Eternally Seduced(7)

My greatest fear about the job was not being able to contribute, but as  the day progressed, I gradually  –  happily  –  realized that this job was  really meant for me. With my fluency in Japanese and Mandarin, I was  able to obtain more information about the various series I could  recommend to the company. I wasn't restricted to English translated  sites but instead could dig deeper into the blogs of both mangaka and  their readers.

I was so engrossed with what I was doing that I hadn't noticed lunchtime  had come and gone. By the time my stomach let out a loud growling  protest that had Arian glaring at me and George chuckling, it was  already three in the afternoon.

Big mistake, I could hear the ever-practical Alyx tutting in my head.  Never show your boss you're having so much fun at work that you're  willing to skip lunch. They'll come to expect it from you all the time  after.

"Could you tell Charli I went out for a quick lunch?" I asked George as I grabbed my purse from the table.

George nodded, eyes glued on the screen. He seemed just as engrossed as I  was with his own work. "I'll text you if she needs something urgent."

"Thanks," I said over my shoulder, already on my way out.

Arian and I did not look at each other as I left.         

     



 

Yup, bitter frenemies it really was.

Employees of Kastein, Inc. had access to a private cafeteria in 30/F,  which looked more like a hotel lobby holding a gourmet food fair. The  staff was dressed  –  you guessed it  –  entirely in black. One section of  the cafeteria had cozy crescent-shaped booths while the rest had  matching sets of steel-legged tables and chairs accessorized with the  finest tablecloths and cushions, both also in black.

All of us had daily meal allowances. How much you could spend depended  on your job level. Right now, I had $10 to spend each day. Anything I  incurred over that, I had to pay out of pocket.

To take your one-hour lunch break, you need to clock out. Most people  already had by the time the machine scanned my fingerprints. Overhead, a  huge board showed a list of the initials of every employee working for  Kastein, Inc. The light next to my initials blinked blue, which meant I  was on a break. It would turn green once I clocked back in or red if I  didn't show up for work.

My eyes strayed unconsciously to the top of the board, where Constantijin's own initials were also on display.

Blue.

There went my heart, racing all the way to the finish line of utter emotional stupidity and winning first place.

The cafeteria was nearly deserted when I went through the swinging  doors. One table at the corner was occupied by giggling interns as they  repeatedly looked over their shoulders.

Their subject of interest?

He had his back to me, but the exquisite color of his hair was easily  recognizable. I quickly turned around and walked to the Italian station,  my heart torn between wishing he'd see me and wishing he wouldn't.

I asked for spaghetti with meatballs and iced cappuccino, waited  patiently for my order because I was too busy trying not to think about  Constantijin, and afterwards chose a table next to the windows, far from  the giggling girls.

As I took a sip of my coffee, I took a very surreptitious glance at where Constantijin was sitting.

He wasn't there.

Disappointment made my shoulders droop and I took comfort in twirling a  nice amount of spaghetti with my fork and feeding myself. Soon enough,  the delightful taste made me temporarily forget about Dutch playboys and  mini-orgasms. I closed my eyes, savoring the wonderful texture and  spicy taste of my meatballs.

When I opened my eyes, Constantijin was seated across me, a familiar  wicked grin playing on his lips, a glass of water in one hand. He was  dressed in another pinstriped suit, charcoal gray this time, and one  that also defined the broadness of his shoulders. His pale blue shirt  underneath was partially unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of his chest  –   the very same chest I was able to---

Aghast at where my thoughts were heading, I hissed, "You shouldn't be  here!" Then I remembered where we were and who I was talking to and I  added reluctantly, "sir."

He laughed when he saw me looking around nervously. I couldn't help it. I  didn't want anyone to know  –  see  –  that I was talking to him, much less  sharing a table with him. It smacked of inappropriateness, the kind  that could either get me fired or talked about in sly and hushed tones.  Luckily  –  or unluckily, I couldn't really decide at the moment  –  no one  was around and even the giggling interns were nowhere in sight.

Settling his glass down on the table, he said, "You certainly took your time coming here."

My eyes widened. He had been waiting for me?

When I didn't answer, a wry crooked grin touched his lips. "Do you do that deliberately?"

Frowning in confusion, I asked, "Do what?"

"Drive me crazy with your silence. You don't talk when most women would and you talk when I expect you not to."

When I didn't say anything, he sighed, "And you're doing it again."

Biting my lip, I confessed, "I'm not doing it deliberately. I just don't  know what to say when I'm around you." It was true. I liked talking  –  a  lot. But when Constantijin was around, I couldn't help getting  tongue-tied, couldn't help being on my guard either because with just  that first time we had met, he had so easily shown me how utterly weak  my body was in his presence.

He leaned close, so suddenly I almost jumped in my seat like a frightened rabbit. "What?" I asked almost defensively.

"Why did you run?"

I blurted out, "Why didn't you run after me?" As soon as the words were  out, I cursed myself nonstop. Shit. Idiot. Dummy. Why did I have to give  myself away like that?

Incredulity shone in Constantijin's eyes, and I gazed back at him challengingly, warily. I tensed when he started to speak.

"Because I don't." His answer shouldn't have surprised me but it did,  his voice implacably hard when he spoke those three little words.

"I want you, Yanna."

Still more than a little hurt at his rejection  –  because that was how it felt to me  –  I said stiffly, "Well, you can't have me."

His voice became seductive. "You and I both know that's a lie. But I  don't want to force you. I want you to come to me willingly and I'll do  whatever---"

Unable to bear hearing more because I knew they were all true, I cut him off desperately. "Constantijin---"

"I love it when you say my name," he breathed.

I love it when you say mine, too, I thought sadly. Too much so, and that was the problem.

I gazed at him, this time not bothering to hide the plea in my eyes.  "I'm not in your league, Constantijin. I don't do one-night stands. I  don't do affairs. I'm just … not like you," I ended helplessly.

"I know what you're saying, schat," he answered, and the way his eyes  burned through me made me swallow. Oh God. His eyes told me that right  now he was hard  –  had been from the start. For me.

Moisture formed between my legs in response.

Triumph blazed from his eyes. "But it's too late. The moment you walked  into my office, with your pink suit and sunny smile  –  the way you talked  to me without flirting, the way you entranced every man in the room  without even being aware of it---"

His words made my body so heavy with desire I couldn't breathe. He was  painting a woman I didn't recognize and yet the way he was staring at me  so intensely told me I was her.

"I want to be inside you very badly, Yanna, and I will have you."

I wanted to look away but couldn't. His gaze had once again enslaved me,  and it was all I could do not to lean toward him and beg for his touch.  In a last-ditch effort to save myself, I said shakily, "Can't we just  be friends?"

Without warning, I found myself being yanked forward from underneath the  table, and I let out a soft gasp of shock as I felt his hand go under  my skirt.

I stiffened.

"Sssh, darling, or people will know," he whispered.

I tried inching away but he retaliated by cupping my throbbing core, his  hand large enough to brand every inch with his touch. "If you keep  moving, I'll tear your---"

"I won't move!" I half-gasped the words out even as I glared at him.

But this only made his grin widen.

Then I felt his fingers going under the lacy fabric and my back shot up  even straighter. "No, Con---" I bit back a moan when his fingers drew a  straight line against my flesh, parallel to its folds, before he pressed  his thumb ever so softly against the tiny nub of flesh that even I had  never touched myself.

"Do you want me to make you come?" His teasing words were accompanied by  movement from his fingers, its tips darting in and out of me but never  really going inside.

Driven crazy by need, I actually found myself inching forward as if by  doing so I could trap his fingers inside me. Oh God, what was happening  to me? Constantijin Kastein was a stranger by almost all accounts. Yet  here I was, craving his touch like it was an addiction I couldn't live  without.