"If you do not leave your office in five seconds and have your lunch, I will assign you to take on a classic literature project with Arian."
"I'm going." God, Charli was so devious. She just knew what my worst fears were. If that ever happened, I knew Arian would take every chance she could get to make it clear to me that her Ivy League diploma made her the better judge about literature.
"Yadda, yadda, yadda," I muttered to myself as I stepped out of the office.
And then I heard it.
Across the hall, near the doors leading to Constantijin's offices, I heard his voice – and hers. Arian's.
They were just talking about … work. They had to be talking about work. What else would they even talk about? By the time I finished rationalizing the situation, I was standing around the corner of the hallway, and one step was all it would take for them to see me.
Arian was giggling. "Mr. Kastein, you shouldn't say such things!"
"Constantijin, please. You make me sound too old for you when you call me that."
Arian's tone became husky. "Then Constantijin, you can't say I'm beautiful. It's not right when you have a girlfriend."
"Why is it wrong when I'm only stating a fact?"
My heart lurched. It was like déjà vu, a nightmarish version of the exchange I had with Drake a few days ago.
Constantijin wasn't saying anything wrong. In fact, he wasn't even saying anything I hadn't heard before. Constantijin was the type who dished out compliments all the time. He told his sixty-something housekeeper she was beautiful all the time. He complimented the shy receptionist at the lobby all the time, telling her she had great taste in clothes, that her hair was pretty.
He was that kind of man, and none of it used to matter.
Until now.
This time, his words sounded different, and my chest slowly started to ache.
"How are you and Yanna?"
Damn her, goddamn her for asking!
There was a moment for silence before Constantijin replied, a bit flatly, "We are okay."
Ha! Take that, Arian!
Granted, it wasn't the best thing to say about a relationship, but "okay" was still better than "not okay".
Constantijin continued, "We enjoy each other's company, that's all."
"You mean you love each other," Arian teased.
Damn her. Goddamn her. I so knew what she was after and it was my blood – my blood, which was, like, already flooding the entire floor in an invisible stream of heartbreak.
I hurt so much I thought my heart couldn't bleed any more, but Constantijin proved me wrong with just one word. "No." And as if that didn't hurt enough, he said lightly, "Yanna's known since day one that it was never about that."
I covered my mouth before they could hear me gasp.
Constantijin's voice took in a warm, seductive tone. "But who knows? Maybe someone like you could change my mind."
Arian didn't get to answer that anymore because by then, I had gone around the corner. "What the fuck did you say?"
Lesson #13
Your billionaire will be very good at making you cry, in more ways than one.
Arian was shocked. Then her eyes gleamed with smug malice, even though she did her best to hide it by letting out a fake moan of horror. Honestly, I couldn't, like, care less about her.
What really, really hurt was the lack of surprise on Constantijin's face, as if he had wanted this all along.
When neither of them answered, I shrieked again, "What the fuck did you just say to her, Constantijin?"
His name seemed to be the magic word everyone was waiting for. Doors started opening at the same time, heads bobbing in and out as they tried to not so obviously watch the show.
Arian shook her head in shame sympathy. "Oh, Yanna, you weren't supposed to--"
Irritated by the mere sound of her voice, I took a deep breath, glanced at Arian, and gave her the finger. I heard choked laughter behind me. Arian started for me, but suddenly Drake was there, gripping her by the shoulders. He whispered something into her ear, and Arian whitened before stalking off.
A chilly mask had slipped over Constantijin's face. "That was uncalled for, Yanna."
In the act of giving Drake a grateful smile, I whirled back to Constantijin when I realized what he had just said. "Did you just, like, side with her?" Even though my voice was starting to hurt my own ears, I couldn't stop shrieking. I just couldn't.
"This is not the place." The look of contempt that accompanied his words hurt.
I knew he was right. Of course I, like, fucking knew that. But let him tell that to my heart – my super bleeding-to-death-heart and, damn them, I wasn't even exaggerating.
It was a struggle not to cry as I spoke but I managed to keep the tears from falling. "Why did you even have to say t-those words?"
Constantijin thankfully didn't try to pretend he had no idea what I was talking about. "It was a fucking joke. And yes, I admit it was a stupid one, but it was a joke."
"Jokes are half-meant," I cried out.
Constantijin spat something out in Dutch before saying tiredly, "For pity's sake, don't start on me with that."
And that was what did it, that final kick Alyx told me I was in the habit of waiting for before I could make myself … give up.
He sounded tired.
He made it sound I was, like, this fucking burden to him and I hadn't even known it. How sad was that? How humiliating? All this time, I had been wrong. I thought he didn't want me to love him because it made him aware of how much he loved me back, of how much like his dad he could be if he let himself love me.
But it wasn't like that.
He hadn't said he loved me because he was exactly like his dad. He was too nice to kick me out, yet I had been too stupid to notice. I kept pushing him until – he felt trapped. By me.
"I'm sorry," I said dully.
I walked past Constantijin, and I almost stumbled because the pain as I did.
Drake called my name as I reached the doors. "Yanna---"
Humiliation, complete and excruciating, flayed my entire being when I realized that he had probably heard and saw everything. Stupid Yanna, of course he would have. "Please, Drake," I whispered. "Don't tell my parents about this."
"I won't."
When he started to speak, I shook my head, knowing that he wanted to be my Mr. Fix It again. But it just wasn't the right time. "I just need to be alone."
I walked out of the office, the building, the first step to walking out of the fucking mess I had created because I didn't know when to cut my losses. I started to cry when I reached the bus station, and I cried harder when I got on the bus and realized I had absolutely no money on me. Turning to the guy waiting in line at my back, I sobbed out, "C-could I b-borrow some money? I p-promise to p-pay you---"
He hastily gave me a twenty. "No need to pay me."
He looked scared of me. Maybe he thought I was crazy, and it made me cry harder for some reason. "T-thanks," I sniffed as I shakily handed the bus driver my fare.
When I got home, I wanted to burst into tears again.
I didn't even have keys to Constantijin's pad either!
Walking back to reception, I sobbed out to the old man behind the counter, "C-could I, like, borrow your spare key to our unit?" God, I was so miserable I was talking like a ditz to everyone!
Like the guy at the bus, the concierge was just as quick in giving me his spare set of keys. I guess men were really that allergic to a woman's tears. Somehow, this thought also made me cry more and I sobbed all the way up the elevator.
It felt good to cry. It really did, and I let it all out when I reached the room Constantijin shared with me. It didn't feel right at all to call it ours now. After throwing in all the clothes my suitcase could handle, I struggled to zip it closed. The door crashed open just as I dragged it off the bed.
Constantijin appeared unkempt, which was a rare sight. In fact, it was the very first time I saw him like this, like he had run straight into a hurricane to get here. For a moment, I could only stare at him in shock.
Constantijin Kastein was like Martha Stewart – the six-foot-plus gorgeous male version, that is. You just never caught him looking less than perfect. Until now.
"What are you doing?" he asked hoarsely.
Wasn't it obvious? I wanted to say the words, but I just didn't have that much energy. What little I had left needed to be expended on getting the handle of my luggage extended.
He crossed the room, reaching out to me with one hand. "Yanna---"
And that was when I lost it.
I slapped him.
Constantijin and I stared at each other, and I didn't know who was more shocked.
"Oh God, I'm sorry," I whispered, staring at my hands, aghast at what I just did. I slapped him a lot of times before this, but those were...accidental. This one wasn't. It wasn't like me to deliberately slap someone. Flipping someone the finger had been the rudest thing I had done in my life and yet here I was, slapping someone...and actually feeling good about it. This just wasn't me – and it made me remember the many times I kept thinking how I was never like myself when I was with him.