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) 📗

I’m freaking out. Nathan’s hand on my back is the only thing helping me to keep my cool. At least toward the outside world. Inside I’m a jumble of nerves.

I’m walking beside the long buffet tables with Murphy and Nathan, though calling it a two-steps-halt, one-step-halt advance would be a better description of what we’re doing, given that, more often than not, one of the brothers is stopped by someone for a handshake.

Right now it’s Murphy who has been intercepted by an elderly couple. The woman is dressed in a sleek, green satin dress. Despite its expensive fabric and fabulous design, I can’t help but wonder why she hasn’t gotten a size bigger for herself. Doesn’t she have trouble breathing in this tight model? The man wears an extravagant bowtie in a blue hue. They are narrating to Murphy how their cat seems to be depressed these days.

I use the pause to look around better. Nathan caught me just when I arrived, and since we started to dance immediately, I didn’t have enough time to take in the grandeur of this fundraiser. I take a long peek at the fluted columns with gold leaf accents and custom moldings and scan the impeccably set tables that present dishes even Abuelita would envy.

Wow, this ballroom is easily the most chic place I’ve ever been to. And to think that Nathan’s mother uses it as a large living room in her everyday life… Will I need to visit here when there are no parties? How would this ornate ceiling look with normal furniture inside?

I shake my head imperceptibly to order my wacky thoughts. Perhaps I should get through this meeting with Nathan’s mother first, and only then allow myself to daydream about how I could fit into the Montgregors’ reality.

My eyes move to the woman with the kitty-trouble. She has already involved Nathan in their conversation too. Her perfectly manicured hands rest on his arm as she purses her lips. “Can you imagine how tough it is with Ishtar now? He just wants to sit all day at the window. Doesn’t even play with his toy mouse anymore.”

“No, I really can’t,” Nathan adds dryly, but his eyes are searching my gaze.

I nod to signal that I’m fine waiting.

I catch the cat-lady staring at me. Nathan hurries to introduce me. “Eugenia, Patrick, this is my wonderful plus one, Eva Flores.”

We squeeze hands and the man gives an admiring look to Nathan. “Your plus one is the most ravishing one in this room. Besides my Eugenia, of course.”

“Ah, Patrick, you’ll never change,” his wife grumbles, but she doesn’t seem bothered by her husband’s gaffe. I attempt a small smile and she answers me with a beam. “But my husband is right, you look fantastic in this gown. Is it Valentino? No, no, don’t tell me. It’s a Dior.”

“It’s a Balenciaga,” I murmur shyly. I feel very weird discussing these luxury brands as if they were the usual stores I shop at. I can’t thank Nathan enough for buying me my beautiful dress. Even if on the inside I feel like a total outsider, I can at least be certain that I look the part of someone who belongs.

Apparently the woman thinks I do too, because she continues grinning at me. “Ah, I should have guessed. But it doesn’t matter. This violet shade is just heavenly on your complexion, my dear.”

Murphy coughs shortly. “We would need to go upstairs to greet my mother.”

“Ah, yes, yes, of course,” Patrick chuckles. “We don’t want to keep you from Holly. Murphy, please think of our poor Ishtar and come by some time to check on him, will you?”

“Of course. I’ll do it.” Murphy nods and jerks his brows up quickly while flashing his eyes on me and Nathan. “Let’s take our cue and continue on before another feline personality disorder surfaces,” he hisses quietly.

I adjust my tulle underskirt so it doesn’t get in the way of my peep-toe sandals as I step forward. The last thing I need is to do a falling act in front of all these elegant people. The glossy hardwood floor is pretty slippery as it is. It’s weird how I didn’t notice this before when dancing with Nathan. Maybe because a waltz is still more familiar to me than anything else in Nathan’s family’s glamorous universe.

We arrive at the large entrance and my legs waver as my heels unexpectedly sink in the foyer’s thick carpet.

Nathan’s grip tightens on me immediately as if he’s ready to catch me just like when we climbed together. “Is everything fine, Eva? Not too overwhelmed yet?”

“Just a little.” I smile at him.

He grins back. “Very well, then let’s go and meet Mother.” Despite his cheerful expression, there’s a tense muscle on his left cheek. It does a small tic as we head to the giant marble stairs.

Is he also nervous about introducing me to his mother? If what he told me is true, and why shouldn’t it be, this situation must be as new to him as it is to me. This knowledge gives me courage to face what lies ahead.

Once we’re upstairs, Murphy leads us to a large nutmeg door and, without knocking, pushes it ajar. It’s an oval-shaped room that could be the perfect setting for any historical romance novel. There’s a magnificent fireplace beside the window, which by its look has been used very little, and above it a fascinating still-life painting in a large, golden frame. A Persian rug is positioned in the middle of the room and its intricate design and sumptuous color draws the eye. At the far end of the carpet, there’s a hand-crafted dark wooden desk. It’s highly detailed and overly ornamented, yielding an overall look that is grand and lavish yet symmetrical and balanced. I realize what Nathan meant when he said his taste in interior design couldn’t be further away from his mother’s.

“Ah, Nathan. And Eva, right?