"Is this really it?"
As I visibly struggled to speak, he cursed, making me flinch.
"God, Yanna, do I make you that sad? Can you never forgive me?"
I tried to make him understand, but all I could choke out was "No."
He paled, and it was his turn to struggle to speak. "I … I understand. I have no one to blame but myself but please … please." His voice turned hoarse. "Please don't leave."
I felt his fingers moving, his hands unclenching and clenching on each side of my face. Yet they never touched me, as if he couldn't make himself do it. "I don't think I can bear it if you leave, Yanna."
Oh, God.
"Constantijin, it's not---"
"Just don't leave." And then he was on his knees.
"Oh my God. Get up, please." I tried pulling him up but he had turned into immovable stone, his beautiful face a portrait of despair. "Let me explain, okay?"
"I don't need you to explain how I fucked up, Yanna," he said in a dull voice. "But you need to hear me explain." He dragged a long, hard breath in. "I know you finally realized my threat was fucking bullshit."
I cried harder. His English had gone to hell, and his Dutch accent made me understand only half of what he was saying. It was one sign after another knocking on my heart, telling me to see what I should have seen all along.
"Now you are leaving the first chance you get, but you need to give me just one fucking chance!" Constantijin shouted the last word as he gazed up at me in agony. "Just don't leave. Anything you want, even if you want to have a fucking boyfriend and I'm the man you date on the side---"
That he would say something like it, promising something that was almost like what his father had to go through when Marge wasn't herself --- it sent me on my knees, too. "Constantijin, no," I whispered.
He grabbed my hand and pressed it to his cheek. "Yes," he said brokenly. "If that's what it takes to keep you with me. I love you that much."
I didn't need to hear him say those words. I already knew it the moment George made me open my eyes to the truth. But when I did hear him say it, my world - which had been revolving in an uneven degree for quite some time – found its rightful place.
Everything became clear. The right path - the yellow brick road everyone was looking for - showed up like a street of gleaming gold and it led directly to Constantijin.
My life was with Constantijin, my very own billionaire, the man who could hurt me a billion ways but could love me in a billion ways more.
No matter what happened, I loved him and I was going to be happy with him, unhappy without him.
I felt more than saw his hands trembling as they went to stroke my hair. "Please Yanna, please don't cry."
After a while, I finally managed to control my tears. I leaned back and smiled at him tremulously. "I wasn't going to leave."
He looked like he thought I was demented but was too afraid to show it. "So what are the suitcases for?"
I choked back a teary giggle. I tried to pull away, but it only made him pull me into his arms, his lips touching my hair, kissing my forehead, erasing the trail of tears on my cheeks. "Stay a second more, Yanna," he said gruffly. "Please. I missed this."
But I stubbornly pulled away. I almost felt guilty at the look of devastation in Constantijin's eyes, but he had to let me go, just for now. I needed him to see me clearly when I told him the truth.
"Constantijin, I was not leaving. I was moving back in with you."
It took him several moments to react.
His face became grim. "So the things I did," he said slowly.
"Yeah," I said with a wobbly smile.
"The whole desperate, emasculating act---"
I winced, but I couldn't stop smiling shakily. "Yeah."
His Dutch accent very strong, he said, "There was no need for it at all?"
"Sorry, but yeah."
Constantijin was silent for a long time. I started to lean back, wary of the possibility he'd freak out on me, when he spoke. "It's fine."
"It … is?"
The softest and loveliest smile touched his lips. "I still mean every word."
Unable to help it any more, I threw myself in his arms, causing Constantijin to lose his balance. His laughter and my giggles mingled in the hallway as he fell to the floor, grunting when I landed on top of him heavily.
He looked up at me, the uncertainty in his gaze making me cry harder. Alyx would kill me when she found out how much I cried in the past half hour but right now – it didn't matter what she'd think, what anyone would think. I almost lost the one man I was destined to love in my entire life. And now I had him back. I was so, like, going to cry a billion buckets if that meant I'd have Constantijin forever.
His body tense under me, he said hoarsely, "Does this mean you forgive me?"
A nod was all I could manage, the tears rendering me speechless.
"And that---" His voice was uneven, as if he was unsure he could believe what he was hearing. "You're coming back. Is that it, Yanna?"
Shit.
Bracing my hands on his chest, I pulled myself up as fear struck my heart. "Are you panicking again? You've begged me to come back and now that I have, are you panicking again and regretting what you asked me to do?" Oh God, if I was right, I was, like, going to die – but not before I killed him first.
Constantijin's silvery eyes blinked, and then he was laughingly hauling me back down to him, one hand gripping my hair in a familiar way that brought more tears to my already aching and tired eyes. He pulled me down for a kiss that wasn't sexy at all, not with my tears making the taste of my lips salty. But he was kissing me like a starving man, and the promise in his lips made my toes curl all the same.
Woozy did not even cover how I felt when he finally released me.
"Yanna, I love you."
"That's sweet, Constantijin, but that's not what I want to hear right now."
He raised a brow.
"Promise me you won't have stupid panic attacks again."
Constantijin laughed.
I tugged his hair. "I mean it." I tried not to return his crazy happy grin, the kind I knew I used to have all the time in the past. But it was impossible. He was as irresistible as ever.
He reached up to kiss my nose. "I promise."
God, Constantijin Kastein – the sexiest man alive in the world – was feeling so in love he had to kiss … my nose. It was so adorable I had to kiss his back. Then I tested the waters and asked, "Cross your heart?"
"Cross my heart."
I giggled. "Pinky swear?"
His eyes narrowed. "Yanna, I love you more than anything else in this world, but do not push it."
Epilogue
How (Not) to be Seduced by Billionaires …
And How to Make Them Fall in Love Instead
There is no lesson, no key to your billionaire's heart, no cage to keep him yours.
You just love him.
One Month Later
"How long are you going to punish me?" Constantijin demanded from the opposite side of the table, which right now wasn't the far end. He was just seated across me, close enough for me to have my feet propped on his leg under the table. I was in no mood to have another shouted exchange. The last time we did that had us popping lozenges like ecstasy pills the next day.
Shared laughter from his parents spilled out of the iPad screen, and Constantijin looked at them with a scowl. "And you two are really enjoying this."
It was the first night of our honeymoon – even though we weren't even engaged. Both of us knew we were going there, so we thought it wouldn't matter if we had the honeymoon first. Well, okay, it was just a private vacation. But I preferred the tone ‘honeymoon' over Constantijin's ‘fuck week'. I mean, really? Fuck week?
Daria had been so happy Constantijin and I were back together that she and Nik booked us a week-long stay at the presidential suite of The Raj Palace Hotel. It had four floors, a terrace with stupendous views of Jaipur, and the most glorious pool. But the best thing about it was it even had its own freaking museum.
The moonlight shone behind us, reflected by the ornately designed surface of the vast table Constantijin requested management to move outdoors from the dining area.
"But you do look so adorable when someone's forcing you to eat what you don't want," Marge admitted with a chuckle.
Taking my feet off his lap, I stood up so I could bend over and feed him another spoonful of Hunt's pork and beans – the ultimate classic example of canned food.
"Poor baby," I said with mock sympathy even as I fed him the last spoonful from the bowl. "See? You ate it all. That wasn't so bad, was it?"
He didn't say anything, but his silver eyes shot enough sparks to speak volumes. Then he smiled. "Now, sweetheart, I don't think it's fair I'm the only one being fed. I think it's your turn."