by Marian Tee
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.
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 bittersweet fashion.
"Yanna," he suddenly said unevenly, "could 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 and I panicked."
I could only shake my head back at him. “You p-panicked?”
Self-loathing crossed over 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 scared I was, and the more I pushed you away.”
I started to cry, covering my face with my hands but 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 to, 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 was 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 pulle
d my hands away, 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 into a choked whisper. “Show me how to fix things. I can be…I can be like him, too.”
“Constantijin, no---” I couldn’t bear him to speaking 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 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 letting 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---"
“Oh God, no,” Constantijin groaned and then he was hauling me into his arms. And I let him take me onto his lap, let him wrap his arms around me so tightly they were like chains again---I let him do all those because, heaven help me, I missed this – I missed him – too much.
“Did I hurt you so much you started doubting your worth?”
Hearing him speak the truth – realizing that he still understood me too well – made me feel ashamed. I started to struggle, but all I managed to do was do what he wanted. He tipped my chin up, forcing me to look at him.
"I love you," he repeated harshly. "I was goddamn lucky to have you and I just wish I knew that before it was too late.”
Then he slowly let me go, lowering me to the couch as he twisted around to kneel in front of me.
I wiped the tears away and managed a smile. "Thanks for telling me that," I said quietly.
He smiled back, bitterly. "It's the least I could do, don't you think?"
“I think…I think you’d be wonderful for s-someone else---”
"No!" Constantijin's voice shook. "I'll wait. No matter how long it takes. I'll make you believe that I love you and deserve you."
"You don't have to---"
"If there’s even the smallest drop of love for me inside you, if you at least do not want me to fucking die…let me think I have a fucking reason to wait.”
Constantijin gazed at me, his eyes asking a question that even he couldn’t make himself ask.
And I could only gaze back at him, unable to give him an answer.
Constantijin laughed, and it wasn't a joyful sound. "I guess I better go then,” he said almost clumsily. A smile that didn’t reach his eyes twisted his lips as he came to his feet.
As I walked him to the door, Constantijin suddenly spun around, saying hoarsely, "Just please don't tell me it's too late, Yanna. Give me a chance, okay?"
I didn't want to lie to him. "Good night,” I said softly before closing the door.
Lesson #15
Your billionaire is not the only one who makes mistakes.
It was funny really, if I thought about how much I changed. Just a few months ago, if Constantijin had ever told me that he wanted me back, I would have forgiven him for anything. I would have been happy he had said those words, be fucking grateful for it even.
But now, Constantijin had said more than those words and it was no longer enough. Because now I was painfully sure of how much I loved him, of how much loving someone could hurt. And I just didn’t know any more how much I was willing to risk again for another shot at love.
December was upon us when my heart started mending, bit by bit. Life at the office was slowly getting back to normal, mostly because Constantijin was no longer a volcano that could explode any second. Nowadays, he was just…gone.
In the rare instances I saw Constantijin I couldn’t bear looking at him. There was just too much in his eyes for me to see. He was my Dutch playboy billionaire, and I loved him still. But it just didn’t feel enough now.
George’s arms stretched over his head after a particularly long day at work. It was only three in the afternoon, and yet it felt like we had been working for an eternity. With the year coming to an end, it was crunch time for Kastein Inc., and we had tons of contracts we needed to have signed, sealed, and delivered before everyone left for Christmas break.
“I need coffee,” George said. “Want one?”
I saved my file and got to my feet as well. “I want caffeine, too, but not the one from the vendo. We’ll give ourselves a treat this time and go for real coffee.”
“You just don’t want Mr. Fix It to rescue you again,” George teased as we stepped out of the office.
“Oh, but I’m always up to rescuing you,” a voice drawled from behind.
George and I froze. He lifted his shoulders in a helpless shrug as I glared daggers at him. Taking a deep breath, I turned around and smiled brightly at Drake. He still looked boyishly handsome, eyes twinkling in a familiar way. He had also been promoted this month, which technically made him my superior – in a distant way. “Good afternoon, Mr. Morrison.”
Drake rolled his eyes. “If you call me that one more time, you’ll regret it.”
I let out a fake gasp. “Are you actually threatening me? You, the guy who’s supposed to take care of me?”
But Drake only smiled as he fell into step beside me. “It’s still under caring for you – just in a di
fferent way than usual.”
Did he just…did Drake just promised something, umm, inappropriate?
When I saw his innocent smile, I wailed, “Drake!” even as George laughed.
Heads turned as we walked past people. Most of them were women, and I had no doubt they were probably gleefully thinking of ways to kill me for being lucky enough to be with two of the company's most handsome employees. The cafeteria was unusually full that afternoon, leaving us to crowd in one of those tiny booths at the end. I ended up squeezed between George and Drake.
When George left to buy coffee for the three of us, I had the urge to scoot away and place a few more inches between Drake and me – especially when he leaned close to me and said, “You look very beautiful today, Yanna.”
God! The way he was looking at me made me feel naked, like he could see through my lacy black dress. It had a high round neckline, long sleeves all the way to the wrists, and the skirt fell below the knees. Unfortunately, it was also skin-tight. Could that be the reason why Drake was acting more, err, aggressive than usual?
Clearing my throat, I said weakly, “You look good today, too.”
He laughed.
I glanced at him in confusion and caught on right away with the amusement in his eyes.
“Coffee’s here,” George trilled as he bent forward to place the tray on the table the same time I gasped in mock anger, hitting Drake’s arms. My elbow connected with one of the cups of steaming hot coffee.
The next thing I knew, Drake was hissing in pain as the burning hot liquid poured down on him, leaving a brown stain on his white polo.
"Oh my God, I’m so sorry!" Embarrassed, I quickly took a couple of napkins to prevent the stain from spreading further.
"Clumsy Yanna," George began to sing over and over.
I glared at him before returning to task. "I didn't mean it."
Drake gently pried my hand away. "It's okay," he said, smiling.
I started to smile back when I became aware of someone staring at me from a distance. It was Constantijin, and my heart squeezed painfully at the sight of him. Suddenly, I couldn’t pull my eyes away from him.
He looked even more beautiful than I let myself remember, dressed casually in a black polo and khakis, like he had come here from…a business meeting at the beach? I tried not to think about who could have been with him earlier because I had no right to wonder about those. It was the same reason why he shouldn’t be looking at me with bleak silver eyes.