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 f**king 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 f**king 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.
He smiled, and then he gave me another surprise when he murmured, “It's nice to see you smile again.”
Biting my lip, I changed the subject again since my eyes had started to itch. "I've been meaning to ask you. Whatever was it that you told Arian to make her leave that day?"
Drake appeared embarrassed, which intrigued me even more.
"Is it that bad?"
He shrugged, discomfort written all over his face.
"Can't you give me a clue?" I teased.
Drake cleared his throat. "Let's just say someone overheard her offering me something I didn't want." He paused. "And she wouldn't want everyone to know about it."
My lips parted in shock. Did he mean...? Glancing at Drake's unreadable face, I gulped. Oh, he really did mean it like that. And he had refused. The thought was bittersweet and I said without thinking, "I wish Constantijin was like you, too."
Drake said in a low whisper, "Why want someone who could be like me when I can be yours?"
“Drake.” I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry at the familiar gleam in his eyes, now burning more intensely.
We heard a crashing sound and both of us turned just to see Constantijin swiftly leaving the cafeteria.
The woman he had bumped into stammered out her apology, her gaze darting between Constantijin’s retreating back and the shattered pieces of glass on the floor.
My chest felt funny, but I ignored it.
Too late.
Just too late.
The words were my anchor. I clung to them every time I even considered thinking of Constantijin, using the words to drive even the smallest thoughts of him away. When my doorbell rang that night, I went to open it with a sigh, knowing it was probably one of the three – George, Alyx, or even Daria, who was finally back from her honeymoon – checking up on me to be sure I hadn’t committed suicide out of sheer heartbreak.
“Alyx, how many times---"
It was Constantijin, looking too sexy and gorgeous for my own good in a shirt and jeans. And then he took out a bouquet of flowers from behind his back.
I blinked. The flowers were...close to wilting.
Seeing the question in my eyes, Constantijin's lips briefly curved into a smile. "I picked them from the garden at the back. I didn't want to risk you giving them back."
I took it with shaky hands, clearing my throat as I said lamely, “Thanks.”
Constantijin exhaled. “May I come in?”
I nodded without a word, stepping to the side so he could walk past me. Technically, this apartment was still his, and it didn’t feel right not to let him into his own property.
I spent more time than necessary to close the door and even took the trouble of quadruple-locking it. I needed the time to make sure that I didn’t break down, which I was tempted to do at the sight – the familiar scent – of him.