When I clicked the link on another tabloid coverage of the same events, I found a paparazzi photo of the two entering what was labeled as Selena's hotel room – at three in the morning.
"You okay, Yanna?" George asked with a frown from his cubicle when he heard me let out a gasp of hurt.
Quickly closing the tab, I answered in a wobbly voice, "Yup."
I didn't cry at work, and for the first time in my life, I managed not to tell anyone about it. I couldn't. It was too …
Oh God, I couldn't even think of a word for it.
But when I reached my home that night, I quickly locked the door, pulled up the covers, and that's when I let the tears fall, for the rest of the night.
~~~~
Glenda managed to corner me the next day even though I did my very best to avoid her. Constantijin had been calling and mailing me all day until I was forced to remove the battery of my phone and throw all of it inside my drawer. If I wasn't so practical, I would have changed my number as well. But that was too impractical and I didn't do impractical. I did stupid, silly, foolish but only because I had extremely bad taste in men.
"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 Constantijin's office. His blazer was hanging at 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 even one photo 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 beside 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 expected sob escaped, 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 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 when she had a closer look of my face. Puffy eyes, red nose, trembling lips – that was how I looked 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 talking.
Too much pillow talk talking 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 at 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.