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) 📗

one thigh. She’s the only female in the room who upgraded the casual cocktail dress code into a white-tie event.

“Whatever Laia wears, she’ll look lovely in it,” I answer.

Morgan cocks her head to the side and observes me. “Huh, so I got it wrong, didn’t I?”

She certainly did—many things. I just don’t know which one she’s referring to. “What do you mean?”

“That tabloid article. It wasn’t telling the truth. You didn’t give up your lifestyle. You brought along your co-worker for some extra-curricular activity. I didn’t realize you had a fetish for the boss-employee setup.”

Her words bug me because they are partially correct, though not in the sense Morgan means.

I have no desire to discuss my feelings for Laia with Morgan, so I shake my head. “It’s none of your business why Laia is here. The only thing you should deduce from her presence is that whatever you imagined would happen between us in this resort, will not occur.”

A vexed glint invades Morgan’s eyes, and I wonder for a second whether my words were too blunt. But she really irritated me with her dismissive remarks about Laia.

She sniffs. “You know, Devon, it might be time for you to come down from your moral high horse. I might have hooked up with your buddy in college, but at least I married the guy. I’m not an egoist playboy like you.”

Before I can interject that only this afternoon she said that she was ready to blow up her marriage, Morgan turns on her heels and rushes out of the room.

I stride over to the bar, hop up on a barstool, and order sparkling water.

As I watch the bubbles rise to the surface in my glass, Morgan’s last words swirl in my head.

I used to protect my conscience by telling myself I wasn’t hurting anyone as long as I was transparent with my partners about what they could expect. That I could do no harm, because I never pretended to want anything more than what I was capable of giving.

But perhaps my ex is right.

I was selfish. I focused on what I wanted. I never bothered to question what would be best for the women I dated.

With Laia, I can’t make the same mistake.

Where is she, anyway? I hope she didn’t get lost.

“Why are you looking so grumpy?”

Laia’s voice jars me out of my self-doubt. She stands beside me with a concerned expression.

Her dulcet timbre acts like a spell, dissolving the dark cloud of worry at once.

Morgan’s comment about Laia’s dress couldn’t have been farther off. Laia looks absolutely breathtaking in her flared skirt and tight bodice with a sober but still charming neckline. The light shade of blue accentuates her skin’s glow and sparkles against the dark cascade of her hair.

“You’re…pretty. Very, very pretty.”

Laia blushes. “Thanks. But it’s Chelsea who found this dress for me, so I can’t take credit for it.”

“Maybe not for the dress, but the rest is all you. And that’s the most important part. The part I like the most.”

Her jaw drops, and an alarmed glint invades her gaze.

Oh, perhaps I need to go slower with these kinds of compliments. I don’t want to scare her off. 

I pick up my glass and take a sip. The cold water eases my throat.

“Do you want me to order you anything?” I ask, pretending my previous comment wasn’t a confession at all.

“No, I’m fine. You remember my bubbly accident, don’t you?”

“They have plain water, too,” I point at my drink, but she shakes her head again.

“No, I’m really okay, Devon, thanks.”

I wave to the band. “Do you like these guys? They’re awesome.”

The singer is singing “Ain’t Misbehavin’” from LeRoy Holmes, and her deep contralto reverberates in the air around us.

“Yes, they’re great. Since the reception mixed up your booking, I could listen to them while I got ready. Would you like to dance?” Laia’s voice is filled with an anxious undertone.

I’d love to be carried away by the singer’s sensual voice while Laia leans against my chest, but I can see Laia’s unease.

She really didn’t lie when she told Ellie she isn’t a dancer…

I decide to propose something different.

I point to the terrace door. “I’d prefer to take a walk in the garden.”

A soft whoosh of air leaves her lips as her mouth moves into a surprised oh. “Sure, okay. Go. I’ll…I’ll just see what’s at the buffet and then—”

Does she think I want her to stay?

“I meant you and me. Together.” I stand up and shake my legs as if to prove that they indeed need some movement.

Laia’s brows move into a confused frown. “Oh, right. Okay, sure…I can come with you if you like.”

“Let’s go then.” I grin at her and put a hand between her shoulder blades.

Chapter 40

(Laia)

The evening air’s flowery scent wraps me in a protective embrace, as I step from the terrace onto the garden’s pebbly road.

It grants me a brief break from my frustration of not understanding Devon’s behavior.

“Where would you like to go? Toward the rose garden where we went this afternoon? Or the small pond on the other side of the chessboard?”

Devon’s voice comes from much closer than expected. His hot breath rakes my skin with a tempting pleasure, freezing my brain cells.

I take a second before I turn and peer up at him.

“We can go wherever you want.” I aim for my voice to sound lighthearted and score on the medium-high end of the success scale. “It’s you who needs to loosen up your legs.”

Devon points to the left. “Then let’s go to the roses.” He stretches his arm toward me. “You want to lean on me?”

“Why?”

“Because of your heels. They are rather high.” He smiles at me warmly. “I don’t want you to break your neck because of my fancy.”

I’d love nothing more than to hold on to Devon, but not because I’m afraid to fall.

And that’s the only reason he offers his arm, apparently, so it’s better to avoid touching him altogether.

“I won’t,” I say confidently.

At least not my neck.

My heart is a different matter…

The labyrinth of