Home > Caged (How Not to be Seduced by Billionaires #3)(17)

Caged (How Not to be Seduced by Billionaires #3)(17)
Author: Marian Tee

But with the small distance separating us, my mind was able to work – barely. And it was shouting all sorts of protest. Constantijin and I had only known each other for a few months, and in those days he had managed to change my life so much. He had given me my first taste of sexual desire, of heartbreak, of the most terrifying and exhilarating kind of love that I would know in my life.

And now he wanted me to take this one giant leap away from the safety and comfortable familiarity of my old life.

Constantijin said fiercely, “Tell me your objections.”

“I...my…it will kill my parents if they find out I’m living together with a guy.”

“Then do not tell them. Leave all your stuff at Alyx's place and you can create new memories with me.”

God, he was good. If he had told me to shop for new stuff like my old belongings didn’t matter, I would have baulked. But when he said it that way, oh dear Lord, I wanted it, too. I wanted new memories…any memories --- more memories with Constantijin.

“Is that all, Yanna?” There was a wry note to his voice, as if he knew I was simply grasping straws.

I started to feel panicky. That was the biggest – and admittedly lamest --- objection I could come up with but Constantijin had solved it in one shot.

Swallowing, I blurted out, “But Constantijin…what if you lose interest in me because of that?” It was my greatest fear and I wanted to cry just for saying it out loud.

“Yanna…”

I shook my head, not wanting to look at him because I was already crying. God, this was so embarrassing. All the women he dated in the past probably never cried in front of him because that would scare him away. And here I was, practically scaring him every day.

I only sensed Constantijin was near me when he was on his knee and pulling my hands away from my face. “Yanna, listen. You are the first – the only – woman I had ever courted, the only woman I had worked hard to have back in my life. You are the only woman I want enough to move in with me. How will it be possible for me to lose interest in you when I want you so much?”

“But there are so many others,” I sniffed. Pathetic, I knew, but it was also pathetically true.

His smile looked a bit ironic as he spoke. "You're the only girl I've dated that I'm not really sure of. I'm worried that there'd be something I'd do wrong again and you'll leave before you let me explain. You're the only girl I constantly look for---I always miss you when you're not with me."

I cried harder at his words. "But I'll never leave you," I choked, wishing I could say more but knowing he wouldn’t want to hear what else I had hidden in my heart.

“Take this risk with me, sweetheart,” he whispered as he tipped my chin up. “Please?”

God, he was so good. He knew I was such a sucker when he used that word to me. How could I not fall for it when I knew he had never used that word with anyone else?

I said shakily, “All right, but…I have conditions.”

“Name it,” he said readily, “and it’s yours.”

If I moved in with him, I needed to make sure no one would have reason to think that I was sponging off him. But I also had to be practical – there were a lot of things in his life that I would never be able to afford.

Chewing on my lip, I said slowly, “We’ll split expenses. I know that’s unrealistic since the upkeep for your home is more than what I earn in a year---”

“You’re exaggerating,” he said with a roll of his eyes, but his eyes were laughing, and I knew it was because he was happy.

The knowledge that I was the cause of that happiness made me giddy, and I couldn’t help giving him a crazy goofy smile as I continued, “So, I’ve decided…I’ll take care of the groceries---” Catching the look of uneasiness that briefly crossed his face, I demanded, “What?”

“I’ve seen the kitchen you share with your friend. You don’t even buy fresh produce. You eat canned food or if not you buy takeouts all the time. And you want to be the mistress of my kitchen?”

“But canned food is not that bad! And it’s cheap!” Yes, it was my exaggeratedly cheapskate genes from my Quaker grandparents talking.

Constantijin just stared.

I cringed. “Seriously? We have to buy fresh food all the time?”

“I’m always willing to take over all the expenses---”

Scowling, I cut him off, “Fine. Okay. Fresh produce all the time.” I shook my head. “God, you’re so high maintenance!”

He choked.

“What?” I growled.

Constantijin shook his head, a mysterious smile playing on his lips."Nothing. I just marvel at how unique you are.”

"Is that good or bad?" I asked suspiciously.

He suddenly pulled me to him, and I shrieked as we fell on the floor, me on top of him.

“Fucking good,” he breathed under me, his c**k already hard and throbbing against my sex.

He tugged a lock of my hair, which was his favorite way of getting my attention. It was another childish trait of Constantijin, an unbelievably cute one that I secretly couldn’t get enough of.

“What?” I said, bracing my hands on his chest as I did my best not to be distracted by his erection. It was so, umm, hard.

“You’re moving in with me then?”

I giggled. “What do you think?”

“I think we need to seal the deal with sex.”

“Constantijin!”

Lesson #8

Your billionaire may be an angel to others,

but do not be too sure he will be the same to you.

“Are you really sure this interior designer is not one of your billion of exes?” Three days later and I was waiting at a coffee shop near Kastein Inc., forcibly ejected out of my workplace by the CEO himself. Yesterday, he had taken me to the vacant pad next to his. He said it would be my “own” space, and I could do whatever I wanted with it. His only requirement: that I slept in his bed every night, even when I was pissed with him.

“There you go again, exaggerating.”

I could hear him smiling and I did my best not to smile back because I knew he’d sense it, too. But honestly, I wasn’t exaggerating. Lately, it seemed like he had bedded a woman for every dollar he had in his bank account.

Last week, I learned the receptionist at 25/F – who was best friends with the guy George was dating on and off – had been one of his innumerable one-night stands. Needless to say, she hated my guts.

The previous weekend, I was on my way back to Constantijin’s private box at the theater and someone “accidentally” threw a tart on my back. No pun seemed intended but whatever. However, tickets to that play cost several thousand dollars so seriously, what was wrong with these wealthy chicks that Constantijin dated?

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