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

by Agnes Canestri

  Chapter 43

  (Devon)

  I kick off my shoes and take off my black jacket. I drop it on the large queen bed and throw myself down beside it.

  I stare at the white ceiling and listen to the water gurgling in the pipes within the walls. Even this banal noise is music to my ears, due to the caffeine-like, happy buzz coursing through me.

  This night couldn’t have been any better if I’d prayed for it to happen. I not only managed to confess to Laia that I can’t consider her a mere employee anymore, but learned that my gut wasn’t deluding me. My hunch about her interest in me was spot on.

  Accompanying Laia to her room and leaving her there without asking to be invited in was harder than I would’ve thought. Probably because she got naughty and probed my resolution to be a gentleman with more than one toe-curling kiss.

  Elation suffuses my chest as I ponder our time in the ballroom.

  If tonight is a preview of how Laia and I could be as a couple, we’re truly meant to be together.

  We had so much fun dancing, talking, and just being in each other’s company that the four-hour-long reception flew by in an instant.

  I smile as I realize tomorrow I’ll be able to reveal my surprise to Laia. I might’ve worried how she’d feel about spending two days alone with me in Tucson, but after tonight I’m confident that the quietness of the hotel will be to her liking.

  I sit up and unbutton my shirt. I take it off and let it fall on top of my jacket.

  I’ll get my clothes sorted out later. First, I want to check what kind of soft drinks I have in the minibar. I could really use a ginger ale or a tonic water.

  Just as the suction of the fridge gives in to the pressure of my grip, there’s a knock on my door.

  Maybe Laia wants to give me a last good night kiss?

  My heart skitters with sweet anticipation.

  In my most husky Chris Hemsworth imitation, which Ellie and her roomies claim could make reading out of a telephone directory sound sexy, I say, “Just a sec, I’ll be right there.”

  I grab my shirt to slip it on again, but then I decide against it.

  Two can play the cheeky tempting game.

  I know Laia’s self-restraint is probably stronger than mine, but I can still try and tease her a bit, no?

  Chapter 44

  (Laia)

  The door of the room beside Devon’s opens.

  I spot a room service cart containing someone’s untouched midnight snack. It’s been conveniently placed to my right side and is large enough to hide me. I quickly crouch down behind it on the floor. If I’m lucky, Devon’s neighbor will walk the other way and won’t spot me.

  Otherwise, I’ll have to pretend I just stepped out of a nearby room to collect my dish, instead of dawdling about in my nightwear. I peek out from behind the white tablecloth to check whether the air is clear.

  But to my surprise, it isn’t.

  A slender blonde stands in the corridor with her back to me.

  First, I think she’s still wearing her evening attire. At a closer look, I realize she’s dressed in a super sexy, probably costly, kimono—the kind Chelsea orders from Agent Provocateur whenever her father gives her a fat birthday envelope.

  Underneath the kimono, the woman has a long, silk nightie so fitted it would rip on my hips if I ever dared to try it.

  Huh, and I was afraid to look inappropriate in my top and pants!

  Just as the thought pops into my mind, the blonde turns, and I see her face.

  I freeze.

  Morgan is the guest who took my room? Why is she out here in her show-more-than-hide lingerie?

  Morgan’s next move answers both questions.

  She knocks on Devon’s door with a breezy movement, then pulls back her hand to her hip, shifting her lean legs into a flattering pose.

  Devon appears in the doorway.

  From the shadow cast by Morgan and the door, I can’t see his face, but I get a good glimpse at his bare torso and those muscles that made me speechless. My stomach shrinks to the size of an M&M.

  Do these two have a late-night date?

  It seems so because Morgan sashays forward and Devon moves back to leave her space to enter. The door slams shut behind her.

  I wait for a second in my hideout, then straighten with trembling legs. I press my back to the beige wallpaper, but I struggle to keep my posture on my wobbly knees, even with the support.

  That’s why he didn’t get upset with me for not sleeping with him…

  Devon wasn’t putting my needs in front of his own when he didn’t insist. He simply had another plan in mind for tonight.

  With his ex. The woman who betrayed him and whom he said he didn’t care for anymore.

  Didn’t care, my eye!

  I sprint back to the staircase, forcing my brain into an artificial numbness until I reach the safe harbor of my room. Once inside, I dash to the bed and lift the treacherous adviser that made me assume Devon’s behavior was a sign that he loved me. “Stupid, stupid book,” I exclaim and throw it against the door with all my force.

  It tumbles to the floor with a loud thud.

  I stare at its crumpled pages, then stagger over and place it on the table beside the door. As much as I want to blame a lifeless object for what happened, I know the fault lies with me. And me alone.

  How could I hope a player like Devon could change for me? Want me and nobody else?

  I shuffle back to the bed and slump down. I slide my hands up and down on the crisp, lavender-smelling sheets as a suspicious thought occurs to me.

  Maybe it was Devon who made the reception switch my room? It can’t be a coincidence that Morgan ended up sleeping beside him.

  Well, technically with him.

  The cynical voice makes me almost choke.

  I swallow and keep the wheels of my mind turning, though I know they’ll lead me down a painful path.

  If Devon upgraded me to the suite so Morgan could be close to him, then he must’ve decided to rekindle with her as soon as he saw her at the reception. A new wave of nausea hits me as I realize Morgan wasn’t at the gala tonight. At least I didn’t see her there.

  Maybe she and Devon made arrangements to only meet at night? This seems reasonable. The woman is married, after all. Perhaps she fears the scandal.

  But how can Devon accept to be with her after she stomped on his heart? Is it just a physical desire he has for her, or is he still smitten with his ex?

  What does this mean for me?

  Was I just a distraction to Devon? A warm-up for his night of passion with Morgan?

  The hungry glint in Devon’s eyes when he embraced me flashes through my mind, and I shudder.

  Whatever Devon’s reason for kissing me, it can’t be an honest interest in me. It was lust that I saw in his gaze—and only a temporary one at best.

  It can’t be more, given that he’s now in bed with Morgan.

  The sobs erupt from my throat with the violence of a volcano at this humiliating thought.

  I throw myself on the bed and let my tears free flow. I hug my torso and squeeze my eyes shut. What hurts most isn’t that Devon is still the playboy he claimed he didn’t want to be or that he might have feelings for his ex.

  No, the most painful part is the realization that even though Devon will never love me, my heart will belong to him forever.

  Chapter 45

  (Devon)

  “What are you doing here, Morgan?” I ask.

  Staying in place would mean I’ll be forced into close contact with her negligee-covered body, so I take the safer approach and back off a few steps.

  Morgan passes the threshold into my room and pulls the door shut behind her. “Do you know what I’m up to, Dev?”

  “No, but I reckon you’re about to go to sleep. That’s a nightgown you’re wearing.”

  This is not my best guess about why Morgan showed up here, but I hope if I pretend not to understand her real intentions, Morgan won’t actually spell
it out, and I won’t be forced to act like a jerk with her.

  “Indeed, it is. You like it?” Morgan purrs, and from the taunting way she wiggles her brows, I fear my feigned ignorance won’t save me from what’s about to come.

  She runs a hand on the contour of her see-through kimono, apparently unaware that my mind isn’t hung up on her figure.

  “It’s nice. A gift from Theo?” I ask.

  Morgan winces as I mention her husband’s name, and for a second, her gaze drops to the floor. Then she shakes her head and raises her chin again. “As a matter of fact, it is. But he didn’t even see it on me yet. No time between his many business trips.”

  The bitter edge of her voice is hard to ignore.

  I can see that Morgan is in a confused place right now. From what she told me about her marriage, she must not be particularly happy.

  But I’m not the solution to her boredom.

  My heart beats only for one woman, and she’s probably sleeping like an angel a few floors above me. But even in my most hardcore playboy days, I would have never considered fooling around with someone who was spoken for.

  I decide to be more explicit. “Morgan, I don’t claim to know why you came here to wish me good night in person. But I have the feeling you weren’t motivated by the right reasons. So…” I let my voice trail off, giving her the chance to back off with her dignity intact.

  Morgan eyes my bare chest—I curse myself for not putting on a shirt right away when I spotted her—and a weak smile plays on her lower lip. “Perhaps. But then again, perhaps not.” She tilts her chin up so her green eyes meet mine. “You know I’ve been angry with you here at the gala.”

  I snort. “I realized that. You stormed out on me in a rather dramatic way.”

  Morgan sighs, then lifts her shoulders and purses her lips in such a harmonious flow I wonder whether she practices this particular gesture in the mirror.

  “Well, what can I say? I’m not good at taking refusals. Also, I was shocked because you could never resist me in the past.” Her eyes drift to the ceiling.

  “Much has changed since we were together,” I murmur.

  Her gaze darts back to my face. “Yes, indeed. That’s what I realized once I was back in my room. I started thinking and arrived at the conclusion that I might’ve expected too much of you.”

  “Come again?”

  She runs a hand through her blond tresses. “I thought you were ready to settle down like that tabloid article suggested. But what if you aren’t? Being a playboy isn’t the worst thing in the world. I shouldn’t have chided you.”

  I could start a discussion with Morgan about how I’m not a playboy anymore. But any additional information I bring up may prolong her stay in my room, and I would prefer it if she left.

  I shrug. “Okay, thanks for this.”

  Morgan smiles. “No problem. Your preference for fleeting pleasure actually made me see an alternative solution for my problem. Maybe I don’t have to leave Theo. I just need to create some fun in my life, then it will be easier to handle my husband’s shortcomings.”

  “I’m glad you decided to salvage your marriage, Morgan,” I say, but I can’t help the cautious undertone in my voice.

  The new direction of Morgan’s thoughts seems as troublesome as her idea of getting back together with me.

  Morgan takes a step toward me. “So what do you say? Want to lend me a hand?”

  “In what exactly?”

  “Spicing up my life, of course.”

  “You leave me speechless with this offer,” I say while I think of the least brutal way of refusing her again.

  Morgan might’ve cheated on me in the past, but I also betrayed her.

  I didn’t love her the way I love Laia. Still, I acted as if I did.

  So for me, our scores are even. I wouldn’t take pleasure in hurting Morgan any more than necessary for her to realize that she and I are never going to happen.

  Morgan runs a finger on her collarbone. “We don’t need words. I’ll be satisfied if you put your mouth to a different use.” She launches forward, pressing her palms on my chest.

  I snatch her wrists and lower them gently but firmly to her side.

  “Morgan, I’m not interested in any of this.”

  She points at my empty bed. “But why? I could hear through the wall that you came back alone from the party. This means that seducing your mousy colleague didn’t turn out as you hoped.”

  “I’ve told you not to speak about Laia in these terms.” I keep my voice even but add a menacing edge to it.

  Morgan rolls her eyes. “As I said, I’m not here to judge. If you want to get into Laia’s pants because she has a certain schoolgirl charm, I’m not saying you shouldn’t. But tonight you won’t be able to. So why not take advantage of us being in a room together, away from the prying eyes? You used to be pretty crazy about me.”

  As I stare at her expression, which is an odd mix of self-confidence and self-doubt, an unexpected feeling settles in my chest.

  I’m sorry for Morgan.

  My ex clearly doesn’t know who I am or what I want, but I’m sure she doesn’t understand herself and her own wishes. That’s why she cheated on me in college, and that’s why she would be ready to betray her husband with me now.

  Not knowing your real needs is a dark place to be in.

  I should know. I wasted several years in this smug ignorance until Laia taught me that I need to change and have the power to do so. I ignore my initial flare of hostility that Morgan’s snarky remark about Laia triggered, and go for pure honesty.

  “Laia isn’t a lustful fantasy for me, Morgan. I love her. That tabloid article you read? It was right about me. I am ready to settle. With Laia.”

  Her jaw drops. “You love her? But she is short and so…plain.”

  “No, she isn’t plain. She’s witty, kind, and incredibly sweet. And she’s beautiful to me. Inside and out.”

  Morgan’s lips curl down. “So that’s a no for us then?”

  I nod. “Indeed. But it would’ve been even if Laia weren’t in my life.”

  “Huh, want to twist the knife of rejection deeper, huh?” Morgan asks with a hurt glint in her eyes. “Are you punishing me because I cheated on you? I thought you said you forgave me.”

  “I did,” I say. “I just meant that I’m not the same man I was in college, so I would turn down your offer anyway.”

  Morgan sniffs. “Certainly. In college, you loved slender, tall, and blonde. That’s clearly not your taste now.”

  Though her words are cynical and probably meant to vex me, I don’t get irritated because I see she’s only lashing out due to her hurt pride.

  I shake my head.” Morgan, I know you won’t restore the magic you miss in your marriage by hopping into bed with me, or with anyone else who isn’t your husband. I’ve been down the road of volatile pleasure. I never managed to fill the void in my chest with flings.”

  While one single kiss from Laia, the woman I love, gorged it entirely.

  This proves that the act of love without actual emotion only brings brief happiness at best.

  Morgan snorts. “Quite frankly, I would take volatile pleasure over no pleasure in a heartbeat. It’s not my fault Theo became dull. I won’t feel guilty for wanting to have fun while I’m still young.”

  Morgan needs to realize that her past actions led her to the present she’s living, and if she’s unsatisfied with her life, then first, it’s her who needs to change.

  Like Ellie told me, to find someone special, you need to start acting like you’re worthy of it.

  But I’m not the right person to teach Morgan this lesson, as I’m still just a student of it at best.

  Also, I have the feeling my ex isn’t ready to listen to such advice anyway.

  I cock my head toward the door. “Morgan, I think it’s best if you returned to your room now. We’ll pretend you were never here.”

  She works her jaw then nods. “Fine. But just for the record”—
she gives me a weak, bitter smile—“it’s still your loss.”

  “I know. But I can live with that.”

  Morgan snorts and, her chin high, sashays to the door and pulls it open. “Good-bye, Dev. Thanks for the…chat.”

  As the door shuts, I realize I’m the one who should’ve thanked her for this discussion.

  Talking with Morgan made me see even clearer how right the path I’ve chosen with Laia is.

  Rushing Laia wouldn’t only force her into something for which she isn’t ready yet, but it could leave me feeling empty. I would miss out on savoring each vital step on the way to really getting to know her.

  Yes, waiting for my love isn’t just the demonstration of my feelings to her as I first believed.

  No, it’s also for my own benefit.

  Chapter 46

  (Devon)

  The next morning, after a night spent with marvelous dreams, I’m ready to start the first official day of my relationship with Laia.

  I take a shower and proceed with shaving. I catch myself grinning foolishly in the mirror, but I can’t help it.

  The water has never felt so good on my skin, and no fluorescent bathroom light has ever shone this enchantingly. I’m aware that my exuberant mood might be distorting my perception of things, but I don’t mind it one bit.

  I pass the razor at least three times to make my chin extra-smooth. I wouldn’t want to irritate Laia’s soft skin with my stubble.

  I rinse my face and dab it into a white, fluffy towel. I put on a pair of dark jeans and am about to slide on my polo shirt when a loud knock echoes in the air.

  Afraid to be played again by Morgan, I tiptoe to the door and peek out though the keyhole.

  When I see Laia’s long black tresses dancing around her elbow—the only part of her body I’m able to peek at—my heart stutters.