Law #2: Don’t Play with a Player
Laws of Love Series
Agnes Canestri
Contents
Gift to my Readers
OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Epilogue
Author’s note
OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR
About the Author
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OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR
Laws of Love Series
Law #1: Never Bet on Love
A billionaire. A salsa dancer. And a bet that might mean losing their hearts..
Go to: mybook.to/lol1
Law #2: Don’t Play with a Player
Is there any actual proof that mixing business and pleasure is a bad idea? Asking for a friend…
Go to: mybook.to/lol2
Law #3: Don’t Fall for the Athlete
He broke her heart. She won’t let him do it again...
Go to: mybook.to/lol3
Law #4: Don’t Trust the Bad Boy
She thought she knew what she needed in her life. Can this bad boy show her she might have she been wrong all along?
Go to: mybook.to/lol4
Cirella Bay Series
Big Flames & Small Lies
She thought nothing unexpected ever happened in Cirella Bay. Oh, how wrong she was…
Go to: mybook.to/cirella1
Dark Secrets & Sweet Kisses
Solving this small local mystery will be all fun and games. That’s if she can keep her heart safe from her sidekick’s —the snarky but handsome detective’s— charms…
Go to: mybook.to/cirella2
Gems of Love Series
Gems of Love BOXSET
All five books in one collection. The BEST DEAL on the series. Go to: mybook.to/gol-boxset
Loving the Boss
It could be her fresh start. If only she can avoid falling for her boss…
Go to: mybook.to/gol1
Gambling with the Billionaire
Love was never on the menu…
Go to: mybook.to/gol2
Fake-Dating the Single Dad
It was the perfect plan. Until their feelings turned all too real….
Go to: mybook.to/gol3
Saving the Brother’s Best Friend
It was only a simple favor between friends. Until it wasn’t…
Go to: mybook.to/gol4
Falling for the Undercover Agent
She was just a job. Until she wasn’t …
Go to: mybook.to/gol5
Other Books
Saving His Heart (Jackson & Hole Firefighters)
Rule #1: Don’t date a fireman.
Rule #2: Don’t fall for your best friend.
Rule #3: Never forget rules one and two
Go to: mybook.to/saving-his-heart
A Lesson in Love (Standalone forbidden love story)
Sometimes what’s forbidden can’t be ignored…
Go to: mybook.to/alessoninlove
Chapter 1
(Laia)
“I’ve found the perfect solution to all our problems, Laia!” Chelsea’s signature, over-the-top squeak reaches my ear before my bedroom door slams open, making the countless movie posters fastened to the wall with scotch tape flutter.
I peek up from the document that, despite my struggles of the past two hours, only contains two miserable lines.
She grins triumphantly with a copy of the local tabloid, Fancy & Stylish, clutched under her arm.
Ah, just as I thought.
My bestie can make the discovery of a trendy eyeshadow sound like she’s unveiled the secret to ending world famine. Her enthusiasm is part of her charm, really.
But, at this moment, I’m not ready to listen to whatever juicy celebrity gossip may go viral on her FabGal YouTube channel. I’ve barricaded myself in my room for an excellent reason. To avoid any distractions.
And that includes Chelsea’s news.
“Are you doing your applications?” she asks.
“Uhm, yeah,” I mumble, turning my laptop screen away so Chelsea can’t peer at the content.
I feel guilty for saying that I’m busy with my job search, when, in reality, I didn’t send out any resumes today.
Chelsea gives me a suspicious glare.
Her green eyes have a slight dropping on the outer corners, which might be considered a flaw by some, but my roomie knows exactly how to turn this feature into an advantage. She enhances her eyes with a black pencil so masterfully that she builds a glance that’s powerful and intriguing at the same time.
“You started that crazy bucket list thing you mentioned at dinner yesterday, didn’t you?” she says.
Busted!
“Maybe.” I keep my eyes on my screen.
If I don’t make eye contact, Chelsea might just leave.
My roomie refuses to take notice of my not-so-subtle hint and totters toward my bed. She zigzags between the stacks of books and heaps of papers scattered on the floor.
“I don’t get it, Laia,” she grumbles, almost tripping over a collection of hardcover Jane Austen classics. “You’re neat with our kitchen, but your room looks like the national library after a bomb explosion.”
“My books have outgrown the bookshelf. I’ll buy a larger one, right after I reimburse Alicia.” I shrug.
Chelsea comes as close as the romances I’ve stacked in front of my bed will allow. Still a few feet away, she launches over them onto my pink bedcover.
The sudden weight shakes the bed and jiggles my laptop.
“Why don’t we sell some of your books on eBay and use the money to upgrade your wardrobe instead?” She picks up the copy of Success lies Within Us from my bed and wiggles it at me.
“We could start with this.” She blinks at the cover and reads the blurb aloud. “Acclaimed motivational guide the New York Times describes as the book that will unshackle anyone’s hidden potential…”
&nbs
p; I snatch the book from her hand and hide it behind my pillow. “You can’t sell this. I’m using it right now.”
Chelsea rolls her eyes. “You don’t need a book to tell you that when the poop hits the fan, people get drab…I could have told you that. And for less than sixteen bucks, which is what you spent on this guide.”
I shake my head. “It’s a bit more sophisticated than that. The author speaks about the ‘curse of the depleted heart chakra.’”
Which is definitely what I’ve got after the countless refusal letters.
Chelsea grimaces. “Just as I said, only in guru-ish mumbo jumbo. I don’t understand how this is supposed to help you find a job.”
I huff. “I explained to you yesterday. If I direct my energy on something I desire and can directly influence, hence nourishing my heart chakra, I’ll start to attract positive external events. Maybe even find employment…?”
I know the promise is too simplistic. And I didn’t miss out on the strong new-age flavor of the whole.
But I’m at my wit’s end, and thus I’m game to try out anything that might turn my stagnating life around.
“So, that’s why you’re writing a kissing book?” Chelsea asks.
“Yep. Starting a novel is a desire that I can actually act upon. After examining the list of things I hope to accomplish before I die, I found out that many of my aspirations are entirely out of my control. And, what’s worse, some have already passed their expiration date. Like number one, which would be, ‘Finding my soulmate before I’m twenty-four.’”
Chelsea gives me a dramatic eye-roll, but I ignore her and continue, “Anyway, writing a romance is still within my reach.”
It’s #3 on my list and a wish I’ve been harboring ever since I read “The Beauty and the Beast” as a child. And, best of all, I won’t need anything to pull it off except my laptop, some courage, and time. Thus, it might just be the right choice to start my heart energy flowing—or whatever it is that, according to the book, will happen.
Chelsea leans toward my screen and scans what I’ve written so far.
“That’s not a lot. Maybe instead of playing the aspiring novelist, you should put me in charge of your future. If you haven’t paid attention, I’ve got a terrific idea.”
I bite my tongue to stop myself from asking about her enigmatic statement. She’ll reveal her grandiose plan even if I don’t ask. Her chin is already quivering from a desire to blurt it out.
By ignoring her, I’m repaying her for her dismissive comment about my efforts to jumpstart my future.
Chelsea knows very well that if I can’t score a suitable job soon, or any paid employment, I’ll need to ask Alicia for money again.
And I’d rather not do that.
I’ve been borrowing from my sister for the past four months. Alicia doesn’t purposely make me feel bad about helping me out. She’s a good sport about it, considering I can’t even give her a ballpark idea for when I’ll be able to pay her back. But she never misses out on reminding me that if I’d only followed her advice—and in her footsteps—I’d be building my dental practice right now, instead of trying to repackage my Master’s in Comparative Literature as a palatable option for companies that couldn’t care less about who I am.
Chelsea gives me a calculating gaze and smooths down blonde hair that she must have freshly hot-ironed, because her locks are frizz-free. I don’t comprehend why her tresses never dry out. She washes them each day, treats them with all the tools that are claimed to ruin hair structure, but her mane is still soft and shiny.
If I tried straightening my black waves even once, I’d end up with a bunch of hay.
“You know what?” Chelsea scoffs. “I’m just going to tell you about my plan.”
I knew she wouldn’t last long.
I hit save on my document, so that the fifty precious words I’ve squeezed out of my brain won’t get lost, and then shut my laptop.
“So, what’s this big announcement?”
Chelsea takes a deep, theatrical inhale. “I figured out how you can pay the rent without needing a dime from your sis.”
I straighten from my stooping, cross-legged pose and pivot my chest to her. “How?”
“Huh!” A gloating smirk appears on her lips. “I see I’ve got your attention.”
I bet she did. “Chels, don’t beat around the bush! Did your father agree to help us out?”
Chelsea scrunches her nose and a small wrinkle forms above her upper lip. It makes her look like a scornful seven-year-old, which is her default facial expression when she talks about her dad. “No, unfortunately. He’s still unimpressed by my social media followers and wants me to get a job. Until I do, I’m on a tight leash and can’t make any requests.”
Chelsea’s father, Mr. Anderson, financed his daughter’s business degree and paid our rent as long as Chelsea was still studying. But when he saw that Chelsea was unwilling to enter the “real world,” as he calls it, he decided to withdraw his support.
“It’s okay.” Chelsea pats my thigh and puts the tabloid on my lap, opening it to the central page. “We’ll let my dad have what he wants, while doing something good for you and me.”
I stare at the photo of a handsome dark-haired man, who appears to be coming out of a nightclub with a gorgeous blonde. The man is holding a hand against the camera lens as if he doesn’t want his picture taken.
I throw a questioning glance at my friend. “Why are we looking at this?”
“This…” Chelsea taps her French-manicured nail on the man’s face. “Is Devon Griffin. He’s the owner and CEO of Hudson Communications.”
The guy doesn’t look like a businessman in his button-down red shirt and casual black blazer. He looks more like a movie star…or a carefree playboy, especially with that all-legged bombshell clinging to his arm.
But the name Hudson Communications rings a bell. It’s a middle-size advertising agency that’s been on the rise since it was founded.
And no wonder. They make super fresh and bold campaigns.
“I adored their commercial for rainbow candies that you used for your marketing case study in your thesis,” I say.
“Duh, as if I didn’t know.” Chelsea gives me a knowing look. “Ever since, you sort those sweets by color before munching on them.”
Chelsea’s right. I do.
But the little girl in their video was too cute, and her gestures stuck in my mind.
“I wasn’t aware that Hudson Communications has such a young director,” I mutter.
“And hot!” Chelsea moans and brushes her thumb over Devon Griffin’s contours.
I scan the article.
My only superpower is to read fast, so in less than thirty seconds, I finish the double-page spread discussing the CEO’s take-no-prisoners, life philosophy and countless affairs.
“Is the creative genius having a new fling?” I read the headline out loud and make a bemused snort. “What a question. I say, who cares?”
“I do. And you should too, because this article is my inspiration to solve our money issues.” Chelsea gives me a crooked smirk.
I knit my eyebrows. “What does this guy, and his assumedly busy but shallow love life, have to do with us?”
Chelsea snaps her fingers. “I’m glad you asked. After reading this article, I went on the company’s home page to check out the hunky director better. I discovered that his firm has recently opened three well-paying internships across their various departments. I sent our resumes and—”
“You did what?” I exclaim. “How do you even have my resume?”
“I picked up a printed copy lying around on your floor while you showered and scanned it. I didn’t want to tell you about this opportunity, in case we didn’t get invited to the interviews. I know how badly you take refusals, sweetie.”
I kneel up so my body is positioned toward my friend. “Are you saying we’ve got an interview? Both of us?”
“Yessss!” Chelsea stretches the last sound while wiggling he
r brows at me.
“But, Chels, how is this possible? I don’t have a business or marketing degree.”
“No, you don’t.” Chelsea grins. “But you’re great with words. You make the drollest metaphors. I sent them two articles you did for the student newspaper, and they must have liked them.”
“That was sneaky.” Admiration tints my voice, because the idea of including writing samples in my unsolicited applications never occurred to me.
Chelsea thrusts out her chest and pats herself on the shoulder. “It was, right? The interviews take place on Monday morning at nine. What do you say, do you love me or what?”
My heart leaps. This nourishing heart chakra really does work. I only just started my romance novel this morning, and the stars are already aligning in my favor.
“This is awesome. No, you’re awesome. Thanks for thinking of me, too.”
Law #2: Don't Play with a Player: A Sweet Office Romance Story (Laws of Love) Page 1