I yank the door open.
“Laia!” From the over-zealous accent I didn’t intend to have, I know it’ll be a fierce battle to play down my actual feelings for her today.
Sooner or later I’ll have to confess to her that I don’t only like her.
Laia’s eyes dart to my chest, then her eyes scan the room behind me. “Are you alone?”
“Yes, of course,” I reply cheerfully. “I’m just getting ready for breakfast.”
“Well, start with putting on a shirt, will you?” she answers in a very efficient, assistant-like manner.
“Don’t like what you see?” I wink playfully but shove my head through the blue polo’s neck. After I’m done putting it on, I blink at Laia.
Her expression is perplexed, as if my previous comment bothered her.
Oh no, I hope she didn’t think I was trying to tempt her about her resolution…
“I’m sorry, Laia, I was just joking with you. I’m in too much of a good mood after yesterday night, you know.”
“I can imagine,” she murmurs, but her glance, despite being directed at my face, seems to travel through me instead of actually seeing me.
Why is she acting like a robot around me?
“What happened to you?” I ask, not even trying to hide the concern in my voice. “Where did you leave the giddy young woman I kissed good-night?”
My phrase seems to break through the spell, because her features reanimate.
“May I come in?” she says.
“Of course,” I respond, feeling like an idiot for not inviting her in.
As Laia walks inside, I notice she has her carry-on with her. The grey suitcase had been hidden from my view by the jamb.
“Why do you have your stuff with you?”
Laia rolls her luggage to the brown table beside the fridge, then turns to face me. “Because I came to tell you good-bye.”
“What?” My brows reach my hairline.
“I said, I came to greet you in a farewell kind of way. I’m taking the bus back to Phoenix,” she announces in a calm but emotionless voice.
Her eyes are fixed on my chest.
I launch forward and grab her shoulders. I hold her firmly until she’s forced to peer up at me.
“What’s this all about, Laia? Why are you acting like last evening didn’t happen? And why do you want to leave?”
Laia stares at me, the yellow dots in her irises shimmering like small fireballs. “Devon, I’m sorry, but this—whatever it is you think we have between us—isn’t going to work.”
My heart drops.
“Why would you say that?”
Laia sucks in a breath. “Let me answer your question with another question. Were you alone last night?”
“Yes, of course.”
Laia’s eyes flutter shut, and she shakes her head. “At least you could have the decency to tell it straight to my face.”
“Tell what?” I snap at her, irritation bubbling up in my chest from her unreasonable behavior. But just as the words leave my lips, a suspicion awakens in me.
“You know about Morgan? How?”
Laia opens her eyes and they glimmer with a deep sadness. “It doesn’t matter. But I know you invited her over after you took me to my room. And to think, I fell for your I-don’t-care-about-my-ex act…”
The disappointment in her words slaps me so hard I forget to protest her conclusion’s erroneousness.
Laia takes my silence as a sign of admitting my guilt because she nods. “I should have known better. But I wanted to believe you could change. That you could leave your past behind. You know why, Devon? Because I don’t only like you—I’m in love with you.”
“You’re in love with me?” I jerk back, unable to process the full meaning of her words. But after a second, a euphoric grin spreads on my face. “That’s wonderful news, Laia because I—”
Before I can finish, Laia’s palms whack me hard on my chest. “I’m not interested in hearing another lie or sweet-talking from you. What is it with you, anyway? Do you have a craving for getting what you can’t have? Is that why you tried your charms on me?”
“No, Laia! I truly meant what I said last night—”
Laia’s eyes narrow, and she squeaks, “I don’t believe you.”
“But I do,” I insist.
“Liar!” Laia is almost screaming now. Her body angles away from me with a rigid posture. “Stop playing with me!”
Desperation and irritation are splintering my heart in equal measures.
Dang it! This is not how I envisioned admitting to her what I feel.
A frenzied wish to make Laia see the myriad of profound things I harbor for her overhauls me. I need to make her see how wrong she is about my feelings. But how can I do that if she won’t listen?
Laia exhales loudly and bites on her lower lip.
With her gesture, I have my answer.
I reach out and cup her face. “You don’t believe me? Then at least believe this.”
I haul her closer with a brisk movement and press my mouth on hers with an urgent moan.
She tries to resist at first. Her hands flex against my shoulders, pushing me to back off, but her fingers don’t have real power.
Almost as if only half of her heart is in her refusal.
This gives me hope that the other half wants exactly what I want.
I steel my hold on her jawline, paying attention not to grip her delicate bones too forcefully.
My lips launch into a demonstration of my devotion to her, which she stubbornly refuses to acknowledge.
After a few seconds, her resistance softens, and then it ceases entirely. Her arms fall to her side, and her lips open up for me. I slide my hands to her nape and squeeze her closer to my chest.
The bright sunlight filtering through the window disappears, and so does the humming of the room’s AC. There’s nothing else but Laia’s hot breath, soft skin, and my pulse that slams in her heartbeats’ rhythm.
We’re lost in a hungry exchange of breaths, but all too soon, Laia pulls back.
She wiggles free from my embrace.
Her breathing comes in short pants, and her cheeks are flushed. Her lips are swollen from my nibbling, but her eyes burn with an angry flame. “Why did you have to do this?”
“To prove to you that I love you,” I murmur sheepishly.
Laia shakes her head. “You only proved that you desire me. But that’s not love. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have made a booty-call to your ex right after dropping me off.”
My jaw sinks. “You think I slept with Morgan?”
“Well, didn’t you?”
“No, I did not.” I control the outrage in my voice, even if Laia’s assumption stings.
She shrugs, and with this subtle movement, her sullen attitude melds into a quiet resignation. “It’s hard for me to believe, given that you arranged for Morgan’s room to be right next to yours.”
My throat dries out, and no words come out.
“Also…” Laia squares her shoulders. “I heard the story about your former assistant, Hayley. That you fired her because she fell in love with you while you only wanted a fling with her? Would this have been my destiny, too?”
The mention of Hayley snaps me out of my self-induced impotence. “Laia, I said I loved you. Why do you think I would say that?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know. Maybe because you thought that’s what I’d need to hear to jump into your bed?”
I narrow my eyes. “Where did you even hear this nonsense about Hayley and me?”
“From someone at the company. I didn’t want to believe it at first. I told myself it was mean-spirited gossip, nothing more. But after what happened between us, and between you and Morgan…I’m not so sure anymore.”
My stomach churns. “You said last night that you knew I was more than just a player. That you saw more in me.”
Laia’s chin quivers. “Yes, I did. But maybe I was mistaken.”
Her words cut deep into my sou
l like sharp blades.
I could contradict her on all of her accusations. I didn’t sleep with Morgan. I never touched Hayley.
And I certainly didn’t tell Laia about my love to get into her panties.
So then why don’t I argue my case?
Maybe because of the way Laia is staring at me. With her brows furrowed and her lips in a hard line, as if her belief in my flawed nature is unshakable. Or perhaps it’s because of my own plaguing doubts about my character.
Perhaps it was foolish to hope I could cancel out my past and deserve to be loved by someone as pure as Laia. To wish that Laia would ignore my previous mistakes and trust me.
“I’m sorry if this is what you think of me,” I murmur.
Laia’s eyes fill with tears. “I’m sorry, too.”
The sight of her sorrow is more destructive than any of her previous words. I don’t want to see her sad, and the realization that I’m the cause of her distress shreds my insides.
If I were to insist on my truth with Laia, I might convince her.
Would that be the best choice at this point? Am I really and truly the right one for her?
I know it in my bones that she deserves that—the best man who will make her happy.
But what if I’m not him?
The air escapes my lungs in a loud whoosh, as if I were tackled by Wyatt’s impressive frame during a high school football match.
But it’s the sobering truth that causes my ribcage to crash.
Maybe my greatest act of love for Laia should be to give her up.
Laia said she loved me, but maybe she has fallen into the same trap she accused me of. I know I’m not just attracted to her physically, because I have more than enough experience under my belt to see the difference.
But Laia does not.
What if her feelings for me are magnified by our potent chemistry?
If so, with me out of the picture, Laia could have a better chance of finding someone who’s pure like her.
Not a rotten apple like me.
I need to push Laia away. For good.
I capture her gaze. “You’re right, Laia. Perhaps once a player, always a player. I probably have a sick attraction to the boss-employee romance trope, despite the rules I impose in the company.”
Morgan’s recriminations taste foul on my tongue, but I continue anyway. “Also, I’ve been curious to see how someone so innocent like you would behave with someone like me. But it was a lapse of judgment from my part. You want, and clearly deserve, more than just a fling with me.”
Laia’s eyes widen.
It’s almost as if despite her flaring anger and fiery comments, she still held onto a straw of hope about my character, which I, with my answer, have set on fire.
“I think I’ll go now, Devon,” she mumbles, dropping her glance to the floor. Her voice is throaty with the sobs she must be biting back. “I’ll email you a formal resignation letter as soon as I get home.”
“Very well.” My words seem to float around me like they don’t belong to me.
That’s not what my heart wants to tell Laia.
But since this is what my brain needs to choose so she can be happy in the long run, I roll my hands into fists and watch Laia fetch her carry-on.
I open the door for her in a last gallant gesture, and she thanks me for it quietly.
“Live well, Devon,” she whispers before stepping out into the corridor.
I lean to the jamb, paralyzed and empty, as the weight of what I’ve just done settles on my shoulders.
I did a good thing for Laia, and this knowledge must be my consolation. But I also lost the person who managed to make me see the world differently and taught me what true love could feel like.
As I stare at her disappearing silhouette, I know the scar this good-bye will leave behind will stay with me forever.
Chapter 47
(Laia)
“Well, if this won’t cheer you up at least a little, I’m going to start to worry.” Eva dips a spoon in the chocolate fudge ice cream she brought me this morning and holds it out.
I shake my head. “No, thanks.”
Though the top layer is melted creaminess and the toffee splinters wink invitingly at me, my stomach won’t accept anything. My belly has been in a knotted, petrified state ever since I exited Devon’s hotel room.
Two days, six hours, and forty-three minutes ago.
Not that I’m counting. Or at least not consciously.
But my soul is frozen in that moment when Devon admitted I was but a dalliance for him—a game he played to satisfy his curiosity.
Eva arches her perfectly trimmed eyebrows, then lowers the spoon. She walks around our kitchen island and sits down beside me on a chair.
“Laia, querida, you need to eat something. You never refuse Tio Mario’s ice creams. They’re your favorites. That’s why I carried them in the cooler with me.”
I pat my cousin’s hand. “It’s so sweet of you to be here and babysit me while Chelsea is at work, but it isn’t necessary. You should get back to San Sebastian. To Nathan and to your school.”
Eva twirls a finger beside her temple. “¿Estas loca o que? Yeah, you must be crazy if you think I’d leave you alone with your heartbreak. Don’t you recall how you helped me through my rough patch with Nathan? No, querida, I’m here. I will stay as long as I need until you feel better.”
I recall the intervention I had to perform when Eva found out about her husband and his brother’s crazy bet about her back while they were still just dating.
But her situation then, and mine now, are entirely different.
“Eva, you were in a relationship with Nathan when all hell broke loose. My heartache compared to yours is just silly. It’s the fruit of stringing together my ludicrous hopes about Devon into a fantasy. I knew he was a playboy, and playboys aren’t interested in relationships, especially not with hopeless romantics like me. But that still didn’t stop me from dreaming.”
Eva pulls back her black tresses, almost as long as my own, into a ponytail and blows the air from her cheeks. “First of all, Laia, quit this self-blaming act. If anyone is to be chided, it’s your irresponsible boss. He should have never toyed with you if he didn’t have serious intentions. It was just mean of him. Even if…” Eva’s voice trails off in a meaningful way.
My eyes fly to her face.
She’s studying me with a calculating glance.
“Even if, what?” I ask, slightly irritated.
My cousin should know better than to play with my nerves and patience right now.
She inhales and shrugs. “Even if we need to consider the hypothesis that Devon lied to you about something entirely different.”
My mouth moves into a confused frown. “What are you even talking about?”
“Well…” Eva adjusts her pink blouse’s top button. “I’m just pointing out that the events you described to Chelsea and me don’t really add up. Why would Devon kiss you, spend the evening in a lovey-dovey mood with you, and hop into his ex’s bed? Why would he say he loves you and then deny the very statement in the same conversation?”
“Because he’s a player. He was just messing around with me.”
Eva narrows her eyes. “Do you really believe this?”
“Yes,” I blurt out, but there is an almost imperceptible shake in my snappy answer.
My mind drifts back to our last kiss.
I ignore the thrills that race through my veins at the memory of his lips, and focus on his last words before his mouth captured mine.
If you don’t believe me, then believe this…
Eva brushes back a string of hair behind my ear. “You see, querida, you yourself have doubts about what went down with Devon. If you learned anything from mine and Nathan’s example, then it should be that things aren’t always as straightforward as ‘I love you, and you love me’. Or better, in the quintessence, it’s always that simple. But we are often too wrapped up in our messy realities and ghosts of the pa
st to accept and admit our feelings for what they are.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “I did recognize what I felt for Devon. I was even enough of a dimwit to tell him.”
“Perhaps.” Eva bobs her head. “But at the first shadow of a doubt, you backed out on him. Which kind of proves my point. You’re stuck in your own inferiority complex and self-doubt, as well as being a prisoner of your unrealistic aspirations about Prince Charming.”
My nostrils flare. “You’re the one who told me I shouldn’t settle for anything but my own fairy tale. You even gave me that mug to remind me of that.”
Eva chuckles. “I did. But you can have a fairy tale with someone who isn’t perfect like Prince Charming. Someone who has a tormented past.”
“I know that,” I growl, “but is it too much to ask that the man who drops me off after the most incredible evening I’ve ever had doesn’t run straight into another woman’s arms?”
Eva ignores my annoyed tone and, instead, leans forward. “Are you absolutely certain it was Devon who invited his ex to his room? That they did anything except talk? She wasn’t there in the morning, was she?”
“No. She was not. But I’m sure—”
Eva holds up her hand. “Didn’t you say, and I quote, ‘He even had the nerve to ask me with a genuinely baffled expression whether I thought he’d slept with his ex’?”
“What if I did?”
Eva shakes her head. “Don’t you think Devon was bewildered because you accused him wrongly?”
“That can’t be.” I tap my hand on our table with a loud thump that also hurts my palm. Eva only smiles at me coyly as I rub the tender spot with my thumb.
“Can’t it?”
Her provoking tone bothers me, but I have to admit her reasoning isn’t entirely off. If I’m honest, Devon’s horrified expression when he asked me if I believed he’d been with Morgan was a detail I glossed over, and each time, it confused me. I explained his reaction by blaming his potential shock that I exposed his double game.
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.
Law #2: Don't Play with a Player: A Sweet Office Romance Story (Laws of Love) Page 29
