How Not to Be Seduced by Billionaires (15 page)

Giggling again, I bent down to take my iPhone out of my bag, intent on taking a photo of myself and sending it to Alyx and George just for laughs. When I got back to my feet, the lights in Constantijin’s offices were all open, and a shadow was moving inside.

I let out a scream. And another and another and another---

The night guard came running, shouting, “What is it?”

Oh, thank God! Shaking in terror, I gasped, “There’s---” I turned back to Constantijin’s office.

“There’s---”

The shadow was shrinking but coming closer to me at the same time.

“Oh my God, there’s---”

Constantijin.

There was Constantijin, grinning at me.

            I whirled back to the night guard, who was scowling at me now. This time, I notice how his uniform top wasn’t tucked, his belt left hanging from the loops, and his pants zipped halfway.

            Oh, dear.

            I so didn’t want to know what I had just interrupted. Red as a tomato, I stammered, “Sorry, I didn’t know someone else was here.”

            The look on the night guard’s face told me to drop dead, but he left without a word after tipping his hat respectfully to Constantijin, who had just come out of his office. Having him near made my temper boil – and when he actually started laughing again the moment the night guard left us, I totally lost it. Again.

           
Slap.

           
“Yanna!” It was his fiercest and most furious growl, ever.

            And okay, I had to admit I was more than a little scared at the look on his face – surely Constantijin wasn’t so angry he’d forget murder was a crime – I forced myself to stand my ground. “You deserved it!”

            “I fucking didn’t!"

            We glared at each other. Then suddenly his gaze dropped, and I realized that with the neckline I had pulled so low and my breasts heaving in emotion---

            I crossed my arms over my chest with a cry of protest. “Stop staring!”

            He was doing his best not to grin, I’d give him that. But as far as I was concerned, he needed to try harder. This was so not funny. Well, okay, it was – but he totally had to pretend it wasn’t.

            “You should have let me know you were inside,” I snapped.

            “I was about to---but then I saw you suddenly shake your head---”

            His words made me recall my actions with a cringe.

            “And then you started applying makeup like you had a bit role as one of The Walking Dead---”

            Oh God, this was
the
most embarrassing moment in my life.

            “And to top it off, you actually made your breasts---”

            “I get it,” I snarled, cutting him off because I couldn’t bear listening to another word. “I was acting crazy. Happy now?”

            Constantijin sent me a curious glance, his head cocked to the side. It was my first time to see him like this, and my heart tripped all over itself at the sight of it.

           
Constantijin
was here.

           
Constantijin
was talking to me.

            The impact of those realizations finally hit me, and I suddenly found it hard to breathe.

            “Why were you acting like that?”

            I shrugged, wanting to lie but with my mind so messed up, I couldn’t think of something else to say but the truth.

            “Yanna?”

            Letting out a sigh, I mumbled, “I wanted to look like a bimbo.”

            He reared back. “Why?”

            I glanced up, a little taken aback at the shock threading through his tone. No – it was more than shock. It was something else – like I had just committed genocide in his eyes.

            “Constantijin?”

            “Why?” he demanded, his voice noticeably cooler.

            Bemused, I blurted out, “Because I was thinking if I looked like a bimbo, you’d like me.”

            The silence that followed was so incredibly tense I didn’t dare move, scared that if I did I would ruin the atmosphere. It wasn’t good, wasn’t bad – but it felt
crucial.
When he spoke again, it was in a curt voice that made me forget all about being soft and vulnerable and had my hackles rising.

            “Come to my office.”

He turned his back on me without waiting for my answer, which I found completely reprehensible. I dug my heels and answered frostily, “No. This is my free time and---”

            “Yanna, will you fucking obey me for once and follow me inside?” He disappeared into his office.

            I debated with myself, wondering whether I should push my luck or not. It was my free time. And he so totally didn’t say ‘please’, which he should have – even if he was my CEO. Besides, what was there to talk about? Work?

            My eyes widened.

            Work!

            Oh my God, what if we
were
going to talk about work?

            I totally wanted to bang my head against his glass walls until they crashed. I was such a ninny for thinking he wanted to talk to me about anything else. He had
weeks
to do that, but he hadn’t. So what made me think that tonight was going to be any different?

Lesson #2

Beware when your billionaire wants to talk.

It usually means he wants to fuck.

Hurrying after Constantijin inside his office, I hastily tried thinking of an excuse for my less than respectful behavior – not exactly a good basis for a job recommendation from the CEO –but couldn’t think of any.
Shit, shit, shit.
He wouldn’t fire me just because I overreacted – would he?

            I slowed down as I crossed the threshold of his office, tense and wary. The last time we came here he was on full attack mode, and I ended up sprawled on his desk, his mouth on my---well, never mind about that.

            Constantijin stood in the middle of his office, hands behind his back, facing the windows. He was elegantly dressed in a dark suit – minus the tie now, as his reflection on the window showed.

            My knees quivered in belated response at his impossibly gorgeous looks. Oh, God, why couldn’t I get used to how beautiful he was? Once upon a time, I had this hugest crush on Channing Tatum but after seeing him at my gym every freaking day, my glasses slowly lost its rosy tints, and he became human in my eyes. Even his drool-worthy abs were totally ho-hum-ordinary for me now.

            But Constantijin?

            Every day, he just seemed more gorgeous, sexier, and so much more unreachable than he already was.

            I cleared my throat. “Sir?”

            Constantijin turned around. This time, I got a really good look at him, and it made me let out a small gasp. He looked – less than perfect. Still beautiful but – now he was beautiful in an imperfect way when he was never that before.

His hair looked like he had been running his hand through it all over (because of me?), his eyes had noticeably darker circles under them (because of me?), and his slightly unshaven face bore a faint red mark on his left cheek (totally because of me).

            His eyes narrowed. “Stop it with the sirs.”

           
Keep it cool, keep it cool
, I reminded myself, biting my lip to prevent myself from saying anything I shouldn’t. I had a very bad urge to throw myself at him and bawl like a baby. I missed him. Oh dear Lord, how I had missed him!

            “I don’t think that’s a good idea,
sir
.” Yes, I was provoking him. No, I had no idea why I was doing it.

            Exasperation lined his face. “
Yanna
.”

            “
Mr. Kastein
,” I said, imitating his tone perfectly.

            We stared at each other.

            My lips were the first to tremble, and then we were smiling, the bad parting we had weeks ago momentarily fading from the present.

            “You are very stubborn,” he said, shaking his head, his accent adorably thick.

           
And you are very addictive.
The thought had me biting my lip.

            His eyes darkened.

            Uh-oh. Hurriedly releasing my lip, I asked, “W-what did you want to talk about with me?”

            “Us.”

            I whitened. “I thought we were going to talk about work.”

            Just as tightly, he answered, “No. We’re not.”

            “Then I’m through with this conversation.” I turned back towards the door even though I wasn’t sure if I was even making the right decision.

            “
Yanna
, if you try to leave before---”

            Unable to help it, I stole a glance at his face over my shoulders. Oh, shit. The feral look on his face had me panicking even though I wasn’t exactly sure why. Self-preservation? Instinctive coyness? Everything in between?

It didn’t matter in the end, not when Constantijin’s furious strides had him catching up with me in seconds.

            I let out a shriek when he suddenly lifted me up with just one arm curled around my waist. Feet dangling at least three feet in the air, I began beating his chest, struggling to have him put me down. “Constantijin, stop this!”

            But he didn’t answer, walking steadily towards the couch on one side of the room. Its leather covering was – you guessed it – black, sprinkled with white throw pillows, and bordered by glass tables where framed photos of an older couple were on display.

            Constantijin threw me on the couch.

            I immediately reared up like a resurrected zombie. My mind told me to hurry and escape, but my body told me to slow down, sensing how near its favorite addiction was. As for my heart – it was my most useless organ ever. All it could do was confuse me.

            Constantijin’s weight pressed down on me, and my legs automatically spread open as if welcoming him back. Shit. What was happening to my body?

            “Get off me,” I hissed even as my heartbeat continued racing, practically gunning for an Olympic record now that Constantijin’s cock pulsed heavily against my aching core.

            I tried pushing him away, bracing my hands against his chest, but it was a weak effort and we both knew it.

            He stared down at me, unsmiling, his eyes intense.

            “Yanna,” he growled.

            There was something in it that made me stop beating his chest with feathery-soft punches. God, I felt so weak even a newborn baby could knock me out with the kind of resistance I was putting up.