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

Chapter 38

(Laia)

I pull the clips from my hair with a discouraged sigh.

I wish Chelsea were here. Or Eva…

That was my third try at a twisted up-do, but I’m giving up. I can’t tame my mane into any style other than a ponytail, a braid, or a messy bun on my own, and none of those hairstyles are worthy of the fantastic dress my roomie picked for me.

Maybe I should leave my tresses loose?

I glance into a mirror to check and run my fingers on the skirt’s fabric, which is slippery and soft.

Yes, not bad at all. I actually like what I’m seeing, which is a rare happening for me.

The silhouette of this dress plays up my strong features as Chelsea anticipated it would, while it also graciously hides almost everything I feel unsure about.

Let’s hope Devon will like it, too.

Faint music reaches my ear, and I walk to my private balcony and peer outside. I must be in the wing located just above the gala hall because the jazzy tunes floating from below are exceptionally clear.

Despite the upgrade—and boy, if my suite isn’t fabulous! Starting with the indigenous-inspired textiles, the amazing natural materials and earth tones, and ending with the magnificent canyon view I can enjoy from my terrace, it’s all like in a dream—I was sorry when Devon announced that we’re sleeping on different floors.

I’d already started to fantasize about how it would be to sleep, knowing that just a thin wall separated us.

The rational part of me, however, knows that some breathing space from Devon is a blessing. I still don’t know what he wants from me, and even if I have my hopeful suspicions, it’s better to safeguard as much clarity as possible when we’re together.

Especially now that his ex-fiancée has turned up in the hotel without her husband.

Devon seemed sincere when he said he didn’t care about Morgan being here. Still, her presence disturbs the blossoming confidence in my chest.

The melody from downstairs changes to a groovier rhythm, and its upbeat tone lifts my mood.

I raise my chin and let my eyes feast on the lush greenery below.

Besides the Wild Burrow Canyon, my suite also faces the hotel’s garden. Although calling it simply a garden doesn’t do justice to the enormous green landscape that hosts an extended parterre, a life-size chess set, and a beautiful rose field. They must invest a lot of time and considerable resources to keep these plants alive despite the heat and dryness of the surrounding desert.

Memories from our stroll in the park surface in my mind, and my pulse immediately pumps harder in my veins.

Our afternoon was magical. Devon showed me the surrounding area on foot, and we also made a quick drive to visit a nearby spring. We spoke and joked like real friends, but there were definitely sizzles between us.

I can’t wait to see how tonight will evolve.

With this thought in mind and nerves dancing a jig in my stomach, I hurry back into my room.

I slip on my sandals, the only genuinely high-heeled pair I possess. I’ve had them for a long time, but it’s the first time I’m actually wearing them.

Should I happen to dance with Devon—which I may or may not have fantasized about this afternoon—I’d like to be able to peer up at him without straining my neck.

My feet waver as I find my balance on the beige carpet. If I really can’t stand the pain in my toes later tonight, I can always sneak upstairs and change into my flats.

I exit my room and head toward the elevator, while I pre-savor the vision of how I’ll lean on Devon’s arm and sway to a romantic song with him.

Chapter 39

(Devon)

I enter the large hall hosting the gala and scan the crowd for Laia.

Respecting the event’s laid-back style, and emphasizing the spirit that creative people aren’t stuck-up businessmen, there aren’t any fixed table arrangements. Instead, the hotel created a large sitting corner from comfy leather couches and plush armchairs. There are low stands scattered around, where one can easily place the food that is served in the sumptuous buffet lining the wall next to the entrance.

Laia isn’t anywhere.

I’d considered walking up to her room and knocking before coming downstairs, but then I recalled how Ellie used to hate being rushed when dressing.

The ambiance lighting in the room is a mélange of bright pink and silver spotlights. It harmonizes with the open bar’s design, which has a large shelf filled with sleek candles in the shade of cotton candy.

The barman is busy mixing cocktails, all his movements visible thanks to the counter’s glass planes.

My eyes drift further because I’m not looking for a drink, nor do I want to offer one to Laia.

She was the most adorable tipsy person, and I liked the bold, uninhibited way she spoke to me, but I’d prefer to achieve the same ease in her without the help of an external substance. Using only my words and actions.

There’s a large but relatively low stage close to the terrace door, and the musicians are already playing.

I’m happy about the choice the organizers made. The members of Pale Blue Mornings are talented folks. I had the pleasure of listening to them one night at Jimmy’z. I’m sure they’ll delight us with relaxing blues and jazz songs—just the kind Laia and I like.

That’s, if she finally gets here…

Someone taps my shoulder, and my heart jumps into my throat.

There she is…

An almost foolish smile spreads on my face but freezes on my lips when I turn.

“Ah, Morgan. It’s just you.”

Disappointment drips from my voice, and it doesn’t miss Morgan’s attention.

“Just me?” Morgan lifts a brow. “Who were you hoping it was? That mousy colleague of yours?”

“What right do you have to call her mousy?” I snap.

Morgan shrugs. “Because she’s dull, isn’t she? I wonder what she’ll put on tonight. Probably a pantsuit or something.”

She adjusts her strapless black evening gown that has a steep cut on