"The boss is looking for you," was all Glenda said as she practically manhandled me into Constantijin's office. She was frighteningly strong for a woman her age.
Rubbing my wrists, I almost jumped in surprise when Constantijin's hands settled on my shoulders, whispering as he turned me around to face him, "Miss me?"
For a moment, my heart twisted in all kinds of agony as I gazed at his beautiful face, his golden-copper-tinted hair gleaming even more brightly with the sun's rays shining into his office. His blazer was hanging on the back of his chair, leaving him in his silk shirt, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
He looked the same yet different, too, like he was … like he was glad to see me but wasn't sure if I would feel the same.
Smart of him.
I stepped back from his hold. Standing so close to Constantijin, I felt immeasurably small in my flats. If I had known he'd be coming back today, I would have worn heels instead. And – and I would have worn something jaw-droppingly sexy instead of a rather ordinary three-piece.
"You didn't miss me then?" A quizzical smile appeared on his lips.
Lips that could have touched another woman's lips, cheeks, body---
I almost lost my balance, the wave of pain crashing down on me a tangible weight.
"Are you all right?" He reached out for me.
I took another step back, my skin crawling at the thought of being touched by hands that could have touched another woman's just the night before.
Unlike him, I wasn't the type to beat around the bush so I just said baldly, "I saw you." I took a deep breath. "I saw you online – a bunch of photos that showed you and Selena together, and one photo even showed you entering her hotel room."
Constantijin stilled, a blank mask falling over his gorgeous face. Then he said simply, "I see."
"What do you mean, you see?" I exploded, almost falling to my knees at the pain his words caused.
His hands went inside his pockets. "I didn't peg you to be the type to ascribe to double standards."
It took me several moments to understand his meaning. I whitened when I did. Basically, he was telling me that since I didn't promise fidelity while he was away, it meant that he wasn't obliged to do the same. Cultural differences may be at work here, but --- dammit, couldn't he have asked?
"It's not like that," I told him flatly.
"It's exactly like that!"
"No, it's not!" My fists clenched in impotent anger and hurt. "You're the one courting me!"
"So?"
I couldn't believe he could just stand there so arrogantly, not even bothering to defend himself or apologize. "You just don't get it, do you?" I asked wearily.
"You are the one who doesn't get it," he said between clenched teeth. He was angry – really angry, and that made me more tired. "I told you that I am not to be played---"
"And you weren't. You were never … " I wheezed for air, the pain of what he was wordlessly admitting to choking me. "I didn't want to promise you I wouldn't entertain suitors because I didn't want you to know how much I liked you. Just that. But I never entertained any suitors. I didn't even date anyone or talk to any guy besides you. You can ask anyone here and it's the truth."
Constantijin was pale by the time I finished, which I regretted honestly because even after what I did, it was never my intention to hurt him. I just – I just wanted him to know that it could have been really good between us.
"So, if there's nothing you can think of saying anymore---" An unexpected sob escaped me, and when Constantijin looked stricken at the sound, I whirled around, unable to bear the look of pity on his face.
To hell with this.
I hurried out of the room as quick as my new mules could carry me. Walking straight into the rest room, I locked myself in the first available cubicle that I could reach.
And then I cried again.
I kept my phone dead the whole weekend and when I came to work on Monday, Glenda was standing watch at my door. "The boss wants to see you, so make up an excuse and then---"
"Glenda," I whispered.
She stopped speaking, her eyebrows shooting up after she had taken a closer look at my face. Puffy eyes, red nose, trembling lips – that was how I looked like when I stared at myself in the mirror this morning, and I doubted I looked any better now.
"Glenda, please. It's over between us."
She took another look at me before nodding, turning her back and walking away. The calls and texts came next, all of which I rejected and deleted. The flowers followed, and I donated them to the charity occupying an office in 7/F.
On Thursday, Charli told me I had a call in her office. Thinking it was the client she had assigned to me earlier to negotiate with, I took it quickly, aiming to sound very professional as I said, "Good morning, this is Yanna Everleigh---"
"Yanna."
It was him.
"Don't put the phone down." His voice sounded raw, like he had wounded his throat from too much talking.
Too much pillow talk 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 to 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 cleaned up quite nicely in formal attire. White tuxes were hard to carry off 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 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.