Law #2: Don't Play with a Player: A Sweet Office Romance Story (Laws of Love) by Agnes Canestri (i am reading a book TXT) 📗

“Yeah.” Laia snorts. “You’re in it for one thing only.” A delicate color seeps into her cheeks, but her voice doesn’t waver. “There is nothing exceptionally deep or meaningful about that.”

I want to shoot back a resentful comment, but my eyes flick to her mug, and my irritation fades.

A princess and a monster…

Laia is clearly a hopeless romantic. That explains the wholesomeness I admire about her. I’m not sure I want to say anything more to challenge her idealistic view of love.

“Well, Laia, you might be right. Let’s agree to disagree.”

Laia nods. “As I said, it was kind of you to offer your help with my romance, but I think it’s better if you don’t.”

“I understand. Our opinions on relationships are abysmally different.”

Laia nods. “They are, indeed.”

We glare at each other, and the air between us becomes dense.

Or at least, so it feels to me. It’s like the particles are loaded with the intensity of our gazes, and they float around us with tiny sizzles.

I’d probably keep staring at Laia in silence, but she interrupts me by peeking at her watch. “Devon, it’s getting late. Do you need me to help you with anything else?”

“No, you’re free to go, if you want.”

I don’t really want her to leave, but it’s Friday evening, and Laia must be anxious to get the heck out of the office and do…well, whatever is that she does in the evenings.

“Okay, thanks.” Laia sighs with relief. She pivots to her desk and fidgets with her keyboard until her screen goes dark.

Curiosity flares in my chest about Laia’s plans for the weekend, but, luckily, I’m sensible enough to stop myself from inquiring about them.

“Okay, then have a great weekend,” I say, and meander back to my office.

It’s time to get back to my own life. I have better things to do than just chitchatting with my assistant. Especially since she clearly dismissed my offer to help her.

Pete has invited me to be his wingman on a double-date dinner. The girl I’ll need to entertain is supposedly hot.

Once in my office, I lie down on the sofa.

From the corridor, I can hear the sounds of Laia’s shoes. I listen to the rhythmic clicks trying to imagine what she could be doing.

Now she’s going to the kitchen to wash her mug. Now she’s back. And now she must be picking up her bag and tidying up her desk. The noise reaching my ears sounds like pencils shifting back and forth in a pencil holder.

Shortly after, there are clicks on the floor again, signaling that she’s on the move. The thuds get fainter and fainter, telling me Laia must have left for the elevator.

I sit up and pull my cell phone from my pocket.

I have no idea why, but out of the blue, I’m no longer in the mood to go out. I don’t want to show a good time for a woman I’ve never met, even if she looks like Heidi Klum.

A long night in a club doesn’t tempt me either—which, knowing Pete, would be the unavoidable continuation of our soiree.

I compose a message.

“Hi, pal. Let’s take a rain check for tonight. Some important work stuff came up. It’ll take my whole evening. Greet your new friends from me. Catch you next week, Dev.”

I hit send and put the phone away.

It’s superfluous to ponder about why I’m deserting Pete. My buddy will do well without me. He might even thank me later for the double pleasure package my absence granted him.

Besides, it’s not like Pete never bails on me. He refused to come with me to the car show on Sunday. And I even got a ticket for him from Vanessa.

Does Laia know there’s such a cool event in town?

Maybe I should’ve offered her Pete’s ticket. Like a gift, from one aficionado to another aficionado.

I shake my head and stand up.

Well, that ship has sailed anyway. I didn’t mention the show to Laia, so she might or might not be there.

Chapter 19

(Laia)

“Remind me again why we’ve been standing in this boring line for over an hour now? It’s Sunday, and it’s hot. Why don’t we go to the swimming pool instead?”

It’s Chelsea’s third attempt to dissuade me from buying us tickets to the Phoenix Car Show’s Special May Edition. First, she said we should get a mani-pedi instead, and shortly after, she proposed an impromptu visit to the mall.

As if any of these options could be mentioned on the same page as the thrill of seeing Audi showcase its RS 6 Avant, their dashing Euro-wagon.

I quickly count the number of people in front of us.

Forty-six. Not that bad.

“Don’t worry, we’re almost at the counter,” I console her. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Did you know that you can test drive anything you like?”

Chelsea stares at me as if I’m an alien. “Why didn’t you bring your brother instead of me?”

Yes, Luis Miguel would have been more enthusiastic company for sure. Both of us got infected with my father’s love of cars, so he would be excited about this event.

“He’s still in deployment overseas. But I think you’ll like this show, too.” It’s my job to instill a sense of anticipation in Chelsea, so I ponder what might convince her that I’m not subjecting her to torture. “There will be cute guys who are good with their hands.”

Chelsea grins. “Now that’s more of an argument for your case, but”—she glances at her watch—“I’m meeting Howard for dinner. Will we get home in time? I need to do a proper waxing.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course. The show closes at six. Your skin is already hairless anyway.”

Chelsea smooths her miniskirt and blinks at her long, lean legs. “Yeah, most of it. But I need all areas of my body to be spotless. Who knows where tonight will lead, right?” She wiggles her brows at me.

I hold up my hand. “I don’t need to hear this. Anyway, you barely know the guy, Chels, and he’s your supervisor.”

Chelsea