by Marian Tee
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 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 in 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.
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.
"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 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 them 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 talk things through---"
"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 Alyx?
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, 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."
"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 gave up on 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 look 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 slammed the door shut and almost collapsed against it afterwards, trying to catch my breath because I suddenly felt like 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 in 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 into a slave driver 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 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 didn'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."
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 in time to see Constantijin swiftly leaving the cafeteria.
The woman he had bumped into stammered out an 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. 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 closing 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.
When I turned around, he was standing next to the windows, his back to me.
Another painful squeeze of the chest. I knew him so well now that this pose was familiar to me. Constantijin always used the scenery to hide his thoughts and feelings.
He asked, “You thought I was Alyx?”
"Yeah. She drops by often." To comfort me. But of course, I didn’t tell him that. What would be the point?
When I sat on one of the cushions, Constantijin walked back to the living area and sat across me.
I would have offered him drinks...if I had them. But grocery shopping was his forte, not mine. The reminder made my heart ache in a bittersweet fashion.
"Yanna," he suddenly said unevenly, "would you please come back?"
The words made me want to cry.
I touched my face.
Apparently, I already was.
“I heard you knew about what happened to my mom. And what happened to me.” His mouth twisted as if the memories alone already tasted bad.
“Constantijin---” He lifted his hand, and I fell silent.
“Let me finish. I’m sure you two think I’m fucked up because I don’t want to be like my father. And the funny thing was, I thought the same. Then you came and I was happy --- too happy. When you told me you love me, it sounded right. Too right. I panicked."
I could only shake my head back at him. “You p-panicked?”
Self-loathing crossed his face. “Stupid, isn’t it? But it’s true. I panicked. And in the end, I wasn’t like my father at all. I ended up…I ended up being like my mom.” Constantijin swallowed, and when he spoke, there was torment in his voice that I couldn’t ignore. “I pushed you away. The more you said you loved me, the happier and more scared I was, and the more I pushed you away.”
I started to cry, covering my face with my hands. I couldn’t bear looking at him anymore as he continued in a ragged voice, “I…subconsciously thought it was safer to push you away before I let you love me. And then you were the one to leave me first.”
I cried harder at the words because I already knew where this was leading, and it hurt. It goddamn hurt so much because it was too late.
“People see me as the billionaire---the playboy who could have any woman in the world, but I knew you were different. You saw through the fucking façade and when I thought of that, it made me a coward. Because if you take away the money, what was left? I know that fucking boy is more man that I am.” His voice broke as if it took everything in him to admit that. “Yanna, I know if you gave him the chance he wouldn’t hesitate to tell you he was in love with you. Like I did. Like how much---”
“No,” I whispered through my tears.
He ignored that. Of course he did because he was Constantijin Kastein, and he didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. He pulled my hands away from my face, and his voice felt too close as he said with painful intensity, “I love you. I’m in love with you. I’m so fucking sorry it took me so long to realize it but---”
“Don’t,” I choked out, finally looking at him. The brightness of his silvery gaze hurt, nearly blinding me, because it was promising and hoping for things that could have been mine, that could have been his – ours – but now it was impossible.
I swallowed several times, trying to get past the tears, as I said, “It’s too late.”
Constantijin froze.
Then he started talking, fast, desperately, his beautiful face taking on a determined look. “No. It’s not too late. I love you – that’s all that should matter. It should fix things---”
"No, it doesn't," I told him painfully. "Because I loved you and it didn't fix things, did it?"
Constantijin was pale. "Loved me?" he echoed hoarsely. "Wh-what do you mean?” It was the first time I heard him speaking with anything less than absolute confidence, and that hurt. God, why did this all hurt so bad?
“You don’t love me anymore?”
I could only stare at him, unable to say anything. A violent storm of emotions darkened his eyes, making me catch my breath. “Con---”
“You like him now? Is that it? He became your fucking Mr. Fix It for good?”
A gasp was torn out of me when I realized he knew
about that, too.
“No,” I sobbed the word out because the look of betrayal on Constantijin’s hard and beautiful face was too much.
"Then what? Tell me," he said almost furiously. "Yanna, please. I’m begging you.” His voice lowered to a choked whisper. “Show me how to fix things. I can be…I can be like him, too.”
“Constantijin, no---” I couldn’t bear hearing him speak as if he was nothing good. Because now, he was making me realize he wasn’t all that bad.
“Yanna, please.”
My hands went to my mouth.
“Make me your Mr. Fix It.”
Oh God.
Crying so hard I couldn’t see past the tears, I fumbled for his hands, squeezing them hard. “Don’t get me wrong, Constantijin. There is no one – no other man in my life. And don’t talk about yourself like you’re nobody.” The teasing smile I gave him wobbled on my lips as I said, “You’re the Netherlands’ #1 Playboy. One of the Three Pussketeers. Remember?”
Constantijin answered raggedly, “Then…choose me.”
“I can’t.” I struggled past the pain as I tried to make him understand. “What you did…I know you didn’t…” God, I wasn’t making sense at all.
“Yanna---”
I said in a rush, “Constantijin, you hurt me too much, and now I don’t know if I can ever risk going back and let you hurt me again.”
“But I won’t,” he argued brokenly. “I promise you, Yanna. I love you and it's for real. It won't change."
I slowly pulled my hands away. "I just need time, okay?" My shoulders lifted, expressing something I couldn't put into words. "Time and space, okay? But I'm not asking you to wait.”
The words sounded strange even to my ears. It made me imagine all those women – those millions of women who were so much more beautiful than I was, more forgiving than I was---all of them would have been more than happy to crawl into his bed to replace me.
More tears fell. I was so tired of crying, so tired of this---this long, dragged-out goodbye, but I just couldn’t stop. I said in a small voice, “I’ll understand if you think I’m so full of myself, thinking that someone like you would wait for someone like me---"