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) 📗

Especially me.

As if to prove I should’ve listened to my gut and revealed my presence before she could utter another word, Ellie leans toward Laia in a conspiratorial manner. “You know, I think Dev’s past challenges might be an unconscious factor in his zeal to play the lady’s man. It’s compensation for his past deprivations.”

Ellie touches Laia’s arm and smiles as if they’ve known each other forever.

I can’t blame Ellie for her warm, forthcoming manners. My sister is not only a very expansive person, but Laia has something in her that makes you like her on the spot. A quiet, understated charm which, the longer you remain exposed, the more it seeps into every inch of your being.

But I can definitely condemn my sister’s gossipy remark.

The moment to intervene has come.

I need to stop my sister before she depicts me as an unfortunate victim of circumstances in Laia’s eyes. Or worse, before she arrives at her favorite hypothesis about why Morgan could fool me.

I cough shortly to draw their attention, then I step into the kitchen. “Ah, Ellie. What a surprise, little sis. I didn’t realize you kept my spare keys the last time you stayed over.”

Ellie doesn’t flinch at my comment. Instead, she darts to me and jumps into my neck. “I’m so happy I popped by. It’s a funny coincidence, really. I happened to pass by in front of your building, and Philip stopped me. He mentioned you were upstairs with Laia to fetch some work stuff. I thought it would be a lovely time to catch you and give back your keys.”

She pulls back from me and grabs the keys from her pocket. She dangles them in front of me with an innocent smile.

Her feigned candor doesn’t fool me. There’s something seriously off in her story.

Did she tip Philip to give her a call if he saw me with a woman?

No, that would be too much, even for Ellie.

She might have sworn to bring me back to the path of virtue, but she wouldn’t spy on me with the help of my doorman, or would she?

I take the keys and deposit them on the kitchen counter. “Thanks, Ellie. But you could’ve just given me these another day. There was no need to come upstairs.”

Ellie points at Laia. “No, brother. It’s a perfect time. Otherwise, I would have missed out on chatting with your lovely assistant.”

“And filled her up on old and meaningless stories about me?” I grit my teeth.

“Devon, I didn’t mean to…” It’s Laia who chimes in, with a soft, almost frightened tone.

I capture Laia’s gaze. “Don’t worry. I know you didn’t press my sister for information on me. Ellie is…uhm…a smooth talker.”

Ellie taps my back. “Thanks for that, Dev. For the record, we only touched upon your health because Laia found your salbutamol spray in the cupboard.”

Laia’s eyes fill with a guilty glint. “I did, sorry. It was right beside Cat’s food, and I didn’t know whether it belonged there. I asked Ellie what it was, and if I should move it somewhere else.”

“Agatha must have shifted it around. She’s the neighbor I mentioned to you,” I reply.

“After spending a week at work and a Sunday afternoon with you”—Ellie gives me a coy smile as if to drive home the point that she knows I was at the car show with Laia—“I’m sure your assistant didn’t need my help to interpret your facade for what it is: a wall you build against the world.”

Grrr, again this psychobabble.

“Ellie, please…” I lower my voice to a menacing hiss. “Don’t embarrass me like this. Also, it’s wrong to assume that our past defines us. It certainly doesn’t define me.”

Laia steps closer and puts her hand briefly on my arm. “I don’t think that’s what your sister meant, Devon. She just wants you to recognize that certain patterns in your behavior could be impacted by what happened to you. But it doesn’t mean you’re the result of your past. All of us can choose who we want to be or want to believe in. In every moment. We can break patterns.”

She sounds a bit like a motivational bestseller.

Also, what patterns should I be looking at?

Tingling in the weirdest possible way when Laia touches me?

That will be a tough one to break away from, given that when Laia withdraws her fingers, I almost grab them and pull them back to my skin.

Ellie watches us from the corner of her eye, her mouth twisted upward. “Dev, before I go, I have one more thing to say.”

I snap my head to her. “Tell me quickly, because I need to drop Laia at her sister’s house.”

Ellie’s glance ricochets from me to Laia. A calculating grimace flashes on her symmetric features. “Laia, didn’t you say earlier that you have no plans for next Friday?”

Laia squares her shoulders. “Yes, I’m free. Why?”

I narrow my eyes at my sister, suspicion settling in my chest.

I sincerely hope she isn’t going with this where I think she is.

Before I can come up with a suitable way to disarm her, Ellie pops her question with a casual wave. “Do you want to come with me to a nice jazz club? I’d love to go, and it would be fun with some gal company.”

My fingers itch with the need to strangle my sister. There’s no doubt about which club she is referring to.

Laia’s face relaxes, as if she’s happy that Ellie’s proposal turned out to be a simple invite to an evening between girls. “Ah, that sounds nice.”

Nice? Not really. Rather diabolic.

Of course, Laia doesn’t know what Ellie’s real intention is. I, on the other hand, can see through my sister’s scheming.  

“Laia probably doesn’t even like jazz,” I grumble, throwing an I-know-what-you’re-up-to glance at Ellie.

To my surprise, Laia exclaims. “Oh no, I love jazz. I played the saxophone in my school’s music team. I wasn’t very good at it, though.”

What? Laia and I like the same music? Most women don’t like jazz. Morgan certainly didn’t.

This sidetracks me just long enough to allow my cunning sister to seal