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) 📗

purses her lips, then shrugs. “He likes me. I like him. Also, we are mature adults. We don’t need to be soulmates to hit it off.”

She sounds just like Devon.

My chest tightens as I recall his disillusioned view of relationships.

Usually, I feel sorry for people who don’t recognize the importance of love, but in Devon’s case, my emotion was different. I couldn’t help but feel disappointed about the way he spoke.

Not that it should be any of my business whether he wishes to be one person’s true love or a paramour to many women.

“OMG, is that our CEO over there?” Chelsea squeaks and points behind me.

I grab at her arm and push it to her side without turning my head. “It’s impolite to point at people.”

“It’s really him, Laia. Look,” Chelsea insists.

I whirl around.

Oh goodness, it is Devon.

The odds of him showing up weren’t unfeasible, given that we share a passion for potent engines and propulsion dynamics. Did I fantasize about running into him at this event?

No, absolutely not.

Or perhaps just a little. One fleeting thought when I picked my favorite flowery blouse and paired it to my best-fitting blue jeans instead of my comfier pants.

This is the first time meeting Devon outside of the office, and I’m taken aback by how different he looks.

Correction, different and same.

He has the same stubborn jaw, the same muscular legs, and the same broad shoulders, but he’s wrapped his chiseled muscles into a jeans and polo shirt combo that makes him appear very approachable.

Apparently too approachable, because before I realize what I’m doing, I find myself waving at him.

Devon notices me and gives a dazzling smile.

“He’s coming to speak with us,” Chelsea whispers and grabs her lipstick from her tiny clutch purse. She applies it to her mouth with brisk strokes.

“What are you doing?” I ask, keeping an eye on Devon.

“There’s no harm in freshening up. You want some?” She holds out the bright red color to me.

“Shouldn’t you spare your good looks for Howard?” My phrase comes out a bit too hissy, almost as if an insecure, covetous creature had control of my vocal cords.

Chelsea doesn’t miss it. “Hey, Laia, is that jealousy I hear? Don’t worry. I withdrew my claims on Devon the moment I realized he wasn’t interested in me. That’s the biggest turn-off I can have. But you, girl, why are you all tense? Is there something you’re not telling me about our dashing boss and you?”

“Sshhh, be quiet,” I hush as Devon enters into earshot distance.

Chelsea gives me an I’m so going to squeeze you about this later glance but stops her inappropriate interrogation.

“Hi, ladies.” Devon greets us with a smile that’s friendly and flirty at the same time.

Maybe I’m just projecting flirty into his gesture, though. Because of the way the breeze tousles his hair and because his teeth glisten unrealistically white.

“Hi, Devon. What a surprise to see you here,” Chelsea purrs beside me, and I almost kick her knee for sounding so sensual.

Isn’t she planning on hooking up with Howard tonight? Then she should stop imitating Beyoncé’s timbre.

“Well, I love cars as much as Laia.” Devon winks at me, and my knees almost buckle.

“You do? Interesting.” Chelsea squints at me, and I can see how she observes the teased ponytail I spent over twenty minutes creating.

“Do you also need to buy tickets?” I ask, hoping that my voice doesn’t sound too excited.

As my brother would say, it’s no Valhalla if I get to stand in the same queue as Devon for a couple of minutes.

Devon’s forehead creases. “I already have my entry cards. I happen to know the PR manager of the venue, and she slipped me two free VIP passes.”

Though he doesn’t put an accent on the she, I can’t stop myself from wondering whether he and the venue’s probably gorgeous PR have a history or not.

“Two passes?” Chelsea chimes in. “So, are you here with someone?”

This time I’m thankful for Chelsea’s big mouth because I was curious about the same thing but wouldn’t have dared to ask.

“Nope,” Devon shrugs. “It seems I don’t know any fellow car lovers except for my assistant.”

“So why don’t you give your free pass to Laia then?” Chelsea asks with an innocent smile.

I burst into a fit of coughing from the saliva I just choked on when hearing my friend’s blunt proposal. What is she even thinking?

Devon’s brows arch, and he throws me a worried glance.

Chelsea pats my back, while she continues to lay the groundwork to whatever diabolic plan she’s come up with. “Laia has been raving about this show for weeks, but the tickets were sold out online. I’m not even sure we will get one standing in this line so—”

I manage to gain back control of my lungs. “Nonsense, of course we’ll get tickets.”

Devon’s eyes bounce between Chelsea and me. “I’d be more than happy to give you my free pass, but I fear I only have one extra ticket, so I’m not sure…”

Chelsea waves. “That’s no problem. I’m not a car lover anyway. Laia can go in with you, and I can head home to prepare for my date.”

I turn to Chelsea. “But you aren’t meeting Howard until eight. Don’t you want to come and see the show?”

“Howard?” Devon furrows his brows. “As in Howard Wright from accounting?”

I clasp my hand to my mouth.

Why did I need to out my friend’s private life like that? Devon might be dressed casually, but he’s still the CEO of the company we work for.

Chelsea throws daggers at me, probably recalling how Devon explicitly stated that he doesn’t like to mix work with relationships.

“Yes, it’s that Howard,” Chelsea answers.

“You know it’s against the rules, right?” Devon says, but his voice doesn’t sound particularly troubled by the prospect of an intern dating one of his managers.

Chelsea, however, takes his question as a call to war.

I wince as I see the challenging glimmer invade her eyes. My friend has a way of getting cheeky whenever she thinks someone is questioning her unjustly.

I try to poke her