How Not to Be Seduced by Billionaires (40 page)

“The driver---”

“It’s fine.”

There was this awkward pause before he said with audible reluctance, “I could drive you---”

God, my eyes itched so much they hurt.

Clearing my throat, I said again, “It’s fine. The bus should be here any minute now.” I quickly changed the subject. “Has your meeting started?”

“My…ah…in a while.” He was so obviously lying. “But it will end late so don’t wait up for me.”

My eyes started feeling itchy again. But because I was stupid and I just plain couldn’t help it, I whispered, "I love you."

"Right. Goodbye, Yanna."

The tears fell as he ended the call.

I loved him. Even after all this, I loved him. But I could also feel my love dying bit by bit as Constantijin did his best to kill it, with one hurtful word after another.

Day Thirty-One

“Do you guys even have sex still?” Of course Alyx was one who had to ask that.

            “Alyx,” Daria hissed from her side of the screen. Next to her, I saw Nik wince at Alyx’s question.

This video call was supposed to make me feel better, after all. But I really didn’t mind. These days, I was too tired to mind anything. “Yeah, we do. It’s the only time he wants me next to him.”

            But Alyx wasn’t done torturing me. “And you still sleep in the same bed?”

            “Sometimes,” I mumbled, blinking rapidly as I answered because my eyes were, like, really, really itchy.

            Daria’s tone was gentle when she asked, “Yanna, what if you tried
not
saying it?”

            I shook my head.

            “God, you’re still such an iron head,” Alyx burst out. It was a nickname that my dad came up with when I was sixteen and I had stubbornly stalked him in one of his golfing tournaments until he gave in and let me have surfing lessons. Since my friends had been tagging along behind me, the nickname sort of stuck.

            “I know.” My parents hadn’t wanted me to take surfing lessons because they knew how I tended to panic when I got in too deep. And they were right. I did panic and almost drowned in my first lesson. I sort of knew that would happen but I wanted to give it a try anyway. I just wasn’t the type to back down without trying, and that was exactly how things were with Constantijin and me.

            Nik began, “You’re placing too much pressure---”

            “But it’s not supposed to be that way,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. “It’s not, like, bad for me to love him. I won’t stop saying it.”

            “Even if you know he doesn’t want to hear it?” Daria asked with a sad smile.

            Biting my lip to stop it from trembling, I said simply, “Even if he kicks me out of his life because of it.”

Day Thirty-Five

Constantijin was staring at me, his silvery eyes burning as he took in the deep V of the gown I had decided to wear for tonight’s fundraiser, which was also organized by his parents.

            I did a little twirl, just so he could appreciate that the black silky gown didn’t have any back either. I also hoped he’d notice my pretty hairstyle, which I spent a hundred dollars for. I didn’t do it to compete with the other women in the party, though. I just wanted to be pretty enough so that Constantijin would remember I still…existed.

            “That seems sexier than your usual,” he finally murmured, his eyes still on my breasts, which – right now – were worth staring at since just a quarter of them was left covered. Even though I felt like a total slut for wearing this gown, it felt good, too.

            I shrugged in answer. “Is it?”

            And that was that.

            The ride to the hotel was spent in silence, completely unlike how Constantijin and I used to talk – or make love – if we had even just a minute alone inside his limousine.

            Tonight was another occasion I would have to rub elbows with the rich and famous, but it wasn’t why my heart was racing in fear. In the weeks that Constantijin and I had been…okay…with each other, I had learned how to effectively navigate my way around these parties. All I had to do was stand next to Constantijin, smile, and pretend I didn’t notice the horrid looks and words that everyone was throwing at me behind my back. Eventually, you just didn’t notice them at all because you got so used to it.

            I smoothed nonexistent wrinkles on my gown, using it to keep my hands from being restless. I was nervous because
this
was the first time we’d be out as a couple – and not feel like it. It was also the first time we’d meet his parents again after Marge decorated the apartment Constantijin had loaned out to me.

            We talked on the phone frequently, and every time we did I tried my very best to pretend I was fine – that her son and I were fine. But I wasn’t confident at all I could do the same face to face.     

            The driver parked directly in front of the hotel’s red carpet entrance, where behind the velvet ropes a throng of reporters and cameramen waited. Constantijin stepped out first and turned towards me, his hand outstretched.

            I couldn’t make myself take it, not when I knew he didn’t really want to touch me at all outside our bedroom.

            But --- pride cometh before a fall and the moment I stepped out of the limousine, I tripped on the hem of my gown. I would have fallen flat on my face if Constantijin hadn’t managed to catch me. He barely managed to actually, almost missing out in catching me.

            I fell on him, Constantijin bent halfway backwards, his head squashed between my breasts.

            Camera bulbs flashed, followed by shouts and catcalls.

            We quickly pulled away, Constantijin coughing while I turned red in embarrassment. Then our eyes met and suddenly we were laughing.

            I was so relieved at how everything felt incredibly right between us I wanted to cry.

            “Ah, Yanna. Now I’m beginning to see the benefits of those breasts.”

            “Shut up,” I hissed, but he only laughed harder as I felt my cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red at his words.

            Guiding my arm to curl around his, he slowly led us down the red carpet. “But it was fun, getting squished by your breasts. I could see the headlines. Constantijin Kastein’s Girlfriend is the Breast Squisher.”

            “Shut up or I’ll kill you!” I couldn’t help looking around to check if someone had heard him or worse someone was already quoting him in a tweet.

            He stopped a few feet away from the hotel’s revolving doors. “I’ll promise to shut up about it---”

            “But?” I finally asked in exasperation, realizing that he wasn’t going to speak until I asked.

            “You have to kiss me first. Here. In front of everyone.” And as if that wasn’t enough, he added helpfully, “With tongue please.”

            I already wanted to die in embarrassment just by imagining what he was asking me to do. “I can’t,” I wailed.

"Constantijin! Yanna!" Marge’s voice reached us first and we had already a respectable distance between us by the time his mother joined us at the red carpet.

More flashes followed, and Marge gamely posed for it, pulling us close to her on each side.

“Why, you look terribly red, Yanna,” Marge said when she decided the paparazzi had enough photos of us and turned to me with a smile.

“I’m…good.” God, I couldn’t even make myself look at her. I felt like she had just caught us making out.

“Are you sure?” She turned to Constantijin. “Darling, don’t you think---oh.”

My head jerked up in confusion at her tone and then I saw her staring with open-mouthed shock at Constantijin, whose beautifully fit pants suddenly appeared too tight for his body.

“Constantijin!” she reprimanded, her own cheeks reddening as the newsmen around us caught us and camera bulbs started flashing again.

“Let me take care of that monster,” a woman behind me muttered.

I scowled even as Constantijin gave me a lazy grin, having obviously heard the same thing.

As Marge ushered us in, one of the reporters whistled, and I could feel the leer in his tone as he said, “Look at those pointed nipples, man.”

I covered my chest with a gasp just as Constantijin started back, his eyes blazing.

“Constantijin!” Marge uttered his name in a chilly tone.

He stopped on his tracks, but his body was still tense in rage.

I pulled him towards the doors. “Let’s just go, please.” I tugged his hand repeatedly until he let me drag him into the hotel.

When we emerged past the revolving doors, Marge clucked her tongue, murmuring in reproof, “You two are late.”

"My fault," Constantijin owed up. "My meeting finished later than it should have."

"It's always, always business with you!" she complained with a look of commiseration directed at me. “I hope you change once you and Yanna get married---especially when you start having babies.” She added wistfully, “I do want a grandchild soon.”

And poof!

Everything was ruined.

Trying to salvage it, I laughingly protested, “Marriage? It's too early to speak about that!”

Constantijin gave me a smile of surprised relief.

That hurt...and made my eyes itch.

"It is too early," he agreed. "So let Yanna and I enjoy each other first, okay?"

"You're not getting any younger!" Marge warned. "You should appreciate the fact that this girl's stupid enough to care for you, you know, and marry her right away!" She cackled at her own joke.

Oh my God, what was it with tonight? Was it, like, a Kill Yanna Day and nobody took the time to tell me about it? In a mad effort to throw water on the bridges his mother was unwittingly burning, I said with mock seriousness, “I hate to break this to you, Marge, but your son is just not the guy I’m hoping to marry. He’s too much an OC for me when it comes to household stuff.”

But still Constantijin’s face remained expressionless.

I went on doggedly. "I mean, imagine, he doesn't let me sleep until he's absolutely sure I had washed and dried all the dishes. And they have to be arranged by design, too!”

Taking my hand so we could walk side by side, she murmured, “He got that from me, I’m afraid.”

Behind us, Constantijin remained quiet.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Day Forty-One

“Wait!” A voice called out to me just as I was about to slip the ten-dollar bill into the slot for an energy bar.

            I was already smiling when I turned around, and I smiled even more widely when I saw Drake actually
running
towards me from the end of the hallway.

            “What’s the hurry?” I asked.

            “You and this machine don’t get along,” he answered readily as he took the bill from my fingers. “So to save you from potential anguish, let me do this for you.”