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) 📗

Jimmy compares everyone to musicians. The fact that Mexico’s jazz prodigy reminds him of Laia—though I can’t trace any objective likelihood between the two—is the highest compliment he can pay to my assistant, at least in Jimmy’s terms.

“Yes, she’s an exceptional girl,” I murmur without realizing, while my mind wanders back to the fierce glow in Laia’s eyes when she accused me of not knowing what true love meant.

It was rational for Laia, without knowing about my past, to believe I’d always been a ladies’ man.

Still, her words stung like yellow jackets, and even remembering them sends a hot, smoky, almost irreverent pain billowing through my chest.

My grief has nothing to do with my ex, and everything to do with the realization that Laia doesn’t believe me capable of real devotion.

Jimmy’s fleshy lower lip moves into a smirk. “It’s good to see you bringing along a girl for a change. I’d much rather see you with lots of kiddos who’ll inherit your gift for music than drinking booze with Pete.” He winks at me. “Though don’t tell our Elvis imitator I said that. I like him just as much as you, but I know he won’t change, while with you I still have some hope.”

Before I get the chance to correct Jimmy’s assumption about Laia, he taps my back. “Gotta get back outside, Dev. Pick some nice song for the lady of your heart.”

He rushes away, leaving me with a mood darker than I had before we spoke.

I rub my cheeks and draw in a big breath. Lucky I’m about to play the piano, because this activity always clears my head.

As I exit to the podium, my eyes immediately search for Laia and my sister. I have no doubt they’ll get along fabulously, but I’m worried because I couldn’t coax out of Ellie what her secret plan for tonight is.

And I’m sure she has one.

I first find Ellie who is hard to miss, given that she’s gesticulating with ample movements to the barman.

My glance shifts further to Laia, still sitting on the same barstool where I left her. Her eyes are closed as if she’s wrapped up in some inner fantasy. Whatever she sees, it must be good, because a ravishing smile plays on her lips.

I settle to the piano, but my gaze is still on her face.

She looks absolutely stunning and unusually relaxed. I would give anything to see her this happy more often.

It wasn’t entirely illogical for Jimmy to assume that when I finally show up with a woman in his club after years of frequenting the place alone the person I come with would have a special meaning.

Still, his misconception frustrated me.

Now, admiring how the spotlights of the bar illuminate Laia’s face, making her skin sparkle, I realize my irritation about Jimmy’s theory wasn’t caused by the right reason. I wasn’t bothered that he assumed Laia and I dated. I was troubled because his remark made me want that he didn’t have to misinterpret our situation.

“Hey, when are you starting?” A man from a nearby table jars me out of my reverie.

I nod to him to signal right now and blink at the massive music sheet holder that contains the full repertoire Harry was supposed to play.

I like Bud Powell and Miles Davis, but before getting into their groovy rhythms, I’d like to play one special song.

I don’t even need the notes for it, since I know it by heart.

Will she understand why I picked it?

Do I even?

Before I can change my mind, I press my fingers on the keyboard.

As the first strings strike, sending a bittersweet melody floating around the room, Laia’s eyes spring open.

For a moment, despite her eyelids not shading her spectacular irises anymore, she still appears to be elsewhere…in a sort of trance, maybe. But then her gaze moves to me, and her lips part slightly.

I would never confess it to Ellie—the instigator of my demise—and I have a tough time even admitting it to myself, but as my eyes lock with Laia’s, the whole club seems to brighten up.

I didn’t want Laia to come tonight. I’ve been angry with my sister for inviting her. But having Laia at Jimmy’z, listening to the song she inspired me to pick, feels good.

Like Laia belongs here.

In the very hideaway to which I ostentatiously refused to invite any women.

Could this be a sign that Laia could fit my life, too?

A powerful emotion surges through me. Desperately afraid to trust it or even decipher what it might be, I shove it aside and deepen my fingertips on the keys.

Yes, sublimating these scary, exciting feelings into this song will surely help rid my soul of them for good.

Chapter 27

(Laia)

The sounds that Devon lures from the piano swirl around the room like magical serpents, wiggling their way into the listeners’ souls.

His music must be the reason I feel suddenly breathless.

The snake must be crashing my ribs against my lungs as it dances through my chest.

The first three buttons of his shirt are open, giving just a glimpse at his collarbone. His fingers run up and down on the white and black keys with such grace, it’s as if he were born to do this. The melody, familiar, captivating, but above all played to perfection, fills the bar.

Just when I think I’m not able to take his music’s beauty, Devon begins to sing.

I can’t see if he has a mic attached to his shirt, or maybe it’s clipped to the piano in a way that’s invisible to anyone not on stage, but he must have some kind of amplifier, because his voice reverberates from the walls of the bar with sheer force.

And what a voice.

How did I not catch this before?

When Devon speaks, he has a deep and pleasant baritone. But when he sings? His intonation is so sensual and purring, I feel like I’ve just eaten a full-blown, decadent chocolate cake with strawberry topping.

Satisfied but craving for more.

I lean forward on my seat, not realizing when Ellie comes back and plops down beside me. My whole attention is focused