Courted (How Not To Be Seduced By Billionaires: Book 2) (7 page)

            “You are the one who doesn’t get it,” he said between clenched teeth. He was angry – really angry, and that made me more tired. “I told you that I am not to be played---”

            “And you
weren’t.
You were
never
…” I wheezed for air, the pain of what he was wordlessly admitting to choking me. “I didn't want to promise you I wouldn't entertain suitors because I didn't want you to know how much I liked you. Just that. But I never entertained any suitors. I didn't even date anyone or talk to any guy beside you. You can ask anyone here and it's the truth."

            Constantijin was pale by the time I finished, which I regretted honestly because even after what I did, it was never my intention to hurt him. I just – I just wanted him to know that it could have been really good between us.

            “So, if there’s nothing you can think of saying anymore---” An expected sob escaped, and when Constantijin looked stricken at the sound, I whirled around, unable to bear the look of pity on his face.

            To hell with this.

            I hurried out of the room as quick as my new mules could carry me. Walking straight into the rest room, I locked myself in the first available cubicle that I could reach.

            And then I cried again.

            I kept my phone dead the whole weekend and when I came to work Monday, Glenda was standing watch at my door. “The boss wants to see you so make up an excuse and then---”

            “Glenda,” I whispered.

            She stopped speaking, her eyebrows shooting up when she had a closer look of my face. Puffy eyes, red nose, trembling lips – that was how I looked when I stared at myself in the mirror this morning, and I doubted I looked any better now.

            “Glenda,
please
. It’s over between us.”

            She took another look at me before nodding, turning her back and walking away. The calls and texts came next, all of which I rejected and deleted. The flowers followed, and I donated them to the charity occupying an office in 7/F.

            On Thursday, Charli told me I had a call in her office. Thinking it was the client she had assigned to me earlier to negotiate with, I took it quickly, aiming to sound very professional as I said, “Good morning, this is Yanna Everleigh---”

            “Yanna.”

            It was him.

            “Don’t put the phone down.” His voice sounded raw, like he had wounded his throat from talking.

            Too much pillow talk talking with his dear lovely Selena, probably. The thought hardened me, giving me the strength to answer him with silence.

            “I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I was an idiot.”

            Never had I expected him to apologize, much less admit to being an idiot – which he had been. But it was too late. “It’s over,” I said, forcing my tone to stay flat and emotionless even though I had an exceptionally strong urge to bawl like a baby.

            He was always so unfair.

            He would make me fall, push me away, then he’d come back and make me fall for him again.

            “Please don’t bother me again,” I whispered before ending the call.

            Charli dealt me a speculative look when I put the phone down. “The, err, client wasn’t a good match?”

            She knew.

            I forced a smile. “He
terminated
me first.”

~~~~

Friday came again, this time with a major company event. It was the birthday of the Chairman of the Board, with everyone’s presence strictly required and the dress code formal. I would have given any excuse to skip it – strangely, the thought of seeing his parents
hurt.
But I couldn’t, not when Charli told me with such a proud smile how she had managed to convince the Board to make me the
host
instead of hiring a professional.

            I came to the event dressed to kill. The Grecian style of my amethyst-toned gown added the illusion of a more generous cleavage to my slimmer curves while my silver heels lent me a few extra inches. The added height was necessary. I wanted to be sure the microphone stand wouldn’t end up taller than me. Been there, done that, never wanted to feel like a midget on stage again.

            George helped with my hair, which he had tied halfway up while leaving the rest to curl around my shoulders. He even gave me a hand with my makeup, managing to make my eyes look large and luminous with a dark eyeliner and dramatic eye shadow.

            “You look smashing,” George enthused as we walked hand in hand into the hotel ballroom reserved for Kastein Inc.’s private function.

            “Totally,” I agreed airily even though inside I still felt a thousand years older and a hundred times uglier than the worst-looking troll. Heartbreak and I – we
were
never good companions for each other.

            “No, seriously,” George insisted. “Look at your right.”

            When I did so, absently, a group of men from Finance whistled in appreciation, their stares bordering on lecherous.

            I blushed.

            “See?”

            “It’s your makeup,” I said finally.

            He shook his head. “No, hun. It’s you.” Then he patted my bottom, making me giggle. “Now, break a leg.” He pushed me towards the side steps leading to the stage.

            I had only taken a few steps when I lost my footing, most likely out of sheer nervousness, and would have fallen flat on my face if a pair of arms hadn’t caught me.

            Heart beating madly, I looked up.

            Oh.

            It wasn’t Constantijin.

            It was Mr. Fix It.

            He helped me up slowly and I tried not to notice how his hands held my waist just a little bit longer than he should. “Third time now, Yanna,” he said with a grin.

            Now that I was back in my feet, I could properly appreciate his looks, and I had to admit that he brushed up quite nicely in formal attire. White tuxes were hard to carry for most men, but on Drake – he simply looked like an angel with a naughty sense of humor.

            Especially with the way he was looking at me.

            Blushing, I stammered, “I know. I’m so sorry.”

            Drake laughed. “I was just kidding, Yanna. I have no complaints about being your knight in shining armor anytime.” He hesitated then, his voice lowering a notch, “You look utterly desirable.”

            “Umm, thanks. Y-you look good tonight, too.”

            “Only for tonight?”

            I was horrified. “I didn’t mean---” Then I saw the laughter in his gaze and groaned. “You’re mean!”

            “And I just wanted you to laugh because I think you’re nervous for no reason.” He gave me a megawatt smile that I was very sure would make my heart skip a beat if it wasn’t still in the emergency room, receiving treatment for post-traumatic shock, thanks to overexposure to unfaithful Dutch playboy billionaires.

            Drake bent close, I reared back, but it was too late.

            He pressed a kiss on my forehead.

            When he pulled away, I was gaping.

            “Your good luck kiss,” he said with a wink before walking away.

            More than a little confused, I absently touched my forehead as I climbed the stage, wondering if maybe – maybe I had been right all this time. Maybe Drake was the one for me and Constantijin Kastein was just the Devil’s best attempt to seduce me from my happily-ever-after romance.

            The limelight swung immediately toward me as I reached the middle of the stage. I automatically beamed at the crowd. “Welcome to the 60
^th
birthday of our beloved Chairman of the board, Mrs. Margaret Kastein. On behalf of the Kastein family, I would like to thank you all for coming.”

            Although I had my script in hand, I barely glanced at it, knowing I was better off improvising and keeping eye contact with my audience. I had never been a limelight-hogger, but that didn’t mean I sucked at stage presentations – or, in this case, hosting jobs. Most times, I was actually good at it since my public speaking skills had been honed at an early age, with both my parents constantly volunteering me to act as host for every company party they threw.

            Later, I was hosting a game that had Arian as one of the contestants. She, too, looked smashing – especially with her headlights fully on. The moment I saw Arian’s nipple alert, I immediately searched for George in the crowd. Our eyes met – and then we were grinning.

            You had to hand it to Arian, really. It always took guts to show up like that on stage and just so she could seduce Constan---I mean, our CEO. I
had
to start thinking of him impersonally now.

            Two hours later, and I dished out my last speech for the night, declaring the end of the “official” event, which meant the time to dance and go wild would now officially begin.

            “Thank you!” I blew them a goodbye kiss, and the crowd went wild, with one guy from Marketing actually letting out a loud whoop as he jumped high, pretending to catch my air kiss.

            Laughter and applause still rang clearly in the background as I went down the stage. George was waiting for me, grinning, and we exchanged hugs.

            “My hands are still shaking,” I confessed.

            George rolled his eyes. “You were fantastic there!”

            We looked at each other and then we started jumping like crazy. God! That had been hard, hosting a party for a Fortune 500 corporation and with over a thousand employees from all levels attending.

            “
Ahem
.”

            Still clasping each other’s hands, we turned toward the sound.

            Oh my God, it was Constantijin with his
mother
.

            George and I quickly released each other, faces flaming.

"My mother wanted to congratulate the host for a job well done," Constantijin said, his eyes on me while my eyes were on – anywhere but him. Even so, I couldn’t help stealing a peek at his looks.

            Bad mistake.

            He was, like, too hot to be true.