Law #1: Never Bet on Love: A Sweet Billionaire Love Story (Laws of Love) by Agnes Canestri (the beginning after the end novel read .TXT) 📗

this morning, so I didn’t get her firing squad type questioning yet. Though based on what Laia told me, I can expect a long session with her next time we meet.

Laia chuckles at my words. “Ah, you can’t blame this on your chatty siblings.”

Something in her voice makes me jerk up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she says grinning at me, “that it wasn’t Espie and Juan. It was you who told me you like this billionaire.”

What is she talking about?

I wrack my brain to remember what I have said to my cousin last night. Laia had waited up for me and we chatted till almost midnight. Also a bit about Nathan, I believe. I’m not quite sure, because the exhaustion after work and the sweet red wine Laia poured into my glass blurred my memory a little.

I cross my arms, not caring that my gloves leave dark smudges on my pink T-shirt. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to. I told you what happened. That’s hardly a confession about anything.”

Laia kneels to my eye-level. “Ah, really? You said—and I’m quoting…” She starts to count on her fingers. “One, he’s got the most amazing grey eyes, deep and alluring like the Duke’s. Two, he isn’t half as haughty or cocky as you thought, in fact he was kind with Juan even after he painted his car. Three, he surprised you with his gardening skills and working alongside him felt natural. Oh, you also mumbled something about his daddy issues and his mother preferring his brother, but I couldn’t get those points fully as you were constantly yawning.” She scratches her head as she tries to unearth something else from her mind. “Ah, yes… my personal favorite—you claimed his physical closeness makes you feel like a piece of butter on a sizzling pan! Is this enough of a confession or shall I go on?”

As she recites my exact words, I cringe inwardly.

Did I really say all this? Even that cheesy line about the butter? Oh, gosh. I’ve never been much of a drinker, but I’m not touching a drop of alcohol ever again. It must have totally messed with my brain. Why would I have said all this nonsense otherwise? I must have been so tired after my shift, I couldn’t control my mouth and brain properly.

I raise my hands in protest, dirt falling from my fingers to the ground. “Please stop. Fine, maybe I said all that. But it doesn’t mean anything. I wasn’t in…well, in me.”

Laia shakes her head, and her long black hair drifts around her shoulders like a cascade. “Ah, you were very much in you. That little alcohol only eased your inhibitions and helped you voice what you would otherwise keep suppressed.”

“It’s not true,” I snap back, but my voice doesn’t sound convincing. Not after hearing the vivid replay of my own blabbering about Nathan.

“Isn’t it?”

When we were growing up, people used to think that Laia and I were sisters. By some interesting turn of genetics, her looks resemble mine more than those of my siblings. Even now, the mocking frown she wears makes me think of myself.

“Fine,” I decide to admit. “Maybe I like him. A little. Certainly not as much as you would make it seem. But it doesn’t matter. I’ve probably made a mistake already accepting his invite.”

“Why?”

“Because I let the fact that Nathan is a more honest and nicer rich man than the average one blind me. He surely doesn’t have a lasting kind of interest in me.”

My tone hides a disappointed edge, and I hope I’m the only one who’s able to hear it.

My rationality tells me the reason Nathan insists on seeing me must be a mix of male pride and sexual interest. It has to be that. There’s no way a man of his looks, financial resources, and social background could have a genuine interest in me.

And he doesn’t even know Ale is in jail, yet.

Of course, that is entirely on me. Nathan offered me a good chance to come clean about having a convicted brother when he asked why I moved home. I still don’t know why I didn’t. I’m not ashamed of Ale. It’s not his fault he ended up in that mess. If it’s on anyone’s conscience, then it has to be on mine.

But discussing Ale with Nathan would have brought up questions. And those would have led to speaking about my drug dealer ex. I’m sure that a man in Nathan’s position would run before associating himself with someone who has a past like mine.

Wait… I freeze.

Could that be the reason why I didn’t say a word? Could a part of me secretly hope that Nathan could be for real?

As if Laia senses that my thoughts are making me vulnerable to her argument, she insists, “You can’t be sure of that. Not until you give him a chance to show what he’s made of. He might be like the Duke and—”

I snort. “Ah, Laia, please! When all’s said and done, Nathan won’t come around looking for me with a glass shoe. Or however that darned Cinderella story goes.”

My cousin, contrary to me, is a born romantic. When we were kids, she was all about princes in shiny armor. Normally I find her naive ideals endearing, but not today. I don’t want to begin to see Nathan as anything special. I mustn’t.

Laia’s face softens. “I get it, Eva. You’re afraid that if you let yourself go, you’ll end up with a broken heart.”

She’s right. I do dread giving my heart to anyone after it has been mistreated. But there’s nothing wrong with that.

As if Laia can read in my thought, she adds, “Except there is, Eva. Plenty of wrong. You cut yourself off from finding love. Nathan isn’t like Fernando.”

My ex’s name catches me off guard, and I almost drop from my squatting position to the ground. “How would you know that? He could very well be just like him. A wicked wolf in sheep’s clothing!”