Law #2: Don't Play with a Player: A Sweet Office Romance Story (Laws of Love)

by Agnes Canestri

  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 when she sees our widening eyes, she nods. “Nada, absolutely nothing. Devon let her go because she tried to seduce him one evening, and he didn’t wish to get involved with an employee. But he fixed her up with a new job at a different company. So he didn’t just put the gal out on the street, so to speak.”

  I stare at my roomie, my mouth hanging. “Are you serious?”

  Chelsea nods. “I heard Ellie say it, honey. I think you might have made a bit of a gaffe with Devon after all.”

  A gaffe?

  No, I made a disaster.

  “Oh, dear heaven. I accused Devon of being a liar and a boss with a fetish for his assistants…and none of that was true…” I bury my face into my hands.

  Eva rubs my back. “On the upside, cousin, it probably means that Devon actually loves you, like he said he did.”

  Devon loves me…

  Eva’s words hover in my brain like grains of sugar in a glass of water. The more I stir and turn them, the more they dissolve and seep into me, releasing a sweet gushiness I thought I could never feel again.

  My lips move into a smile. “You think he loves me?”

  Eva and Chelsea both nod.

  “The only question is,” Chelsea says, “why he decided to lie to you.”

  “It’s because I hurt him with my lack of faith in him,” I answer without hesitation, raising my head.

  As soon as the words make their way to my lips, I know they must be right.

  I’ve failed Devon. I impeached him when he was innocent. And all because I saw Morgan in a sexy nightgown enter his room. I accused him of being shallow, but the one who was shallow was me.

  Eva sighs. “Well, then we need to find a way to make him see that you believe in him.”

  “You’re right,” I mutter. “I have to speak to Devon and apologize for my prejudiced behavior. Even if he might not be interested in what I have to say. Maybe I’ve lost his interest for good…”

  Chelsea clicks her tongue. “Nonsense. The guy must be heartbroken like you were a minute ago. You think he won’t care if he learns that the woman he loves actually trusts him and wants to
be with him? I don’t think so.”

  Eva nods. “Indeed. I might’ve said I wasn’t interested in what Nathan had to say after I thought he betrayed my trust, but actually I was dying to hear that he loved me. You need to confess to Devon that you misjudged him and ask him to forgive you.”

  “Yes, but I don’t want to bother him at home or at work…”

  I’m only finding excuses. I’m chickening out over the possibility that I blew my chance with Devon.

  Chelsea grins. “I have the perfect solution. You call Ellie and convince her to take her brother out to dinner. Then you show up instead of his sister and boom! You have a gorgeous, cozy setting for your grand gesture.”

  Chelsea’s idea isn’t bad.

  Devon could just ignore the doorbell once he sees it’s me at his doorstep or at work. He could duck into a meeting. But in a restaurant…

  I jump up and scurry to my phone charging on the kitchen counter and lift it. “I’m going to do this,” I say while already clicking on Ellie’s number.

  “Don’t pick Italian though,” Chelsea warns me. “You can’t make a love confession while eating spaghetti or dripping from pizza sauce. My tip is sushi, clean, quick, and a bit of sake that will loosen your inhibitions.”

  “Sushi, got it.” I flash a smile at my roomie.

  If my day, and perhaps my life, turns around, it will be entirely thanks to her and her big mouth. I’ll have to excuse myself for rebuking Chelsea for her indiscretion.

  But first, I need to concentrate on making my apology to Devon.

  Let’s hope he’ll forgive me for being such a dork…

  Chapter 48

  (Devon)

  I silence my vibrating phone and take another sip from my drink.

  “Shouldn’t you answer Ellie’s call?” Pete asks me with a concerned glance.

  “Nah, she surely wants to speak to me about how stupid I’ve been with Laia, and I’m in no mood for such a chat. I want to forget and have fun.”

  I wave toward the stage where Harry, the pianist I jumped in for, is playing a soul fusion song.

  Pete tilts his head to the side, and his hair, combed into a carefree coif tonight, bounces from his movement. “Man, I understand the advantages of the head in the sand strategy. I do. I’m usually all for it. But in this case, I—”

  “Shhh.” I press my finger to my lips. “Not another word about what happened. It was my conscious decision to lie to Laia, and I did it to make her happy.”

  Deep heart-to-hearts aren’t Pete’s forte. He must feel strongly about my behavior, because, despite his usual that’s-just-life attitude, he shakes his head.

  “You said Laia friggin’ cried. That’s not a sign of joy. Also, your idiotic fib is making you miserable, dude!” Pete shifts uncomfortably on his barstool. “Dev, I’ll give it to you straight. You made a colossal blunder. It’s hogwash that Laia will be better off without you. Especially if she’s in love with you.”

  I twirl around on my chair and lean my back to the bar’s counter.

  And here I was hoping that by avoiding Ellie, I could escape the sneaky, self-blaming inner voice that’s been insulting me ever since I got back from Tucson. The one that suggests I took the easy way out. That my giving up on Laia wasn’t a noble gesture, but the manifestation of my ultimate fear of commitment.

  Now it seems that I’ve unwittingly signed up for Pete’s rescue mission.

  My buddy also turns to the stage and kicks the flooring with his brown brogue. The ground is paved with black-and-white stones that mimic piano keys. On each dark strip, the name of an iconic jazz singer is engraved, and Pete’s sole is currently pestering Nat King Cole.

  “I’d like to give you a piece of good advice, but I’m not much of a love guru, pal,” Pete tells me in a pensive voice. “Heck, I probably know less about women than I’d like to.”

  I tap his shoulder. “What do you mean? Your house has more female visitors than the White House.”

  Pete flashes me a lopsided grin. “That much is true. But you know as well as I do that I don’t deal with hearts. A bit like Wyatt, though his reason is his ambition, while my excuse is the sheer joy I find in non-commitment. In all cases, I’m not well-equipped to guide you. But”—he lifts his finger—“I do know one thing. If I ever happen to find a woman I fall in love with, I won’t care what has happened in my past. I won’t let any paranoia about having been a womanizer spoil my bliss. I’ll just concentrate on my future with her.”

  My eyes dart to Pete. I didn’t expect him to say something this profound.

  He winks at me. “I haven’t found my special one, yet, of course. But you get what I mean? You ought to put things right with Laia. Don’t take away her choice about whether you’re good enough for her. Let her decide. I think if she knew the truth, she’d—”

  “Here you are, you wacko! Why won’t you pick up when I call?” Ellie storms over to us, panting.

  Her bun is in unusual disarray, and her cheeks are flushed as if she’d been running. Her untypically disheveled look makes me think Jimmy’z might not be the first place she so tempestuously searched for my presence.

  As if to confirm my suspicion, she says, “I’ve been to your house, in your gym, checked the supermarkets you usually go to…and even went to that horrid Red Heaven club where the hairy bouncer tried to hit on me. Yuck!”

  I give her a soothing smile. “Here I am. It’s Friday.”

  Ellie taps on her forehead. “Shoot, why didn’t I think of that? I just figured this would be the last place you’d come, considering that last time you were here was with…”

  She breaks off and gives me an alarmed glance.

  “Laia. You can say her name. Pete’s been chewing my ear about what a dullard I’ve been anyway, so your complaints won’t spoil my evening.”

  Ellie shakes her head. “We don’t have time for this, Dev. You need to come with me.”

  “Come with you? Where?”

  Ellie’s eyes move to the counter, to Pete’s shoes, then back to my face. “Uhm, dinner.”

  “I already had a sandwich, but thanks.”

  Ellie stares at me. “I don’t care. You’re coming with me,” she says, then grabs my arm. “Sorry, Pete, but we have to bail on you.”

  Pete chuckles. “Don’t worry, I’m getting the hang of that lately. I’ll just go upstairs with you and then drop by the Red Heaven. The hairy bouncer definitely won’t hit on me, but the cute redhead who serves the drinks might.”

  He stands up and throws a few bills on the bar for our drinks.

  Ellie pulls on my arm. “Come on, Dev, we’re going to be late.”

  “Late for what?”

  “For dinner,” she repeats slowly and articulately as if I have trouble hearing.

  “I’ve already told you I’m not hungry. I’d rather stay and listen to Harry play another few tunes.”

  Ellie’s grip doesn’t soften on me. “Devon Griffin, stand up right now and walk with me. Or else I’m going to…” She thinks for a moment, then her face illuminates. “…go out and use that lipstick knife you discredited so much on your beloved Audi’s gloss.”

  My jaw drops at her blunt threat, but I straighten. A suspicion that wherever we’re going Laia will be there spreads in my chest and my heart rate picks up. “Okay, fine. I’m coming with you. But you’re behaving like a nutcase, you know that, right?”

  Ellie grins. “I know. But let’s go now. We’re already way too late.”

  Late? So there is indeed an appointment with Laia?

  Panic grips my stomach. I don’t want us to miss Laia. As every fiber of my body lights with the desire to see her again, I realize just how big of a lie I’ve been telling myself these past days.

  I can never let go of Laia. I love her—more than life itself.

  I grab Ellie’s arm. “Then let’s hurry up, sis,”

  I pull her to the staircase so fast that Pete struggles to keep pace with us, which is something because his legs are longer
than mine.

  My gut is lodged in my throat as we mount the stairs and my heart hums with a mix of fear and anticipation.

  If Laia agreed to play along with Ellie, then maybe it’s not too late to correct what Pete called the biggest blunder of my life?

  Chapter 49

  (Laia)

  I’m pacing like a hunted animal on the restaurant’s terrace.

  Ellie told me to be here at nine, but it’s already nine-thirty.

  Why are they late? Maybe she blabbed to Devon about my plan, and he decided not to come?

  A waiter with impeccably slicked-back hair comes up to me, for the third time since I’ve arrived. His red-and-black waiter uniform makes him look more like a karate master instead of a server. Or maybe it’s the impassive, I’m-at-peace-with-the-world expression with which he observes me—I can’t quite decide.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come inside and take a table, Miss?” he asks in a polite voice.

  I take another peek at my watch. Another five minutes have passed.

  Devon isn’t coming…

  A bitter tang fills my mouth, but I force myself to plaster on a smirk I don’t feel. It isn’t the waiter’s fault that I single-handedly ruined everything with Devon. I might never be at peace with myself due to my brainless, mistrustful action, but I can at least pretend I know how to answer a stranger in a socially acceptable manner.

  “No, I think I’ll just go. It’s a nice restaurant, though. Your sashimi and nigiri look excellent from what I could see through the glass. Lots of tuna. The spicy kind, which is good. I like spicy.”

  The man is either trained well, or politeness is simply coded in his DNA. Either way, he ignores my obviously embarrassed jabber and the maniacal way I’m picking my nails and nods.

  “It would be our pleasure to welcome you at Kona Grill anytime you like, miss.”

  I wave to him and walk down from their terrace to the small street where the restaurant is located.

  I had Chelsea drop me off, hoping my evening might end on a positive note with Devon. Now I’ll need to take the bus home.