How Not to Be Seduced by Billionaires (11 page)

"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 if 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 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 towards my way with a thunderous scowl on his gorgeous face.

            He was mad as hell.

            He was hot as hell, too.

            “Who the fuck are 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 its 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 mine.

            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 myself 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, willing 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 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 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 from 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 in 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 every one.” 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.