Constantijin.
There was Constantijin, grinning at me.
I whirled back to the night guard, who was scowling at me now. This time, I notice how his uniform top wasn’t tucked, his belt left hanging from the loops, and his pants zipped halfway.
Oh, dear.
I so didn’t want to know what I had just interrupted. Red as a tomato, I stammered, “Sorry, I didn’t know someone else was here.”
The look on the night guard’s face told me to drop dead, but he left without a word after tipping his hat respectfully to Constantijin, who had just come out of his office. Having him near made my temper boil – and when he actually started laughing again the moment the night guard left us, I totally lost it. Again.
Slap.
“Yanna!” It was his fiercest and most furious growl, ever.
And okay, I had to admit I was more than a little scared at the look on his face – surely Constantijin wasn’t so angry he’d forget murder was a crime – I forced myself to stand my ground. “You deserved it!”
“I f**king didn’t!"
We glared at each other. Then suddenly his gaze dropped, and I realized that with the neckline I had pulled so low and my br**sts heaving in emotion---
I crossed my arms over my chest with a cry of protest. “Stop staring!”
He was doing his best not to grin, I’d give him that. But as far as I was concerned, he needed to try harder. This was so not funny. Well, okay, it was – but he totally had to pretend it wasn’t.
“You should have let me know you were inside,” I snapped.
“I was about to---but then I saw you suddenly shake your head---”
His words made me recall my actions with a cringe.
“And then you started applying makeup like you had a bit role as one of The Walking Dead---”
Oh God, this was the most embarrassing moment in my life.
“And to top it off, you actually made your br**sts---”
“I get it,” I snarled, cutting him off because I couldn’t bear listening to another word. “I was acting crazy. Happy now?”
Constantijin sent me a curious glance, his head cocked to the side. It was my first time to see him like this, and my heart tripped all over itself at the sight of it.
Constantijin was here.
Constantijin was talking to me.
The impact of those realizations finally hit me, and I suddenly found it hard to breathe.
“Why were you acting like that?”
I shrugged, wanting to lie but with my mind so messed up, I couldn’t think of something else to say but the truth.
“Yanna?”
Letting out a sigh, I mumbled, “I wanted to look like a bimbo.”
He reared back. “Why?”
I glanced up, a little taken aback at the shock threading through his tone. No – it was more than shock. It was something else – like I had just committed genocide in his eyes.
“Constantijin?”
“Why?” he demanded, his voice noticeably cooler.
Bemused, I blurted out, “Because I was thinking if I looked like a bimbo, you’d like me.”
The silence that followed was so incredibly tense I didn’t dare move, scared that if I did I would ruin the atmosphere. It wasn’t good, wasn’t bad – but it felt crucial. When he spoke again, it was in a curt voice that made me forget all about being soft and vulnerable and had my hackles rising.
“Come to my office.”
He turned his back on me without waiting for my answer, which I found completely reprehensible. I dug my heels and answered frostily, “No. This is my free time and---”
“Yanna, will you f**king obey me for once and follow me inside?” He disappeared into his office.
I debated with myself, wondering whether I should push my luck or not. It was my free time. And he so totally didn’t say ‘please’, which he should have – even if he was my CEO. Besides, what was there to talk about? Work?
My eyes widened.
Work!
Oh my God, what if we were going to talk about work?
I totally wanted to bang my head against his glass walls until they crashed. I was such a ninny for thinking he wanted to talk to me about anything else. He had weeks to do that, but he hadn’t. So what made me think that tonight was going to be any different?
Lesson #2
Beware when your billionaire wants to talk.
It usually means he wants to f**k.
Hurrying after Constantijin inside his office, I hastily tried thinking of an excuse for my less than respectful behavior – not exactly a good basis for a job recommendation from the CEO –but couldn’t think of any. Shit, shit, shit. He wouldn’t fire me just because I overreacted – would he?
I slowed down as I crossed the threshold of his office, tense and wary. The last time we came here he was on full attack mode, and I ended up sprawled on his desk, his mouth on my---well, never mind about that.
Constantijin stood in the middle of his office, hands behind his back, facing the windows. He was elegantly dressed in a dark suit – minus the tie now, as his reflection on the window showed.
My knees quivered in belated response at his impossibly gorgeous looks. Oh, God, why couldn’t I get used to how beautiful he was? Once upon a time, I had this hugest crush on Channing Tatum but after seeing him at my gym every freaking day, my glasses slowly lost its rosy tints, and he became human in my eyes. Even his drool-worthy abs were totally ho-hum-ordinary for me now.
But Constantijin?
Every day, he just seemed more gorgeous, sexier, and so much more unreachable than he already was.
I cleared my throat. “Sir?”
Constantijin turned around. This time, I got a really good look at him, and it made me let out a small gasp. He looked – less than perfect. Still beautiful but – now he was beautiful in an imperfect way when he was never that before.
His hair looked like he had been running his hand through it all over (because of me?), his eyes had noticeably darker circles under them (because of me?), and his slightly unshaven face bore a faint red mark on his left cheek (totally because of me).
His eyes narrowed. “Stop it with the sirs.”
Keep it cool, keep it cool, I reminded myself, biting my lip to prevent myself from saying anything I shouldn’t. I had a very bad urge to throw myself at him and bawl like a baby. I missed him. Oh dear Lord, how I had missed him!
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, sir.” Yes, I was provoking him. No, I had no idea why I was doing it.
Exasperation lined his face. “Yanna.”
“Mr. Kastein,” I said, imitating his tone perfectly.