How Not to Be Seduced by Billionaires (20 page)

            “Yanna.”

            It was him.

            “Don’t put the phone down.” His voice sounded raw, like he had wounded his throat from talking.

            Too much pillow talk talking 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 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 60
^th
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?

            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.”