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) 📗

Could I have been wrong? Maybe Morgan went over to Devon’s, but he didn’t touch her?

“Right, like any man in his right mind could resist a woman of Morgan’s beauty, especially when dressed in that racy robe,” I mumble out loud the curveball that my inherent uncertainty throws at me.

Eva sighs. “You forget that a man in love is different from a normal man. He reasons with his heart and not with…you know.” She wiggles her brows at me.

A man in love. 

Eva’s words seem to trigger my fable-loving inner goddess because, for a moment, I allow myself to ponder whether I accused Devon erroneously and if he hadn’t betrayed my trust.

Desperate to fight back the mushy warmth that takes possession of my chest and spreads toward the rest of my body, I concentrate on the rest of the events that confirm I’m right to feel deceived by Devon.

“Okay, we don’t know what went down with his ex. But the story with his previous assistant? He also had an affair with her. Which, you must admit, is a clear sign I wasn’t anything special to him.”

Eva twists her mouth from left to right, which makes her look like a pensive squirrel.

Just when she opens her lips to answer, the lock of our entrance door clicks.

Chelsea trots inside with a card box in her arms. “Hi, you both!” she greets us and drops her package on the kitchen counter.

“What’s that?” Eva asks.

“Laia’s office stuff. She asked me to collect it for her, so I did.”

Chelsea’s voice is high-pitched and trembling, a quality it only acquires when my roomie is about to explode with some exciting news.

My heart gives a beat out of rhythm.

Did she bump into Devon when she gathered my belongings? If so, did he ask about me?

He hasn’t answered my resignation email yet. So it’s been two days, seven hours, and ten minutes that I haven’t heard or seen him.

Before I get a chance to scold my brain for keeping track of the time again, Chelsea walks to the other side of the table. She bends forward, resting her weight on her elbows, a mysterious smile stretching on her face.

“You won’t guess what I discovered today,” she announces in a dramatic voice.

“Come on, just spill it quickly. I’m in the middle of a psychotherapy session with Laia,” Eva says.

Chelsea purses her pink-painted lips. “About Devon, I suppose?” Without waiting for our answer, she adds, “Perfect timing then. Because my information is about him.”

Eva gives me a slanted glance, and then as if she realizes I won’t have the strength to inquire, she asks, “What did you find out, Chels?”

Chelsea’s green eyes fill with the same zeal she gets when she narrates a story on her YouTube channel. “So, it happened like this…I went upstairs to get Laia’s things, but Devon was out of the office. His domesticated dragon—”

“Katja, his secretary,” I chime in, seeing Eva lift her brows. “Chelsea calls her that.”

Chelsea giggles. “That’s because she’s fearsome. Like horror story kind. Especially with those stiff braids. Anyway, so Katja told me that Devon called in sick today. She said he had a migraine or something.”

Eva throws me a meaningful glance. “You see? He might feel terrible about what happened between you two.”

“Or he just went out last night to a club and got his eardrums busted,” I mumble, but I don’t believe my own cheeky remark either.

Chelsea seems bothered that we derailed from her tale and coughs twice to reclaim our attention. “Ladies, could I continue? I’m still not at my crux.”

We nod, and Chelsea clears her voice. “Okay, so Katja asked me what happened to you and why you decided to quit so unexpectedly.”

My jaw tightens. “Oh, gosh, Chels, I hope you didn’t tell her why.”

Chelsea rolls her eyes. “Of course I didn’t. Or at least not everything. Only major brushstrokes.”

“Not everything? Chels!” I exclaim, but my roomie exchanges my irritation with a charming shrug.

“Wait till I tell you what I found out, okay? Then you can get all banshee on me.”

I lean back on my chair. “Okay, finish what you started. But count that as a proper scolding. You really need to learn how to be more discreet.”

Chelsea brushes off my critique with a little sniff and dives back in to her narration. “I thought Katja would be indignant when she heard how Devon tinkered with your feelings, but instead she jumped to his defense like a lioness. She told me that from what she knew, Devon would never get back with his ex. She claimed you must have gotten confused by what you saw.”

Eva claps her hands. “Just what I said.”

I poke Chelsea’s arm. “Didn’t you say you hadn’t gotten into the nuts-and-bolts of what happened? Mentioning Morgan seems pretty detailed to me.”

Chelsea’s face assumes a somewhat guilty look. “Have you tried to tell a half-truth to that woman? It’s an impossible task. Also, she may or may not have used Russian interrogation techniques on me.”

Eva begins to giggle, and despite my annoyance, I can’t help the smile that forces its way to my lips, hearing my roomie’s lousy excuse.

“Is this all you learned?” Eva asks.

“No, here comes the beef.” Chelsea pauses and bounces her gaze between Eva and me. When she’s convinced both of us are curious enough, she continues. “Katja got so worked up that she called Devon’s sister to check whether she knew what happened.”

“Ellie? She spoke to Ellie?”

Mortification grips my chest as I imagine how that conversation must’ve gone down.

“Yes, they spoke while I was there. And guess what? His sister not only confirmed to Katja—and me, given that I was listening closely—that Devon didn’t hook up with his ex…but she also revealed what really happened with that Hayley chick. All the dirty details.”

My diaphragm contracts so abruptly I almost slip from my chair.

“Is Hayley Devon’s ex-assistant? What about her?” Eva is gripping Chelsea’s wrist as if it will bring my roomie to spit out the truth faster.

“Nothing happened with her,” Chelsea replies, and