Law #2: Don't Play with a Player: A Sweet Office Romance Story (Laws of Love) Agnes Canestri (reading eggs books txt) 📖

I’d promised myself I’d make her first days as easy as possible so she can adapt to her new responsibilities without feeling pressured, but Laia is already reaching for the stack. “I can take them. It’ll be a great way to jump into my role.” She peers up at me. “Do you like highlighters? I could signal the crucial insights with blue, the good-to-know bits with pink, and perhaps green for the superfluous can-be-skimmed-overs?”

Is she a mind reader? How did she guess the exact color scheme I like?

I can’t suppress an appreciative smile as I nod. “If you’ll prepare them that way, it would be perfect.”

Katja observes me with furrowed brows as if wondering why I’m grinning at Laia, then she snorts. “I didn’t have time to prepare your health cocktail yet, but I will soon.”

I cringe as the rancid stench of sauerkraut comes back to me. “This morning, I’d prefer a double espresso with one spoonful of sugar, if it’s not too much trouble.”

I say my polite words in a firm tone, so Katja will have no choice but to accept them.

Katja purses her lips. “Whatever you wish, Devon. I’ll bring it after I file the contract I’ve been working on.” Her vexed tone contradicts her agreement.

I suspect that my secretary secretly considers caffeine to be a legalized poison, because every time she brings me a cup, she does it with a grimace of dislike.

Laia gives a smile to Katja. “I wanted to check where the kitchen is. If you like, I can make the coffee while I’m at it.” As she sees Katja’s aghast expression, she quickly adds, “Just this once, so you can take your time with filing.”

I’m surprised by Laia’s kind offer and interested in my secretary’s response.

Katja used to defend her duties from Hayley with tooth and nail and would never allow my ex-assistant to replace her in any task, however small it might be.

Katja’s jaw relaxes, and she nods. “Great, that would be nice of you, Laia. We have a Breville One-Touch machine in the kitchen. Just press the button, and it will take care of the rest.”

“Easy-peasy, even for the rare species of non-coffee drinkers like you.” I wink at Laia.

A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth as I borrow her exact words from the interview. “I’ll do my best to make a decent cup, I promise.”

“Thank you,” I answer.

Laia steps over to her desk and puts down the documents that Katja handed to her. “I’ll be right back with it.”

When Laia is gone, Katja scratches her scalp, which makes her thick braids shimmy above her ears, and murmurs something under her breath.

“What’s the matter, Katja?”

She cocks her head to the direction where Laia went.

“Her. She’s…odd.”

Odd? Not the first word I’d associate with Laia’s swaying curves.

“Isn’t it just a bit weird?” Katja grumbles. “Yesterday she looked like she was dressed by her blind great-grandfather and today she’s the winner of Pimp Your Look. What’s her deal? Aren’t you concerned you’ll soon have another tricky situation on your hands?”

I shake my head, because I finally understand what she’s getting at. “No, no, don’t worry. Laia won’t be another Hayley. By the way…Pimp Your Look? I didn’t take you for a reality show junkie, my dear Katja. You just gave me ammunition for a good joke later.”

Katja wags her finger at me. “Don’t, Devon, or else I’ll fix you another sauerkraut juice. Don’t think I didn’t notice what you did with the one yesterday! Your rubber plant smelled like Shchi soup this morning.”

Luckily Katja’s phone rings and saves me from answering her (justified) accusation.

I walk to my office. I settle at my desk and fire up my computer. While I wait for my calendar and messages to sync, I keep peeking at the door to check whether Laia is coming with my coffee.

Only because I need caffeine before my brain can function properly.

Exactly. For no other reason than that.

Chapter 9

(Laia)

The kitchen on our floor is in a spacious corner room. It’s airy and absolutely streamlined.

After my small tour in the building yesterday, I shouldn’t be surprised that even this space is jammed with trendy fine points like the lacquered blue faucet and the warm-orange back splash behind the counter.

Despite these accents of color, what attracts my eyes immediately is the large, glazed window overlooking the city.

It’s not the grey skyline view that fascinates me, but the surrounding mountain preserve I’m able to peek at, thanks to our building’s height. I walk over to the window and stick my nose to the glass.

The saguaro-studded hillsides untie my mind from the looping thoughts about Devon and our strange chat in the elevator. I’m surprised that my colleagues don’t spend half of their days glued to the window, gazing at the desert.

Of course, if they did that, they would probably be fired. Like I’m about to be if I don’t get on with the coffee I promised Devon.

I trot over to the coffee machine that takes up a good portion of the steel counter.

It’s one of those fancy models. My fingers hover above the buttons.

Grrrr, easy peasy, my eye…

Is the double espresso the larger cup with one wavy line or the smaller one with two? Maybe it’s the simple cup with two dots but without any lines? And what about that weird form that looks like a ball? Could that be sugar?

I blow out the air from my cheeks and close my eyes.

As soon as my eyelids shut, Devon’s sweeping glance flashes through my mind, and my cheeks warm a couple of degrees.

I should have told him that if he genuinely wants to live by his rule of separating private life and work, he’d better stop giving his female employees dashing smiles and lingering looks.

They’re infuriatingly confusing.

I wish I could tell what he thought of my new clothes. While he was observing me, his brows were set in a confused frown and his lips in a small circle, but he’d arched his