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 to 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 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 out.
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 between us.
"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 of the many times I kept thinking how I was never like myself when I was with him.
But not anymore, I thought to myself. Not when it was over between us. The thought almost sent me to my knees.
"I'm sorry," I said again even as I refocused on yanking the luggage handle out.
"I deserve it." Constantijin's voice was strained.
I pretended not to hear that. He shouldn't be saying that, not after everything.
He reached out for me again. This time I only tried to struggle, but this time he also didn't let go, forcing me to turn around and look into his bleak silver eyes.
"Just stop---just stop saying I love you," he told me in a raw voice. "We'd go back to how we were in the past, just stop saying it! I don't even get why you have to say it. If you love me, fine. But you don't need to say it. I never asked you to."
My entire body jerked at his words.
Constantijin looked like he wanted to take the words back. "Dammit, I shouldn't have said it like that---"
"No, you said it honestly," I managed to counter dully. I just wanted him to go away right now. I wanted everything to go away and just sleep. "You're right. You never asked me to say the words but I said it all the same." I swallowed. "But Constantijin, if you didn't like hearing it, why just not tell me directly? Why did you have to try hurting me and driving me away?"
Because maybe---maybe if he had explained then I wouldn't have been so stubborn.
But now it was too late.
Constantijin didn't answer. Instead, all he said was, "Let's just think things clearly---"
"No."
Constantijin's face whitened. "Yanna---" His voice shook. "Don't do this."
"I'm leaving." I said it more for myself.
Just one more time. Hadn't I promised that to Alex?
I gave him another chance, but he had hurt me again. So I had to keep my promise.
"We're finished---"
"No!" His voice was so fierce that it made me glance at him in stunned confusion. "You don't have to leave." Constantijin made a visible effort to lower his voice, even though agitation was clearly written all over his face.
I shook my head, even more painfully bewildered. What was this? Didn't he want me to leave all along?
"You shouldn't leave. We'll talk things through. You just don't say 'I love you' and things will---"
I stared at him helplessly. "I can't. I don't like feeling ashamed just because I love y---someone."
He flinched.
Furiously blinking the tears away, I tried to give my suitcase's handle another yank and this time my fingers finally had enough energy to pull it all the way out.
"You can't leave," he gritted out.
I ignored that and walked past him while wheeling my suitcase next to me.
Constantijin gripped my arm. "If you leave this building, I'll release your fucking naked video on the Internet."
I let go of the handle in shock. "What are you saying?"
He answered grimly, "I mean it, Yanna. You know I still have that video. Imagine what it would do to your parents if they learn about it. If they see it."
"You can't be serious!" I tried searching for an ounce of softness in his face but all I got was a mirthless smile slashing his lips.
"Wanna bet?"
"Why?" I demanded with a sob. "Why would you even do that? Can't you see I can't bear to be with you again?"
Constantijin flinched at my words, but he said flatly, "I want you to stay here and reconsider."
"But I won't change my mind, Constantijin." Little Miss Granite, I was tempted to tell him. It was the granite-hard head in me. Once I did give up something, I just gave it up for good.
Constantijin's face had turned even whiter with my words. "Just fucking stay."
"It will kill me---"
"Don't be melodramatic---"
"I'm not," I whispered. "I can't be this close to you all the time. I just can't."
His head whipped to the side as if he was unable to bear looking at me any longer, and that hurt. Still without looking at me, Constantijin said curtly, "Then stay at your apartment. Just don't fucking leave the building."
I left without a word and he didn't follow me.
When I entered my pad, I closed the door shut and almost collapsed against it afterwards, trying to catch my breath because I suddenly felt my lungs were on fire. I gasped for air, gasped for just a moment of relief from the suffocating pain of heartbreak.
My knees gave out and I slowly fell to the floor, my entire body trembling. I waited for the tears to come again, but they didn't. They never did the entire night. I guess I was all cried out.
Lesson #14
No matter how perfect your billionaire is,
you must remember in the end he is also only just a man.
"Mind if I sit with you?"
I looked up, trying to make my smile brighter as I did.
But Drake wasn't smiling, which caused mine to fade. His eyes shone with unspoken concern as he took the seat across me in a fluid, graceful motion. Did he snipe to kill with similar grace? It was a random thought, but my mind somehow managed to connect it to the one man I was still doing my best to forget.
Constantijin Kastein wasn't like that. He killed the women who loved him without an ounce of grace. Instead, it ended a holy mess, where there were bad feelings all around.
"Yanna?"
Shit. I had been thinking about him again. When was this going to stop? It had been a month. A whole month since we had broken up so why did it still hurt?
"Sorry," I managed to say to Drake. "I'm just still … in the process of becoming okay."
There was no point lying, not when everyone in the office knew the truth. After all, I hadn't been dating just anyone. I had been dating the CEO himself, the Dutch playboy billionaire half the world's female population was in love with as well. Of course everyone would think my life was their business, too.
He took my hand, surprising me, and I was even more surprised when he gently caressed my knuckles. "It will stop hurting, one day, Yanna. No wound lasts forever."
"Speaking from experience?" I asked lightly.
"The physical kind at least. Some wounds may not disappear but they do get numb."
I covered my mouth to keep anyone from hearing me trying not to sob. I hadn't cried when George, Charli, or even Alyx or Daria tried comforting me. But somehow, Drake was different. I didn't know why. He just was.
As if sensing my need for a change of subject, Drake asked, "Is Charli turning it into a slavedriver again to help you cope?"
The question made me giggle somewhat. "Yeah. She even broke her record this time – I had twenty-three Post-Its on my monitor today." It made me wonder if I should thank her or not.