Eternally Seduced (32 page)

“Yes,” I choked out because I did.

“I’m so glad, Yanna, so glad he’s so happy with you.”

All good things with your billionaire must come to an end.

“You don’t look okay, Yanna,” Constantijin shouted at me two weeks later, gazing at me in concern. He was seated at the head of the table and I was seated at the opposite end, a good twenty feet separating us because I had insisted that just for once we gave his larger-than-life dining table a try.

          “I’m okay.” I tried to shout back – I kind of had to because it was the only way to get heard. But my voice came out weak. As another wave of pain struck my belly, I bent slightly forward in an effort to keep it from hurting more.

          Constantijin was at my side the next moment. “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

Cold sweat bathed my skin and it took all my will to speak. "I just have to…rest.” Another wave of pain burst inside me and I almost pushed him away in my haste to leave the room.

“Where are you going?”

Ignoring his question, I went through the door that connected our suites and headed straight to the bedroom Marge and I had brainstormed to decorate but I never got to use.

Locking myself inside the bathroom, I quickly snatched one of the pads from cabinet over the sink and tore the package with shaky fingers.

Dysmenorrhea was such a bitch.

When I came out, I was surprised and unreasonably irritated to see Constantijin waiting inside my bedroom.

"I have my period," I told him shortly as I walked past him to switch the air-conditioning on. I crawled into bed and pulled the covers up, determinedly closing my eyes so he’d get the message and leave me alone.

This month’s cycle felt more painful than usual, and I wondered if it was because of all the, err, things Constantijin and I did in bed.

“Is there anything I can do?”

I opened my eyes to glare at him and snap, “Nothing.” It was that or cry. I hated everything about myself and I hated everything about him, too. It must be the hormones since Constantijin looked as gorgeous as he always was, even though he only had his sweat pants on and his flawlessly smooth and toned chest was completely bare.

“Just leave me alone,” I said before I turned my back on him. I wanted to cry and when I heard the door close softly behind him, I did cry. God, I hated dysmenorrhea.

The pain didn’t stop and I started half-beating my belly even though I knew it wasn’t a healthy thing to do. But I also knew by experience that it was the quickest way to numb the pain, and so I rhythmically hit my belly with my fist, focusing on the thumping sensation until my eyelids began to droop.

“Stop that.” Constantijin’s voice gradually penetrated my pain-hazed condition some time later. The bed dipped as he took my hands away.

Blinking groggily, I twisted halfway around just in time to see Constantijin get into the bed with me, still in his sweatpants and nothing else. I bit back a gasp of pain when he accidentally nudged against me.

He must have seen the expression on my face anyway since he said sorry quickly, almost shamefully.

“It’s…okay.” Those two words practically zapped the remaining energy I had left and my eyelids fell closed again.

Soothing hands came to rest on my shoulders and began kneading. It proceeded systematically down my back then going up again.

“I read online that massages are supposed to keep it from hurting.”

Tears pricked my eyes when I realized he had actually researched about what I was going through.

“Tell me where you want a massage."

Too weak and in pain to refuse anymore, I pointed to my belly and whispered, "It hurts there."

He started kneading gently.

Ah. Bliss.

Are you sure this is okay?"

"Don't stop or I'll kill you."

He laughed.

After a while, I tried to thank him drowsily. “Constantijin, I…”

"Sshh..just rest, okay?"

I couldn't help it anymore.

"I love you," I mumbled before going to sleep.

If I wasn't too weak, tired, and hurt, maybe I would have felt Constantijin stiffen all the way, his hands freezing for a millisecond. The air expelled from his mouth was strangled, as if the words had stopped him from breathing.

But pain had numbed my senses, and I didn’t notice any of it. Snuggling closer, I mumbled again, “I love you.”

Beware of how your billionaire does everything exquisitely,

even with the way he draws blood.

If the first two weeks of living with Constantijin had been bliss, everything else that followed was the complete opposite. And it took me a while, but I eventually realized that the changes started, like, all the way back to the day I had said it.

The day I had told him I loved him.

          I hadn’t taken the words back, though. I wasn’t the type to beat around the bush. I had said it. So I might as well stick with it. Besides, it wasn’t, like, I asked him to marry me or anything.

          And of course you should know by now if I started, like, talking this way it meant I was in a bad shape – worse than I ever thought possible.

Day Twenty-Nine

George was startled when he saw me fixing my stuff at exactly five in the afternoon. "You're going home already?"

          “Yup,” I said brightly. “Constantijin has, like, this really important and boring meeting so he says it’s better that I go home ahead.” I didn't want George to know how hurt I was about it.

In the past, Constantijin would actually
sulk
whenever I chose not to wait for him. But now, he couldn't, like, wait to push me out of the door.

"Oh." George seemed like he wanted to say something.

I went back to putting the rest of my stuff into my bag, trying to do it as quickly as I could. I didn’t want to give George a chance to succumb to the temptation of telling me what he felt he had to say.

          George cleared his throat. “So…how will you get home?”

          “The bus,” I replied cheerfully while avoiding his look. My eyes felt really itchy, and I had to clench my fists for a moment to keep myself from rubbing it. But honestly, it wasn’t, like, tears or anything. They were just really
itchy.

         
I mean, I had nothing to cry about. Just because Constantijin had suddenly turned all cold and aloof didn’t mean it was something to cry about!

          God, my eyes itched so badly!

          “You’re taking the bus?” George burst out. “But doesn’t Mr. Kastein have a driver--”

          I cut him off in a flat tone, saying, “He offered. I refused. It’s too much of a bother when the driver has to come back here afterwards.”

          George and I left together, and I ignored the way his glance kept darting towards Constantijin’s office as we passed by its door. I totally had no plans saying goodbye.

          Half an hour later and I was still waiting for the bus. I touched my eyes, and my fingers came away wet. It must be a really bad irritation because they were, like, itchy as hell.

          My phone rang and I answered it by the fifth ring, knowing Constantijin would just keep on calling if I didn’t answer.

"Where are you?" Constantijin snapped immediately.

"Bus station, where else?"

"You didn't even say goodbye," he accused.

I wanted to ask
why.
What was the point of saying goodbye when he always acted like
he
was the one itching to say goodbye to me? But I didn’t ask it. I was too scared of where that conversation would lead so I just mumbled, “Sorry. I was in a hurry to get home.”

“The driver---”

“It’s fine.”

There was this awkward pause before he said with audible reluctance, “I could drive you---”

God, my eyes itched so much they hurt.

Clearing my throat, I said again, “It’s fine. The bus should be here any minute now.” I quickly changed the subject. “Has your meeting started?”

“My…ah…in a while.” He was so obviously lying. “But it will end late so don’t wait up for me.”

My eyes started feeling itchy again. But because I was stupid and I just plain couldn’t help it, I whispered, "I love you."

"Right. Goodbye, Yanna."

The tears fell as he ended the call.

I loved him. Even after all this, I loved him. But I could also feel my love dying bit by bit as Constantijin did his best to kill it, with one hurtful word after another.

Day Thirty-One

“Do you guys even have sex still?” Of course Alyx was one who had to ask that.

          “Alyx,” Daria hissed from her side of the screen. Next to her, I saw Nik wince at Alyx’s question.

This video call was supposed to make me feel better, after all. But I really didn’t mind. These days, I was too tired to mind anything. “Yeah, we do. It’s the only time he wants me next to him.”

          But Alyx wasn’t done torturing me. “And you still sleep in the same bed?”

          “Sometimes,” I mumbled, blinking rapidly as I answered because my eyes were, like, really, really itchy.

          Daria’s tone was gentle when she asked, “Yanna, what if you tried
not
saying it?”

          I shook my head.

          “God, you’re still such an iron head,” Alyx burst out. It was a nickname that my dad came up with when I was sixteen and I had stubbornly stalked him on one of his golfing tournaments until he gave in and let me have surfing lessons. Since my friends had been tagging along behind me, the nickname sort of stuck.

          “I know.” My parents hadn’t wanted me to take surfing lessons because they knew how I tended to panic when I got in too deep. And they were right. I did panic and almost drowned on my first lesson. I sort of knew that would happen, but I wanted to give it a try anyway. I just wasn’t the type to back down without trying, and that was exactly how things were with Constantijin and me.

          Nik began, “You’re placing too much pressure---”

          “But it’s not supposed to be that way,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. “It’s not, like, bad for me to love him. I won’t stop saying it.”

          “Even if you know he doesn’t want to hear it?” Daria asked with a sad smile.

          Biting my lip to stop it from trembling, I said simply, “Even if he kicks me out of his life because of it.”

Day Thirty-Five

Constantijin was staring at me, his silvery eyes burning as he took in the deep V of the gown I had decided to wear for tonight’s fundraiser, which was also organized by his parents.

          I did a little twirl, just so he could appreciate that the black silky gown didn’t have any back either. I also hoped he’d notice my pretty hairstyle, which I spent a hundred dollars on. I didn’t do it to compete with the other women at the party, though. I just wanted to be pretty enough so that Constantijin would remember I still…existed.

          “That seems sexier than your usual,” he finally murmured, his eyes still on my breasts, which – right now – were worth staring at since just a quarter of them was left covered. Even though I felt like a total slut for wearing this gown, it felt good, too.

          I shrugged in answer. “Is it?”

          And that was that.

          The ride to the hotel was spent in silence, completely unlike how Constantijin and I used to talk – or make love – if we had even just a minute alone inside his limousine.

          Tonight was another occasion I would have to rub elbows with the rich and famous, but it wasn’t why my heart was racing in fear. In the weeks that Constantijin and I had been…okay…with each other, I had learned how to effectively navigate my way around these parties. All I had to do was stand next to Constantijin, smile, and pretend I didn’t notice the horrid looks and words that everyone was throwing at me behind my back. Eventually, you just didn’t notice them at all because you got so used to it.

          I smoothed nonexistent wrinkles on my gown, doing it to keep my hands from being restless. I was nervous because
this
was the first time we’d be out as a couple – and not feel like it. It was also the first time we’d meet his parents again after Marge decorated the apartment Constantijin had loaned out to me.

          We talked on the phone frequently, and every time we did I tried my very best to pretend I was fine – that her son and I were fine. But I wasn’t confident at all I could do the same face to face.         

          The driver parked directly in front of the hotel’s red carpet entrance, where behind the velvet ropes a throng of reporters and cameramen waited. Constantijin stepped out first and turned towards me, his hand outstretched.

          I couldn’t make myself take it, not when I knew he didn’t really want to touch me at all outside our bedroom.

          But --- pride cometh before a fall and the moment I stepped out of the limousine, I tripped on the hem of my gown. I would have fallen flat on my face if Constantijin hadn’t managed to catch me. He barely managed to actually, almost missing catching me.

          I fell on him, Constantijin bent halfway backwards, his head squashed between my breasts.

          Camera bulbs flashed, followed by shouts and catcalls.

          We quickly pulled away, Constantijin coughing while I turned red in embarrassment. Then our eyes met and suddenly we were laughing.

          I was so relieved at how everything felt incredibly right between us I wanted to cry.

          “Ah, Yanna. Now I’m beginning to see the benefits of those breasts.”

          “Shut up,” I hissed, but he only laughed harder as I felt my cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red at his words.

          Guiding my arm to curl around his, he slowly led us down the red carpet. “But it was fun, getting squished by your breasts. I could see the headlines. Constantijin Kastein’s Girlfriend is the Breast Squisher.”

          “Shut up or I’ll kill you!” I couldn’t help looking around to check if someone had heard him, or worse, if someone was already quoting him in a tweet.

          He stopped a few feet away from the hotel’s revolving doors. “I’ll promise to shut up about it---”

          “But?” I finally asked in exasperation, realizing that he wasn’t going to speak until I asked.

          “You have to kiss me first. Here. In front of everyone.” And as if that wasn’t enough, he added helpfully, “With tongue please.”

          I already wanted to die with embarrassment just by imagining what he was asking me to do. “I can’t,” I wailed.

"Constantijin! Yanna!" Marge’s voice reached us, and we already had a respectable distance between us by the time his mother joined us at the red carpet.

More flashes followed and Marge gamely posed for it, pulling us close to her on each side.

“Why, you look terribly red, Yanna,” Marge said when she decided the paparazzi had enough photos of us and turned to me with a smile.

“I’m…good.” God, I couldn’t even make myself look at her. I felt like she had just caught us making out.

“Are you sure?” She turned to Constantijin. “Darling, don’t you think---oh.”

My head jerked up in confusion at her tone and then I saw her staring with open-mouthed shock at Constantijin, whose beautifully fit pants suddenly appeared too tight for his body.