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) 📗

Chapter 19

(Nathan - Day 5)

“Here you go, sir.” My secretary places a giant heap of documents on my desk.

After the night in Mamacita, I came to my office extra early in the morning to catch up on the duties I neglected over the past three days. The sheer amount of paper sitting in front of me is an unwanted reminder of just how much I overlooked. Perhaps the time has come to dip my toe into unknown waters and delegate some of my tasks.

I really don’t like the idea of letting things out of my control. But I hate the idea of having to miss out on time with Eva even more.

And on winning the bet. Yes, most importantly on that, of course.

My eyes flick to the pile. Maybe I could eliminate some of the less critical items without having to sacrifice my normal work ethic?

“Are these all red-flagged?”

“Yes, sir.” Rachel nods. Her entire posture is defensive, with her shoulders hunching forward and her hands intertwined in front of her pencil skirt. Her gaze is fixed on her shoes as if she’s waiting for some disapproving remark from me.

To be fair, one is already forming in my head. Despite my explicit request to Rachel to only bring me the cases requiring my urgent attention, the stack is so tall it reaches two-thirds of the way up my computer screen. So either she was lazy when she went through the files, or too shy when she applied her judgement about what is or isn’t crucial.

Just as I’m about to grumble some snarky comment, I remember Eva’s words.

You are quite…impressive when you let that nice side of you shine through.

I swallow back my critique. It’s not easy, because I’m all for clear communication. If something bothers me about Rachel, I prefer to get it off my chest quickly to avoid her repeating the error.

But if I’m going to see if Eva’s reasoning is correct, I’ll need to approach this situation differently.

I force my facial muscles into a smile. The smirk that comes out isn’t perfectly symmetrical, but it should be more amiable than the frown I was planning to give to my secretary. I clear my throat. “Wow, it seems I have my work cut out for me then, don’t I? You did a good job…uhm, gathering it all and not leaving any uncertain cases out.”

So far so good. Now I came up with a few appreciative words that don’t seem fake. It must’ve taken Rachel at least an hour to collect all the cases, so I might as well acknowledge that. Could I have said something more positive? Certainly. But even if I’m trying out a new people-skill, I want to remain me while doing it.

Rachel’s eyes dart to my face. I think I hear her gasp, but I’m not sure, because her hand is quicker at clapping at her mouth than the sound making its way out. When she pulls back her fingers, her lips curl up. It’s the first smile she has dared in my presence since I hired her three years ago.

I’m dumbfounded. Did my mildly considerate reaction do that to her?

Rachel presses a hand to her chest. “Thank you, sir, for your praise. It really means a lot. If there’s anything in the pile you think doesn’t belong there, just tell me. I’ll remember it for next time. I know you’re on a tight schedule.”

“Very well, Rachel,” I mumble, still puzzled by the effect of my words. “That’s all. You can go now.” I remember Murphy’s grimace from the other day, and I add hastily, “Thank you.”

Rachel gives me another shy smile and a polite, “It’s my pleasure,” before turning to the door. She walks out with her back straight and her steps definitely more springy than I have ever seen her do when leaving my office.

“Incredible,” I whisper to myself, shaking my head.

I really just wanted to put Eva’s theory to the test, but I’m amazed by the results. I can’t ignore how much her advice is in line with what Murphy often repeats to me. I definitely could have given it a shot earlier. But somehow when Eva explained it, the whole concept of seeing and treating employees as humans with feelings sounded more…intriguing.

I grab the first file from the pile and open it. I shift my eyes from one paragraph to the next, trying to decide whether the numbers I’m seeing add up, but my mind is actually occupied with Eva. When I realize I’ve just skipped an important line that confutes the hypothesis presented earlier on in the document, I glance up and lean back in my chair. The decorative carvings twinge my back, as if they disapprove of me stopping.

I really need to switch back to my old Arper Aston chair, even if Mother won’t like it.

I rub my nose with pinched fingers.

The thought of Mother reminds me of the ticking clock I’m under, and my stomach tightens. Should I start to worry about this bet? It’s not so much the approaching deadline that’s concerning. I’m confident I’m moving towards my goal. Slowly yes, but steadily. I’m behaving more in line with what pleases Eva, and the effect can be felt by her more cordial approach toward me.

Strangely enough, my demeanor when I’m around her doesn’t cost me much effort at all. I didn’t think I would get the hang of this genuine no-facade thing that fast, but I did. And if I’m honest, I’m even enjoying it.

No, rather, it’s my behavior when I’m not with Eva that worries me.

Is it normal, for example, that this morning I spent more of my brain capacity on what activity to suggest to her this afternoon than on the Richmond and Green business accord?

Choosing what to do with a woman for a few hours is not like solving the great mystery of our species, nor is it an exercise in