How Not To Be Seduced By Billionaires (Books 1-3)
How (Not) To Be Seduced By Billionaires
By: Marian Tee
Copyright © 2013 BlueRibbonBooks.com
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
BOOK 1: CHASED
Lesson #1
‘Holy shit’ are not the best words to say
when you see how gorgeous your billionaire is for the first time.
He will want to fuck you after that.
“Oh God, I’m going to be, like, super late.”
I threw Alyx a look of horror before returning my gaze to the digital display of the elevator, wishing there was a way I could have it speed up. If I ever survived today’s job interview alive, I must remember to write to the CEO of Ferrari. He should know that people who were pathologically late like me needed his help. He just had to create a sports car version for elevators.
“Stop panicking.” Alyx rolled her eyes as she spoke. She sort of did it all the time, actually, making you unable to figure out when she was being sincere or sarcastic.
Alyx continued, “Any company would love to have you, Yanna.”
Like now.
“Shut up. I know you’re lying.”
“I’m not.” Her voice still had that eye-roll-tone so I couldn’t quite make up my mind if she really did mean it. We had been friends since our kindergarten days, but this one just plain eluded me all these years. I had long decided that this quirk of Alyx was truly something only her own Mr. Right could figure out. I told her as much but Alyx had just laughed and called me a “romantic”. Personally, I thought what she really wanted to say went along the lines of naïve, foolish, and hopeless.
“You just have to show them what you’ve got.”
Now that one sounded semi-sincere so I unhesitatingly asked, “What do I have?” I sniffed for effect, just so Alyx would take pity on me and dwell more on my good points than bad.
Alyx pursed her lips, and when she did that she looked more like a schoolteacher, thanks to her nerdy glasses and buttoned-up blouse – okay, make that a schoolteacher in mini.
We loved our minis, Alyx and I.
She eyed me head to toe, lingering on how I twisted my hair into a prim-preppy chignon, the modest neckline of my blouse, and my skirt, which ended two inches over the knee.
I was sort of thinking she’d say something nice after that, but what she came up with was, “Well, you may be older than most entry-level applicants---”
I winced. “Twenty-four is NOT old.”
“But if you tell them it’s because you had to take care of your ailing parents first, I’m sure they’ll understand.”
Seeing the serious expression on her face, I protested, “I can’t say those things! That’s, like, lying.” And yes, I was indeed 24 years old with a tendency to abuse the word ‘like’. It was my own version of nail-biting – verbally regressing to a teenager from the 1990’s whenever I was anxious or terrified. The word ‘panicky’ described me perfectly to a T, which was why Alyx felt the need to accompany me all the way up to 34/F, where my future would later hang in the balance.
Alyx didn’t seem to hear me. “Also, you just need to let them know that you speak scores of languages and an honor’s certificate from your college.”
“Three languages are not scores.”
Alyx didn’t seem to hear that either. As the elevator’s doors silently slid open at my floor, she simply gave me a thumbs-up and said, “Trust me. Anyone with half a brain is going to want to hire you.”
Not if you’re late by twenty and you’re absolutely unprepared for your first ever job interview, I thought a few minutes later as I pushed the heavily tinted glass doors open and found more than a dozen pair of eyes gazing at me.
“Sorry, sorry,” I mumbled red-faced as I force-squeezed my way behind the row of seats on the left side of the table. It was the only way to get to the other side of the room. The entire left row of seats was fully occupied, and their wheels squeaked as the other applicants pushed their chairs further in so I could pass.
“Ditz,” the bottle blonde in a severe black suit not-so-softly sneered as I walked past her. Since I was wearing my favorite pink suit and everyone here seemed dress for mourning (why did I not get the memo that black was back as the new black?), I told myself I’d let just that one go.
Only one chair from the opposite row of tables was taken, occupied by a man wearing a pinstriped suit and studying a sheaf of papers he held in one hand. Even seated as he was, he exuded an authoritative aura that made me gulp. If this man was going after the same job I was applying for, I might as well give up now.
Taking the seat next to him, I quickly sat my bag on the chair on my other side as I hurriedly hand-combed my shoulder-length brown hair, which was still half wet from my shower.
People from the opposite row were staring at me oddly. I could feel their gazes on me, and most of them weren’t friendly either. My heart sank even as I tossed a grateful glance at the unoccupied seat at the head of the table. Obviously, whoever it was Kastein Inc. had assigned to interview us was also late – but what if the other applicants were planning to tell on me once the interviewer arrived?
Sensing the man next to me turning to my direction and not getting any unfriendly and competitive vibes from him, I silently breathed a sigh of relief at the thought of having at least one person in the room not antagonistic toward me.
Friendly smile in place, I said, “Hel—oly shit.”
Bottle Blonde gasped.
I cringed at the sound. That was what I should have done. Gasped. But then – who could blame me, really? Anyone would have been completely shocked at seeing someone so incredibly beautiful in person. Men were not supposed to be beautiful, dammit. But this one was.
His sun-kissed hair seemed to have all the shades between dark gold to copper – his natural hair color, in other words. It was impossible for any artificial hair dye to create his kind of hair, which was also naturally curly. Those adorable curls would have made him look gay if not for his strong jaw. His eyes were the lightest shade of gray, almost silver – and they were laughing at me, with his sexy-looking lips curved in a slight, amused grin.
My heart sank the second time in minutes at the sight of it. Great. Way to make an impression on a potential rival in the workforce: let him know he’s turned your head around completely.
Desperate to make him forget my embarrassing gaffe, I asked quickly, “Are you applying for the marketing research position, too?”
He raised a brow, making me wonder what I had said wrong. His sexy secretive grin still playing on his lips, he said simply, “No.”
We stared at each other after that. I didn’t want to – I swear I didn’t – but somehow his gaze was commanding and magnetic, and I felt like I wouldn’t be able to pull my gaze away unless he let me. And really, I knew how ridiculous that sounded – especially where I was concerned.
My parents had even nicknamed me “Little Miss Granite” because I was stubborn as a rock. Even as a kid, I had a tendency to be headstrong when there was something I wanted.
I had never been a pushover, and yet here I was - a slave to a stranger’s gaze. I was scared that if this man told me to bend over, I’d ask if he wanted me to take off my undies first or let him do the honors.
It was a freak-out-worthy thought, considering that I had never thought of sex in such grap
hic terms. In fact, the only sex scene I had ever watched in my life was the one in Breaking Dawn and the only hardcore part in it was when Edward broke his bed’s headboard into pieces. And all the time, I had kept thinking, if his hands could do that, what about his…well…you know? Was that even a good thing?
“You’re late, you know.” The European accent of his voice made my toes curl. Even so, one part of me was dismayed at his words – did he really have to say that out loud? But the other part of me was just plain relieved he spoke. It somehow gave me the strength to look away, and I did so quickly, training my eyes on his necktie, which was a lovely silky shade of red. Again, it was the kind that should have made him look extremely gay. But no, it did not. It just made him more mouthwateringly sexy.
Still not looking at him, I mumbled, “I miscalculated the traffic on the way here.”
“Ah,” he said.
I mentally groaned at the sound. It was very, very sexy, too. Everything about this man was just plain sexy, and it was extremely terrifying. You see, I was what you’d call a sexual prude. My parents had the most amazing love story ever, and because of it they sort of drummed into me since I was old enough to enjoy bedtime stories that I was destined for an amazingly romantic adventure of my own. Of course, by the time I got to high school, those bedtime stories had turned into the most horrible of warnings.
Walter and Carole would constantly warn me of how a man’s, umm, member could end up literally tearing your hymen apart and send you to E.R. if you weren’t made ‘ready’ by true love. Since Walter was a top-rated surgeon and Carole his nurse for twenty years, you could just imagine how believable their horror stories had sounded during my younger years. Of course, I knew better now, but old fears were pretty hard to kill, especially if you’d been listening to them since you had your first period.
Feeling like I had to say something or Mr. Too-Sexy-To-Be-True would know how much he was affecting me, I added lamely, “I didn’t mean to be late.”
“I know,” he said so nicely it made me look at him. I inhaled sharply when I saw how he was looking at me, the way his eyes took its time to linger on my lips. It was like he wanted me to know he was driving himself crazy wondering how my lips tasted.
I bit my lip.
His nostrils flared.
I hurriedly released my lip, realizing he might have thought I was being deliberately provocative. I swung my seat back in, staring determinedly at the wall across me. I had a hard time believing I just had some sort of eye-sex with a near total stranger. A really mind-blowingly hot one but – still a stranger.
Who was still staring at me.
I gripped my armrests tightly, using it to anchor me in place and not turn towards him like his eyes were demanding me to.
A soft chuckle then I heard the cushion of his seat squeaking a little as he turned to face the others.
“Now that we’re all complete, we can start the interview.”
At his words, I had swung my seat back to face him in a second. I gaped at him. Had I heard him correctly?
Mr. Too-Sexy-To-Be-True glanced at me, his grin no longer secretive but wicked this time. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to officially welcome you to Kastein Inc. Thank you for your interest in joining my company. I’m delighted to see you all here.” He all but purred the last pronoun out, with a swift glance at my lips under his lashes as he spoke.
It had the most incredible impact on my body, and I could only silently gasp in horror as I felt my nipples coming to life until they were poking against the thick silk of my shirt.
I hurriedly grabbed my bag and placed it in front of me, but one glance at the knowing gleam in the man’s eyes told me I was too late.
Maybe – maybe I was too late all along and just one look at me and he knew he could have me. Anywhere, anytime, any---oh God, what the hell was I thinking?
“You’re Yanna Everleigh?” He didn’t wait for an answer and offered his hand instead. “I’m Constantijin Kastein and I will be interviewing you today.”
No wonder everyone was staring. No fucking wonder. He was a Kastein – a board member at the very least. And I had taken the seat next to him like I was going to interview the others, too, when I should have been with them at the opposite side of the table.
Still drowning in a mental pool of embarrassment, I slowly took his hand. His hand immediately gripped mine, but what made my eyes shoot up to him incredulously was how he also managed to caress my fingers at the same time.
He returned it with an innocent one of his own. “Since you’re the last one to arrive, I hope you understand if you will be the last one I’ll be interviewing one-on-one.”
I could only nod dumbly. I hadn’t even known there was going to be a one-on-one. I was absolutely unprepared for it but right now, what I was most worried about was how my nipples seemed to be knocking against my blouse and begging for his attention. Worse, I also felt the heat of his gaze burn through my blouse just before he looked back at the other applicants. It was only for a second, but God! That second was something I’d never forget – just that one look and he made me feel he was already cupping my breasts and sucking my nipples.
I clutched my armrests more desperately. It was all I could do to control myself, knowing that if I crossed my legs he would know I was doing so because I was becoming wet for him. Oh dear, I was wet. For the first time in my life I was wet between my legs and it had nothing to do with taking a shower. It had everything to do with the man still eye-humping me and it was all I could do not to eye-hump him back.
How could a pair of silvery gray eyes be so powerfully seductive?
The nature of my thoughts made me want to drown myself longer in the pool of embarrassment in my mind, now transformed into a sauna of utter humiliation.
Constantijin Kastein.
He owned the company I was applying for and I hadn’t even recognized him. How could I be so dumb? And I was late for my interview, too. Why was I even here?
Constantijin was still speaking, his voice deep and husky but his accent less pronounced this time. And then he was handing out questionnaires. He gave mine last, and our fingers not so accidentally – on his part – brushed. I bit back another gasp, aghast and just outright stunned at how the merest touch from him could turn me on, more so than I already was.
How was it that I had lived 24 years without even being tempted to watch porn or masturbate and yet one look from this man was enough to make me mentally pant for his touch? If I had to be ruthlessly honest with myself, a part of me was even imagining what his cock would look like. I didn’t care about anyone else’s – I just wanted to look at his.
My face burned with color at what I had just privately admitted to myself.
When he bent towards me, I tensed. “Relax,” he said so softly that I knew I would be the only one able to hear him. “I don’t bite.”
Just as I opened my mouth to answer, he added even more softly, “Not unless you want me to. Starting with those lovely nipples of yours.”
Ladies and gentlemen, as of 9:24 in the morning, this 21st of September, I have officially had my first orgasm – or something really close to it. Trembling, I quickly turned away, my seat swiveling completely so that he would only be able to see the back of my chair. I had no plans responding – absolutely no plan at all since I knew whatever I say wouldn’t be able to hide how those words excited my body even as my mind recoiled from them.
Constantijin Kastein was like no one I knew – or even imagined knowing. I would never have thought of any stranger saying something like that to me; but when he did, it sounded terrifyingly right.
Ten minutes into the questionnaire and I could feel his gaze on me again, more heated than ever. We both knew I was aware that he was mentally undressing me with his gaze.
For a second, my fingers clenched around my Barbie-pink pen like a vise – the only thing I could do to release the weird and intense pressure that the sexual tension between us had created inside of me.
“Cute pen,” he said suddenly, startling me into dropping the said cute pen.
I stared in frustration at how that action had left an inch-long zigzag mark in the middle of my answer sheet. Great – just darn great. Whoever would end up checking this would be forgiven for thinking I might have been doodling around because I was having a hard time answering their questions.
“Thank you,” I muttered, swiveling my seat towards him as I reluctantly lifted my gaze to meet his, knowing I owed him that much. It was exactly as I feared.
Constantijin held my gaze with his bright gray eyes – and claimed me entirely through it. His seat swiveled as he faced me completely, our knees bumping as he did. I could only swallow, knowing that everything he did was a calculated move to seduce me – even though there were a dozen of other people in the room with us.
With this kind of sexual tension – none of that really mattered.
“Is pink your favorite color?” Oh, dear Lord, that accent was so sinfully sexy, too. It made me think of him with days-old stubble, arousing me as he used its rough texture to tease my brea---
Where the hell were all these thoughts coming from?
Realizing he was still waiting for an answer, I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I wanted to turn away but knew it would be the height of disrespect if I did. He was Constantijin Kastein of Kastein Incorporated, after all.
He inched even closer, and I tensed again when our knees bumped the second time. Unable to bear another not-so-accidental encounter, I swiveled my seat back in and glanced determinedly down on my questionnaire and answer sheet.
If I had thought that would dissuade him, it just seemed to have the opposite effect. Constantijin actually inched closer – enough for his breath to fan my cheek. As he spoke, I could feel his gaze caressing my breasts. “Thank God the ink’s not pink. That would be too much.”
I gripped my pen tightly again. Damn him. It was him that was too much…everything. Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself to tell him off. But when I looked up, he was already busy talking with Bottle Blonde, who – in complete contrast with how I felt – seemed more than eager to have him seduce her. Or even vice versa. You could tell by the way she was playing with the low neckline of her tight black dress, as if she was trying to figure out how to make it “unintentionally” reveal more of her already much-exposed cleavage. Any lower and she’d be showing her nipples.