"Naturally, since you're a woman."
"Constantijin!
"Yanna!"
I had to smile at that. "But have a safe trip, okay?"
His face hardened all of a sudden. "You didn’t answer my question. Promise me you're not entertaining any other suitors."
Even three weeks into our courtship and Constantijin still had trouble trusting me. He never stopped asking about my “other” suitors --- even though he should by now I would always have the same answer for him.
“You know that’s none of your business.” And it wasn’t – not until he was ready to commit to something more permanent than being f**k buddies to each other.
“Just give me a f**king name, even a goddamn number---”
I lifted myself up so I could face him. “Constantijin, don’t.” I said it as gently as I could. He had to learn to trust me – the way I was struggling so hard to trust him despite what all the media stories were saying about him.
A flash of irritation crossed Constantijin's eyes. "Yanna."
“You know you don’t have any right to say that.” I did my best to keep my voice gentle. I hated fighting with him, but I had to stand my ground on this. He had a domineering personality, and I couldn't let him get away with everything.
His eyes shuttered. "Fine."
I was tempted to take it back but I didn't. "I’ll miss you.”
The words usually made him smile, but this time it only made him feel more distant.
And then before I knew it, he was gone.
Lesson #6
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,
But heaven hath nothing as gorgeous as a billionaire made jealous.
My weekend felt empty without a single call or message from Constantijin. It made my heart cry out in fear, but I did my best to suppress it. I kept asking Constantijin to have faith. Yet here I was, unable to trust him just because he could be too busy with work to do so.
Monday arrived, and I had never been so keen to go to work. But I was in for a surprise, with Glenda telling me gently that Constantijin had been delayed and would be staying in New York indefinitely.
The office wasn’t the same without him. Even food – my greatest comfort in life – wasn’t as comforting as it had been all these years. For the first time in my entire existence, even my favorite lasagna tasted like layers of recycled paper mixed with cheap cardboard.
I managed to resist Google-stalking him until Thursday. I had to know what was going on with him. Just one little peek, I promised to myself as my fingers expertly paved a secret pathway into his world.
In a few seconds, what I did and did not need to see stared back at me in painfully vivid colors.
Rows of photos of Constantijin attending different functions, looking dashingly debonair in his tuxes and suits, filled the page. And always present in his arm was the lovely Selena, elegant and beautiful in a similarly golden way, their blond heads melting together whenever they posed together for photos.
When I clicked the link on another tabloid coverage of the same events, I found a paparazzi photo of the two entering what was labeled as Selena’s hotel room – at three in the morning.
“You okay, Yanna?” George asked with a frown from his cubicle when he heard me let out a gasp of hurt.
Quickly closing the tab, I answered in a wobbly voice, “Yup.”
I didn’t cry at work, and for the first time in my life, I managed not to tell anyone about it. I couldn’t. It was too…
Oh God, I couldn’t even think of a word for it.
But when I reached my home that night, I quickly locked the door, pulled up the covers, and that’s when I let the tears fall, for the rest of the night.
~~~~
Glenda managed to corner me the next day even though I did my very best to avoid her. Constantijin had been calling and mailing me all day until I was forced to remove the battery of my phone and throw all of it inside my drawer. If I wasn’t so practical, I would have changed my number as well. But that was too impractical and I didn’t do impractical. I did stupid, silly, foolish but only because I had extremely bad taste in men.
“The boss is looking for you,” was all Glenda said as she practically manhandled me into Constantijin’s office. She was frighteningly strong for a woman her age.
Rubbing my wrists, I almost jumped in surprise when Constantijin’s hands settled on my shoulders, whispering as he turned me around to face him, “Miss me?”
For a moment, my heart twisted in all kinds of agony as I gazed at his beautiful face, his golden-copper-tinted hair gleaming even more brightly with the sun’s rays shining into Constantijin’s office. His blazer was hanging at the back of his chair, leaving him in his silk shirt, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
He looked the same yet different, too, like he was…like he was glad to see me but wasn’t sure if I would feel the same.
Smart of him.
I stepped back from his hold. Standing so close to Constantijin, I felt immeasurably small in my flats. If I had known he’d be coming back today, I would have worn heels instead. And – and I would have worn something jaw-droppingly sexy instead of a rather ordinary three-piece.
“You didn’t miss me then?” A quizzical smile appeared on his lips.
Lips that could have touched another woman’s lips, cheeks, body---
I almost lost my balance, the wave of pain crashing down on me a tangible weight.
“Are you all right?” He reached out for me.
I took another step back, my skin crawling at the thought of being touched by hands that could have touched another woman’s just the night before.
Unlike him, I wasn’t the type to beat around the bush so I just said baldly, “I saw you.” I took a deep breath. “I saw you online – a bunch of photos that showed you and Selena together and even one photo showed you entering her hotel room.”
Constantijin stilled, a blank mask falling over his gorgeous face. Then he said simply, "I see."
“What do you mean, you see?” I exploded, almost falling to my knees at the pain his words caused.
His hands went inside his pockets. "I didn't peg you to be the type to ascribe to double standards."
It took me several moments to understand his meaning. I whitened when I did. Basically, he was telling me that since I didn't promise fidelity while he was away, it meant that he wasn't obliged to do the same. Cultural differences may be at work here, but --- dammit, couldn't he have asked?
"It's not like that," I told him flatly.