” I growled.

            Constantijin shook his head, a mysterious smile playing on his lips."Nothing. I just marvel at how unique you are.”

"Is that good or bad?" I asked suspiciously.

He suddenly pulled me to him, and I shrieked as we fell on the floor, me on top of him.

“Fucking good,” he breathed under me, his cock already hard and throbbing against my sex.

He tugged a lock of my hair, which was his favorite way of getting my attention. It was another childish trait of Constantijin, an unbelievably cute one that I secretly couldn’t get enough of.

“What?” I said, bracing my hands on his chest as I did my best not to be distracted by his erection. It was so, umm, hard.

“You’re moving in with me then?”

I giggled. “What do you think?”

“I think we need to seal the deal with sex.”

“Constantijin!”

Lesson #8

Your billionaire may be an angel to others,

but do not be too sure he will be the same to you.

“Are you really sure this interior designer is not one of your billion of exes?” Three days later and I was waiting at a coffee shop near Kastein Inc., forcibly ejected out of my workplace by the CEO himself. Yesterday, he had taken me to the vacant pad next to his. He said it would be my “own” space, and I could do whatever I wanted with it. His only requirement: that I slept in his bed every night, even when I was pissed with him.

            “There you go again, exaggerating.”

            I could hear him smiling and I did my best not to smile back because I knew he’d sense it, too. But honestly, I wasn’t exaggerating. Lately, it seemed like he had bedded a woman for every dollar he had in his bank account.

            Last week, I learned the receptionist at 25/F – who was best friends with the guy George was dating on and off – had been one of his innumerable one-night stands. Needless to say, she hated my guts.

            The previous weekend, I was on my way back to Constantijin’s private box at the theater and someone “accidentally” threw a tart on my back. No pun seemed intended but whatever. However, tickets to that play cost several thousand dollars so seriously, what was wrong with these wealthy chicks that Constantijin dated? 

Unfortunately, it wasn't even the last straw. If you thought those things were, like, uncool, Alyx taught me the other night that Constantijin’s European exes could be a lot worse. She had DM’d me a tweet of this super famous movie actress in Germany. When I ran it through a random web translator, this was what I got:
Inexpensive she-dog nabbed the horse that I rode so well.

            So, you see, I totally had reason to be wary about any unknown woman I got to meet these days.

            “You will like her, this woman. She has very good taste. In fact, she was the one who decorated my pad.”

            A now-familiar green-eyed monster reared its head at the tone of admiration in Constantijin’s words. Even though I thought his pad was beautifully decorated as well, I heard myself saying noncommittally, “We'll see. I mean, we’re from different generations.”

            “Are you saying I’m
old
?” Constantijin mock growled.

            “No. I’m saying your interior designer is probably someone you did date and she’s
old.
Like, cougar-old---”

            “Yanna?” a cultured voice floated up to me.

            Shock had me choking because I accidentally swallowed half of my donut. Scrambling to my feet, I had this insane urge to bow, curtsy, and salute all at the same time. Even though I now knew about her difficult past, none of it changed the way I saw her.

            As Alyx would be inclined to say, this woman “got balls”.

            Constantijin was still talking. “Let me speak with my mother, Yanna. I just want her to know that you think she is, what did you say---”

            I ended the call. Nobody surely was interested in what Constantijin had to say.

            Marge pulled me close for a brief, warm hug and kissed my cheek before releasing me. “You look more and more beautiful every time I see you, dear,” she said as she took a seat across me.

            “You, too, Mrs. Kastein.” It was true. She was dressed in this lovely pale pink sheath and matching pumps. A choker of pearls around her neck was her only accessory, and it made her look like a spunkier middle-aged version of Audrey Hepburn.

            There was a moment of silence between us before she spoke again. “Thank you for defending me that night, Yanna.”

            The words had me completely flustered. “It was nothing, Mrs. Kastein---”

            “Marge, please, and of course it’s not nothing, Yanna. Only a few people would have cared to defend me that way.”

            I grimaced. “That way meaning turning into a war freak, right?”

            She laughed. “I prefer war freaks to wimps.” She called for a waiter then, ordering for coffee and a slice of cake. Looking back at me, she said softly, “You know, I had wanted to call you the very next day, but Constantijin asked me to wait.”