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) 📗

roses is more beautiful than it was when the afternoon sun illuminated its bushes. The petals glisten in a silvery halo, and the contrast between the shadows and the delicate moonlight creates a magical fairyland feel.

There are no artificial streetlights here, only candles at the windows of the small chapel that stands at the center of the maze.

Devon ambles to the building and waves to me. “Come, the view is amazing from here. You can see the entire rose garden, the canyon, and the hotel at one glance.”

I stagger over to him. The lack of proper lighting might contribute to the fable-like atmosphere, but it also makes the path more challenging.

Confusion pulls in my belly with each shaky step I take.

Chelsea had convinced me that Devon’s puzzling behavior might mean something. I even thought I saw confirmation that my friend was right during our afternoon together. But then when I invited him to dance, he refused me. Point-blank.

If he wanted a chance to cozy up with me, he surely wouldn’t have done that, right?

The slow beats of a song from the ballroom drift around us, and a silly disappointment surfaces in me once more. I’m tagging along on his walk like a clumsy puppy, without even understanding why he wished me to accompany him on this trip in the first place.

That’s enough, Laia. 

The voice of confidence I’ve been nurturing over these past weeks finally makes its appearance.

And it’s right. I have to stop beating myself down. What I must do, instead, is clear the situation with Devon, once and for all.

“Why am I really here, Devon?” I blurt out when I reach him, even if I didn’t make a conscious decision about confronting him.

Devon turns to me, his arms opening as his shoulders pull up in perfect synchrony with his brows. “You’re here to see the garden with me.”

I square my shoulders before leveling his gaze. “No, I mean why did you invite me to Tucson? I don’t think you really needed me here as your assistant.”

Devon shakes his head, his tone still baffled. “Yes, of course, I did. Your company here means so much to me.”

Again these ambiguous words.

Is he doing it on purpose? Can’t he see how easy it is to misinterpret what he’s saying?

I draw in a big breath as I gather my wit.

Maybe Devon can’t help himself. Perhaps flirting is in his blood. But if he’s playing with me, even if unwittingly, I need to know. Now.

“Why didn’t you want to dance with me?” I ask.

Devon’s jaw drops, then he throws back his head and laughs. “Oh, heavens, is this why you look so sullen? You wanted to dance with me?”

Hold your ground. “And what if I did? Is that a crime?”

His face becomes serious, and his eyes lock with mine. “No, it’s not. Why did you want to dance with me, Laia?”

I take a step back and land against the wall of the chapel. I fold my arms in front of my chest.

Embarrassment and a strange boldness war for space inside me, but I somehow manage both with equal aplomb—which makes me wonder how much I’ve truly changed since meeting Devon.

This contemplation becomes fact when the words the old me would never have dared to utter find their way to my lips. “I wanted to dance with you because…uhm…I think I fancy you.”

I describe my feelings with a non-committing word, even if my ribcage drums. Despite my impulse of courage there’s still enough of the shy Laia left in me.

Devon’s eyes widen, but before he can respond, I add, “And based on some of your late actions, I assumed you might fancy me. But—”

His lips curl up. “But now you think I proposed a walk instead of accepting your invitation to dance because I’m not interested in you.”

His voice is soft and thick with a rough emotion—a bit like a sour punch straw candy. Below the zest of acidity, I can sense its sweet taste.

I nod.

He deduced my thought correctly. Now the ball is in his court.

Devon gives me a bold, sweeping gaze. “So, you believed I refused to dance with you because I didn’t want to have you in my arms…” He takes a step toward me. “…feel your warm body pressed to my chest…” He approaches even more. “…or have your mouth only inches away from my own?”

He’s so close I can see the tiniest details on his face in the glow of the candlelight.

“Something like that,” I mumble.

He tilts his head, but his eyes don’t leave mine. “Well, Laia, you’ve got it all wrong.”

“Do I?” I whisper.

He wiggles his brows and nods. “Absolutely. Because I’m interested in you. A lot. And not just as my assistant, but as a woman. Because,” he chuckles shortly, “despite what you reproached me for at Jimmy’z, I’m all too aware that this is what you are. I know as your boss I’m not supposed to be feeling this way about you, but I do.”

He smiles in a boyish, I’m-guilty-but-I-don’t-mind way.

I stare at him, my mouth opening and closing.

Am I awake or dreaming? “But I’m not skinny, blond, or tall,” I say as if my brain struggled to accept Devon’s abrupt confession.

He sighs. “No, Laia, you’re not. And yet, you set fire to me like no one ever could.”

As if Devon can read my doubts, he leans in so his breath caresses my ear and adds, “You, Laia, are nothing I could have ever imagined wanting, yet you arouse every sense, every thought, heck, every feeling in me.”

He brackets my waist with a palm on either side, and then rubs the tip of his nose against mine.

I search his gaze, and what I find nearly has me swaying.

Devon isn’t lying about his attraction to me. I read the molten desire in his eyes, taste it in the ragged pants of his breath.

Warmth swirls through my belly, yet I stand motionless as our lips almost touch.

However, as soon as Devon brushes his mouth on mine, gently as if he’s asking permission, a sharp, wild need sizzles