by Marian Tee
Déjà vu struck me for the second time, and I almost shivered because of it.
Constantijin was still nowhere to be found when I finally walked out of the doors of Kastein, Inc. My phone rang just as I reached the other side of the street.
“Hello?”
“Did you miss me, Yanna?”
Holy...
It was him.
Constantijin.
The whole world disappeared the moment I realized who I was talking to. People were constantly walking before me, drivers honking their horns, and there was even a construction crew a few feet away drilling into the cement, doing God knew what. But none of their noise reached my ears.
“Yanna?”
I still didn’t know what to say so I stayed silent, secretly content to replay the sound of his voice over and over, especially the part where he said my name with that accented voice of his.
“I think about you all the time, schat.”
What did that last word mean? I was so, like, Googling that after this.
When I still didn’t answer, his tone turned from seductive to serious as he asked, “Why did you run away?”
Why didn’t you run after me?
But I couldn’t ask him that, could I? It would have been akin to, like, begging him to come after me. I said finally, in a stiff voice that required all my acting skills to pull off, “I don’t think we should be talking like this anymore. I’ll be working for you starting tomorrow. It would be inappropriate.”
A long pause followed, one that made me anxious and tense even though I didn’t want to be. I should hang up now. I knew that, but I couldn’t.
“That’s impossible.”
I inhaled sharply at the words, conscious of the zing of relief that went through me and shamed by it. Oh God, I was so pathetic. Sometimes, I was too stubborn for my own good. Constantijin Kastein was bad news. How many times did I have to repeat to myself that anything that had to do with the Netherland’s #1 Playboy was surely going to end not just with a broken hymen but a broken heart as well?
My fingers tightened around my mobile phone. “I’m hanging up after this, Mr. Kastein. Please just---”
“I want to fuck you too much to stay away.”
Holy. Shit.
I glared at my phone, wishing it was a blond gorgeous giant I was glaring at instead. With just those few words, he had ruined whatever composure I had. Now, all I could think about was how he had me on the table, devouring my breasts, his erection jutting hard against my core, and me right now, soaking wet in the middle of a public street.
“Stop saying things like that,” I said weakly. Lame response, I know, but right now? That was, like, the best I could dish out.
“Why not?” The purr in his voice made me tremble, something I was sure would have people looking at me oddly if they noticed. It was still early in the day, with the sun sending golden rays all over the place, and yet here I was shivering with desire.
“We just can’t. It’s not…we can’t, okay?”
He chuckled, and the sound sent deliciously erotic shivers down my spine. It was almost as if I could feel his fingers trailing down my back, promising me pleasure a hundred times more intense if I finally let him take me.
“Yanna, we are already doing it, whether you admit it or not. And tomorrow, when you get to work, we’ll be doing a lot more than this.”
Lesson #4
Don’t ask to be friends with your billionaire.
He’ll think you’re after the benefits, not the friendship.
In theory, the first day of work should have been like the first day of school. You had to feel your way around, meet new friends and frenemies, and figure out what you had to do to not be an outcast. But the thing was, I had never experienced first-day trouble, mostly because I tended to skip it altogether. By the time I did show up for school, Alyx and Daria had already smoothed things over for me. They were cool, ergo I was cool by association.
But obviously, that wasn’t an option I had at work.
I took a shower early and chose a perfectly modest outfit for my first day – black blouse, matching slacks, and low-heeled pumps. My minis would be on hiatus until further notice.
Megan and Charli were already at work when I got to Kastein, Inc., making me vow to myself that I was not going to let my alarm snooze thrice starting tomorrow. Hopefully, double snoozes would be enough to have me arriving at work earlier than my superior.
When I got to the office Charli had directed me to, I saw the two other marketing executives she had told me about. My heart sank. One of them was Bottle Blonde. She had on a collared blouse as well, but unbuttoned way, way down to reveal more than an eyeful of her Ds. Next to her, I felt like I had breasts the size of eggs. Robin eggs, even. Her skirt was way longer than mine, but they had mid-thigh slits at each side, and her legs looked endlessly long with her fuck-me stilettos.
Immediately, I thought of Bottle Blonde coming up to Constantijin in her get-up and my heart constricted.
The last one to make up our threesome was George, a gay Ivy League graduate who seemed to have a fondness for dorky-looking glasses and checkered shirts. I had noticed him in the interview, and he had the same combination on.
George and I smiled at each other. In an instant, I knew we were going to get along fine. Bottle Blonde and I sized each other up unsmilingly. Just as quickly, I knew we were going to be bitter frenemies for life.
The office we were given had light purple walls, a color that was very much easy on the eye. One side of the room was made of pure glass, providing us with a breathtaking cityscape view. The left side of the room, next to the door which joined our office to Charli’s, was lined with three cubicles. Each cubicle had a table, chair, and a waist-high file cabinet. Displaying immense diplomacy, George opted for the middle table to keep Bottle Blonde – or rather Arian – and me apart. On the opposite side of the room was a huge worktable, which I assumed where we’d be doing our work as a team.
I looked forward to it. Not.
When I got to my cubicle, I found a Post-It note stuck on my LCD screen from Charli, asking us to review the latest projects of Kastein Entertainment.
Around 10 in the morning, Charli dropped by to check on our progress. By then, it became clear to all of us that we represented different categories. I was given the YA and romantic comedies, George was there for the fighting series like Naruto and Pokemon as well as yaoi. Yaoi or shounen-ai was an umbrella term for M/M stories. Apparently, Kastein wanted to capitalize on the Brokeback craze. As for Arian, she represented the adult chick lit genre, focusing on manga and Asian works that were along the lines of Bridget Jones’ Diary and Erin Brockovich.
My greatest fear about the job was not being able to contribute, but as the day progressed, I gradually – happily – realized that this job was really meant for me. With my fluency in Japanese and Mandarin, I was able to obtain more information about the various series I could recommend to the company. I wasn’t restricted to English translated sites but instead could dig deeper into the blogs of both mangaka and their readers.
I was so engrossed with what I was doing that I hadn’t noticed lunchtime had come and gone. By the time my stomach let out a loud growling protest that had Arian glaring at me and George chuckling, it was already three in the afternoon.
Big mistake, I could hear the ever-practical Alyx tutting in my head. Never show your boss you’re having so much fun at work that you’re willing to skip lunch. They’ll come to expect it from you all the time after.
“Could you tell Charli I went out for a quick lunch?” I asked George as I grabbed my purse from the table.
George nodded, eyes glued on the screen. He seemed just as engrossed as I was with his own work. “I’ll text you if she needs something urgent.”
“Thanks,” I said over my shoulder, already on my way out.
Arian and I did not look at each other as I left.
Yup, bitter frenemies it really was.
Employees of Kastein, Inc. had access to a private cafeteria in 30/F, which looked more like a hotel lobby holding a gourmet food fair. The staff was dressed – you guessed it – entirely in black. One section of the cafeteria had cozy crescent-shaped booths while the rest had matching sets of steel-legged tables and chairs accessorized with the finest tablecloths and cushions, both also in black.
All of us had daily meal allowances. How much you could spend depended on your job level. Right now, I had $10 to spend each day. Anything I incurred over that, I had to pay out of pocket.
To take your one-hour lunch break, you need to clock out. Most people already had by the time the machine scanned my fingerprints. Overhead, a huge board showed a list of the initials of every employee working for Kastein, Inc. The light next to my initials blinked blue, which meant I was on a break. It would turn green once I clocked back in or red if I didn’t show up for work.
My eyes strayed unconsciously to the top of the board, where Constantijin’s own initials were also on display.
Blue.
There went my heart, racing all the way to the finish line of utter emotional stupidity and winning first place.
The cafeteria was nearly deserted when I went through the swinging doors. One table at the corner was occupied by giggling interns as they repeatedly looked over their shoulders.
Their subject of interest?
He had his back to me, but the exquisite color of his hair was easily recognizable. I quickly turned around and walked to the Italian station, my heart torn between wishing he’d see me and wishing he wouldn’t.
I asked for spaghetti with meatballs and iced cappuccino, waited patiently for my order because I was too busy trying not to think about Constantijin, and afterwards chose a table next to the windows, far from the giggling girls.
As I took a sip of my coffee, I took a very surreptitious glance at where Constantijin was sitting.
He wasn’t there.
Disappointment made my shoulders droop and I took comfort in twirling a nice amount of spaghetti with my fork and feeding myself. Soon enough, the delightful taste made me temporarily forget about Dutch playboys and mini-orgasms. I closed my eyes, savoring the wonderful texture and spicy taste of my meatballs.
When I opened my eyes, Constantijin was seated across me, a familiar wicked grin playing on his lips, a glass of water in one hand. He was dressed in another pinstriped suit, charcoal gray this time, and one that also defined the broadness of his shoulders. His pale blue shirt underneath was partially unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of his chest – the very same chest I was able to---
Aghast at where my thoughts were heading, I hissed, “You shouldn’t be here!” Then I remembered where we were and who I was talking to and I added reluctantly, “sir.”
He laughed when he saw me looking around nervously. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want anyone to know – see – that I was talking to him, much less sharing a table with him. It smacked of inappropriateness, the kind that could either get me fired or talked about in sly and hushed tones. Luckily – or unluckily, I couldn’t really decide at the moment – no one was around and even the giggling interns were nowhere in sight.
Settling his glass down on the table, he said, “You certainly took your time coming here.”
My eyes widened. He had been waiting for me?
When I didn’t answer, a wry crooked grin touched his lips. “Do you do that deliberately?”
Frowning in confusion, I asked, “Do what?”
“Drive me crazy with your silence. You don’t talk when most women would and you talk when I expect you not to.”
When I didn’t say anything, he sighed, “And you’re doing it again.”
Biting my lip, I confessed, “I’m not doing it deliberately. I just don’t know what to say when I’m around you.” It was true. I liked talking – a lot. But when Constantijin was around, I couldn’t help getting tongue-tied, couldn’t help being on my guard either because with just that first time we had met, he had so easily shown me how utterly weak my body was in his presence.
He leaned close, so suddenly I almost jumped in my seat like a frightened rabbit. “What?” I asked almost defensively.
“Why did you run?”
I blurted out, “Why didn’t you run after me?” As soon as the words were out, I cursed myself nonstop. Shit. Idiot. Dummy. Why did I have to give myself away like that?
Incredulity shone in Constantijin’s eyes, and I gazed back at him challengingly, warily. I tensed when he started to speak.
“Because I don’t.” His answer shouldn’t have surprised me but it did, his voice implacably hard when he spoke those three little words.
“I want you, Yanna.”
Still more than a little hurt at his rejection – because that was how it felt to me – I said stiffly, “Well, you can’t have me.”
His voice became seductive. “You and I both know that’s a lie. But I don’t want to force you. I want you to come to me willingly and I’ll do whatever---”
Unable to bear hearing more because I knew they were all true, I cut him off desperately. “Constantijin---”
“I love it when you say my name,” he breathed.
I love it when you say mine, too, I thought sadly. Too much so, and that was the problem.
I gazed at him, this time not bothering to hide the plea in my eyes. “I’m not in your league, Constantijin. I don’t do one-night stands. I don’t do affairs. I’m just…not like you,” I ended helplessly.
“I know what you’re saying, schat,” he answered, and the way his eyes burned through me made me swallow. Oh God. His eyes told me that right now he was hard – had been from the start. For me.
Moisture formed between my legs in response.
Triumph blazed from his eyes. “But it’s too late. The moment you walked into my office, with your pink suit and sunny smile – the way you talked to me without flirting, the way you entranced every man in the room without even being aware of it---”
His words made my body so heavy with desire I couldn’t breathe. He was painting a woman I didn’t recognize and yet the way he was staring at me so intensely told me I was her.
“I want to be inside you very badly, Yanna, and I will have you.”
I wanted to look away but couldn’t. His gaze had once again enslaved me, and it was all I could do not to lean toward him and beg for his touch. In a last-ditch effort to save myself, I said shakily, “Can’t we just be friends?”
Without warning, I found myself being yanked forward from underneath the table, and I let out a soft gasp of shock as I felt his hand go under my skirt.
I stiffened.
“Sssh, darling, or people will know,” he whispered.
I tried inching away but he retaliated by cupping my throbbing core, his hand large enough to brand every inch with his touch. “If you keep moving, I’ll tear your---”
“I won’t move!” I half-gasped the words out even as I glared at him.
But this only made his grin widen.
Then I felt his fingers going under the lacy fabric and my back shot up even straighter. “No, Con---” I bit back a moan when his fingers drew a straight line against my flesh, parallel to its folds, before he pressed his thumb ever so softly against the tiny nub of flesh that even I had never touched myself.
“Do you want me to make you come?” His teasing words were accompanied by movement from his fingers, its tips darting in and out of me but never really going inside.
Driven crazy by need, I actually found myself inching forward as if by doing so I could trap his fingers inside me. Oh God, what was happening to me? Constantijin Kastein was a stranger by almost all accounts. Yet here I was, craving his touch like it was an addiction I couldn’t live without.
“Yanna.”
“Yes,” I whimpered.
“You have to promise to keep quiet, though.”
I nodded, unable to say anything more because his fingers were moving again, going up and
down against my sheath.
“Are you ready?”
“Ye---” My mouth parted in a silent scream of agonized pleasure because Constantijin had again taken me by surprise, sliding his finger in and out in a rhythm that made a huge shudder go through my body.
“Quiet, schat.”
I nodded, gripping the tablecloth desperately with one hand as I did my best to prevent my body from meeting the thrusts of his fingers. I was so wet and crazy with desire for him that even this very first penetration of my body didn’t hurt. If anything, it just left me wanting for more and more.
“Do you want it faster?”
I nodded and closed my eyes when his fingers thrust in and out with increased speed, making me catch my breath.
“Harder?”
I nodded again, not wanting to speak. I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, I’d end up moaning my pleasure instead.
His fingers fucked me harder and faster this time, and I nearly buckled in my seat when a second finger penetrated me. Oh, oh---a third finger? This was too much.
“Yanna.” His voice was thick with desire now, almost guttura.
I had to force myself to open my eyes.
“I want you to come now.”
My breath hitched.
“I want you to come by impaling yourself with my fingers – get it as deep as you can inside you. All right, sweetheart?”
I could only gaze at him in muted desire.
“Say yes,” he gritted out.
“Yes.”
“Then do it now.” And almost as if we had rehearsed this a thousand times, he shoved his fingers in just as I lifted my hips to meet his thrust. I bit my lip hard as I convulsed around him, aware of the wetness trickling down to my upper thighs.
Dizzy with pleasure, I watched Constantijin take a handkerchief from his pocket and dip it in water. After a moment, I felt the cold touch of the fabric on my thighs. My legs parted on their own as Constantijin efficiently cleaned me under the table while his other hand drummed a lazy beat on top of it, his golden gaze burning bright with satisfaction.