Law #1: Never Bet on Love: A Sweet Billionaire Love Story (Laws of Love)

by Agnes Canestri

  Nathan points at his car. “Anyway, I think that’s enough semantics for a day, no? What do you say we get going? I have some fun planned for us at my place, but I know you have to be back at the Desert Rose by seven.”

  I nod, surprised that he keeps my work schedule in mind, wondering what fun he might be referring to and secretly sorry that he has dismissed the conversation about our dating so easily. Despite chickening out before asking him, it would have been great to shed light on what he meant by “for now”. Is it “for now” because we are going somewhere from here? Somewhere more? Or because it’s just a quick stop before our roads part again?

  Nathan puts out his hand. “Ready to go?”

  I put my palm into his. “Ready.”

  A warmth from his skin sweeps to my arm, and his touch feels thrilling and familiar at the same time. Perhaps it isn’t bad that we’ve gotten rid of that fake “friends” tag. Dating can turn into anything. So if, and only if, I feel certain that Nathan has serious intentions with me…then…maybe then…

  A smile spreads on my lips. Perhaps I got a small share of Abuelita’s dreamy genes after all.

  Chapter 21

  (Nathan)

  I pace up and down in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of my living room. I must look like a caged tiger waiting to be fed—cranky and inpatient.

  Not that anyone is watching me.

  Eva is standing by the black marble counter in the kitchen, blabbering with my aunt like they’re best friends. If it goes on like this, I won’t have time to show Eva my surprise in my climbing room. Why did Marjorie decide to pay a surprise visit today of all days? She already dropped by once this week. Is my aunt so worried about my bet that she has decided to monitor me? It’s enough that Murphy checks in with me twice daily. I certainly don’t need another family member tracking my actions with Eva. And even less so on a date—the first one labelled as such by Eva too.

  I sigh and throw a glance at the two women who are smiling widely at each other.

  It’s almost bothering to see how well the two of them get along. Eva was way more reserved with me during our first encounter. And on the second. And the third. It took me almost four tries to break through her heavy, protective shell. How had my aunt succeeded in ten minutes?

  Great, now I feel envious of my aunt because Eva is nice to her. Can I get any dumber?

  I love my aunt, and I’m so happy she’s feeling better after her debilitating sickness and is able to drop by unannounced, but how am I supposed to get cozier with Eva with Marjorie around? Especially when all my aunt has done since arriving is reveal goofy past events about me to the woman I wish would see me as a desirable and sexy adult.

  Eva arches her brows at my aunt. “I can’t believe this. So not like him.”

  “It’s hard to fathom, I know.” Marjorie chuckles. “He’s all grown up and serious now. You’d think he’s never pulled a prank in his life. But I assure you that inside our Nathan, perhaps buried somewhere, there’s still a careless young boy wanting to get out.”

  My neck tenses at my aunt’s words.

  What’s she trying to do? Sabotage my efforts with Eva?

  Eva giggles.

  Her jingling laugh fills my chest, and my glance flicks to her lips. I like seeing Eva happy. I don’t exactly know why, but I just do. Even if her good mood is triggered by an embarrassing story about my younger self.

  Eva turns to me, her voice still throaty from laughing. “Did you really do that, Nathan?” Her glance glistens with warmth and a curious depth that makes me hope that Marjorie’s reminiscence hasn’t cancelled out all my charm.

  “Guilty.” I nod. “Now you see why I couldn’t scold Juan. I know that kids do stupid things to get attention from adults. With time it becomes much harder to impress those around you, and sometimes extreme measures are needed.”

  Marjorie frowns at me, but I ignore her glare. She must have understood my not-so-subtle reference to Mother and clearly disapproves. But if she does, then she should convince her sister and Murphy to stop their test and grant me my well-deserved promotion.

  Even if…then I would have no excuse to spend time with Eva.

  This unexpected idea fazes me. The puzzling sensation I had after my talk with Zach fills my mind. To redirect my loitering thoughts to the present, I saunter over to them. “By the way, how is Juan doing?” I ask.

  “Good. He gets his fair amount of scolding each day from me, but it’s always filtered through Abuelita’s kindness.”

  “Your grandmother sounds like a delightful person,” Marjorie says. “I’d love to meet her one day.”

  “Oh, I’m sure she would love that too.” Eva nods enthusiastically. “And, yes, you’re right. She is an amazing woman, strong and positive. Always having faith in the noble intentions of others and in life’s goodness in general. Even beyond the limit of the impossible sometimes.” Her voice seems off-key at these last words. Her eyes are fixated on her hands, and she picks at her nails.

  Marjorie peers down at her watch. “Oops, it’s time to go and take my medication. I just wanted to see how Nathan was doing; but, I can see he’s in the best of company, so I’ll be on my way now.” She squeezes Eva’s hand. “Good-bye, my dear.” Then she blinks at me. “Take care of Eva, Nathan. And behave.”

  “Sure, will do,” I murmur.

  I know my aunt means well, but her concern is superfluous. I’m already being more attentive and caring with Eva than I ever have with any woman, or perhaps any other person, in my adult life.

  Marjorie shuffles to the entrance, and Tracy appears to let her out.

  I turn back to Eva. She’s studying me with an undecipherable expression. Half of her face is in the shadow, which makes reading her that much harder.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask, slightly alarmed.

  Why is she looking at me like she is seeing me for the first time?

  “Yes.” She squints at me. “I’m just trying to imagine you as a young kid. From what Marjorie said you must have been the most adorable little boy.”

  “You mean, I’m not the most adorable one anymore?”

  She chuckles. “No, it’s not what I meant. You’re…”

  “Adorable? Oh please, Eva. Don’t be afraid of saying nice things to me.” I step closer and deepen my voice a little. “Especially now that we are officially dating. Believe it or not, there’s nothing that I would want to hear more.”

  Her signature wrinkle forms between her brows, which isn’t the reaction I’d hoped to provoke with my flirting.

  “Not even the news about your promotion? I thought that was on the top of your priority list.”

  “How did we jump from you admitting that I’m still adorable to my career plans?”

  Eva shakes her head. “Sorry, my bad. It’s just that, after talking to your aunt, your plan about leading your family’s company keeps popping into my mind.”

  “Ah, how so?”

  Could Eva suspect something about the bet? Did Marjorie make a gaff I didn’t catch?

  She sucks in a breath and holds it in longer than necessary. When the air comes out with a soft whoosh, she shrugs. “I don’t know. Perhaps hearing the stories about you as a cheeky and careless kid, made me wonder about your working life. Your job seems to take up most of your time already, right? Leaving you with little chance to do anything that’s just fun… Wouldn’t it be worse if you became CEO?”

  I finger my shirt collar, unsure how to answer. Eva’s point is valid. As AMEA’s leader I wouldn’t have much free time—probably none if I want the company to double its revenue as quickly as possible. “It’s likely. But that aspect never discouraged me. I don’t mind the extra hours I need to put in.”

  Or, I didn’t until I met you. No, I don’t mean that. Or do I?

  I recall how this morning I entrusted Larry to take over an important client of mine. I actually delegated for the first time in my life, but it was necessary, otherwise I couldn’t have taken off the aft
ernoon to be with Eva. I told myself I did it because winning the bet needs to be my priority. Plus handing a bone to Larry felt right, given that soon I’ll be snatching away the position to which he aspires. But if I’m honest, there was also a part of me, a big one no less, that just wanted the sheer joy of spending time with Eva…

  Eva licks her lips, quickly. “Ah, I see. Then I must have misunderstood your comment last night. You know, when you said you don’t feel the same passion for your job as I do for dancing.”

  I did say that. And perhaps it’s true. The way Eva’s whole persona radiates when she hears her music isn’t something that signing a deal, even a multi-billion one, could ever unleash in me. I might not have the pure love of sales coursing through my veins, but I’m also not an artist. I don’t have a passion. I have goals and the sense of satisfaction when I reach them. That’s enough.

  I square my shoulders and press my hips to the kitchen counter. It’s cold and rigid against my skin. “Do you mean you don’t approve of my ambition then?”

  “Nathan, please. I didn’t say that. I would never dare. I’m just a dancer in a bar, and you’re a future director of a large company. I’m in no position to give you career advice.”

  “You, Eva Flores, aren’t just a dancer in a bar.” I touch the tip of her nose. “You are the star of Desert Rose as far as I could see. Everyone is dazzled by you. Myself included.”

  She blushes and the delicate pink on her skin makes me want to bend forward and kiss her, but I keep my longing at bay. I need to understand exactly what she thinks about my plan. Mostly because without knowing it, she plays a big part in its success. “So with this in mind,” I continue, “what do you think about my wish to lead my family’s company?”

  “No, Nathan. I don’t want to step on your toes.”

  “I’m interested.” And I am. Especially after hearing a hint of objection in her voice.

  I wonder briefly if I’m still respecting Murphy’s condition if the why of Eva’s thoughts and the what of her actions fascinate me beyond anything I ever thought possible?

  “You know, after mom died,” Eva keeps her eyes somewhere above my shoulder, “I went to countless therapy sessions with my step-dad. I hoped it would help him with his addiction issues. His psychologist told me once that choosing what to strive for after a great loss can be influenced by an internal obligation we feel for those who are gone. But…he also said it’s not healthy…”

  I give out a dry chuckle. “Are you sure you’re Eva and not my brother in disguise?

  Eva smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Yes, it’s still me.”

  “You could have fooled me.” Why is Eva even bringing up my father? I decide to meet her comment with a lighter tone. “I see. Murphy also tries to shove some of my shortcomings on Father’s departure. I always tell him that it’s he who became a psychologist to cure himself.” When I see that Eva doesn’t care for my joke, I add, “Eva, it’s kind of you to worry about me and my vocation. But I was only six when Father died. That’s like twenty-something years ago. I have gotten over his death.”

  Eva’s eyes flick to mine. “I just wanted to make sure you have the right motivation. Since your career may cost you so much sacrifice.”

  As much as I’m usually able to keep anyone’s opinion about my behavior in the place where it belongs, Eva’s words touch me more than I like. But why? She must be wrong, so her insinuations shouldn’t bother me. Father’s death might have impacted my life, but it isn’t the reason I…

  No, certainly not. I’ve always wanted to work at AMEA, even as a kid… Didn’t I?

  A memory I didn’t know I possessed flashes through my mind, and I freeze.

  Me as a six-year-old, carrying a paper to Father’s office. My fingers are blue and yellow from the colors I used. I’m proud of the picture I’ve painted. It shows me standing in front of a bunch of other kids—each with stick hands and feet.

  My knees shake a little as I walk up to his giant nutmeg desk where he spends all of his time when he’s at home. Normally, I’m not supposed to disturb him, but he asked me to paint something for him.

  I hand over my creation to Father.

  His skin plays in a deep scarlet tone—a premonitory sign of his aneurysm, no doubt. “What’s this, Nathan?” He glances up from the file he’s reading.

  “My future, Father. You asked me to draw it for you.”

  “And what would that be? I can’t recognize what you meant.”

  “A teacher, like Aunt Marjorie’s husband,” I say proudly.

  His face contorts in a grimace of disappointment, and his pointy chin quivers. His voice rasps as he barks at me, “Son, you’ll have to become so much more than that if you want to be worthy of my legacy. Sooo much more.”

  How could I forget that talk? It was the last one I had with Father.

  My body feels like a bow bent to its maximum. A cold sweat prickles down my neck. I close my eyes and inhale and exhale deeply while I gather my wits. This memory still doesn’t prove Eva’s point. I’m not doing all this because of what Father said to me. Or perhaps I’m doing it also for him. But what’s so bad about honoring a dead man’s last wish? Becoming a teacher was just a silly idea I came up with. It wasn’t a real desire. If it had been, I wouldn’t have forgotten all about it. Leading AMEA is my dream. Period.

  And with Eva, I’m on a good path to achieving it.

  Eva…oh, no!

  My eyes spring open. Where is she? I look around in my living room, but besides the giant shadows cast by my Ceccotti sitting furniture, I can’t see anyone. She must have left me alone after I stood here like a mental person with my eyes shut, squeezing my fists.

  “Eva? Eva?” I call out, but no answer comes.

  I’m about to amble to the corridor to ask Tracy if she has seen Eva, when I spot Eva standing in my study in front of a picture.

  She turns when she hears my approaching steps. “Did you know that my favorite painting is from Chagall? I suppose this is an authentic work?”

  I’m glad that she isn’t asking about my behavior. Speaking about art is a much more agreeable topic than digging in my past. “Yes, it is. He’s one of my favorites too, together with Modigliani, from whom I have two drawings in my bedroom.”

  Eva’s mouth is hanging loose. “Wow, the price of this oil-on-canvas must be four or five times the worth of my grandmother’s entire house.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “I used to think a surplus of money, you know, beyond the level of an average person’s wealth, was superfluous. But this…” She points at the picture. “Having the chance to look at this each morning…this could be a definite perk of being a billionaire.”

  Oh, Eva, you never cease to surprise me. How the heck do you do this? “To possess a Chagall is probably the least frequent reason I’ve heard to become a rich. Especially from women…” I chuckle.

  A pensive glint penetrates her black irises, making her look even more attractive. “Ah, really? And what are the most common ones?”

  “You know, the usual…clothes, shoes, jewelry, living in a villa, traveling with a private jet…”

  Eva gives me a mischievous smile. “Then I guess I’m truly the weird one, because I’d trade all of those to own a Chagall.”

  “Which is your favorite of his?”

  Her nose wrinkles into a delicious little grimace. “Les Trois Cierges, definitely. I love how on that particular one, life and fantasy melt into a fairy tale and the couple seems to float in between.”

  “Do you like fairy tales that much?” I tease her, because her dreamy voice and clouded eyes don’t fit the fiery, decisive girl I’ve gotten to know.

  “I liked them as a kid, like any child, I guess. Though less than my cousin for sure. Anyway, I’ve learned with time that they’re written to instill values in us.”

  I want to discover more about what kind of fantasies Eva harbored as a girl. “Which story did you listen to the most? I might know it.”

  Eva bite
s on her lower lip. “I doubt you would.”

  “Try me, please.”

  “‘La Mujer Sin Alma’?”

  “A woman without…what?”

  “‘The Woman Without Soul’.”

  “Is it from the Grimm Brothers?” It certainly has a dark enough title to be one of theirs.

  Eva shakes her head. “It’s a folktale from the village where my mother’s family comes from in Mexico. It’s…” Eva’s hands curl around her middle, her chin dipping down.

  Is she feeling embarrassed about this? Why? I step close so I can reach her face. I cup her cheeks and raise it to me. When I release her, her glance stays interlocked with mine. “So what’s this ‘Mujer Sin Alma’ about?” I ask.

  “It’s the story of a poor woman who was the lover of a rich man.” Her voice wavers at these last words, but then she continues, “The man promises her they will get married, but he lies. He weds another, an elder woman who is even more wealthy than he is. The poor woman’s heart can’t take the pain, so she rips it out from her chest, becoming the Woman Without Soul. She is thought to live in the darkest part of the Lacandon Jungle and only comes out at midnight to feed on the souls of women who are silly enough to follow in her footsteps and get betrayed by their rich lovers.”

  I gulp, tipping my head to the side. “Wow, that is kind of a cruel bedtime story for a little girl, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, I guess.” Eva gives me a weak smile.

  I’m suddenly sorry that I dismissed her tale with such bold words. It’s clearly something that has been part of Eva’s belief system. It might be even the cornerstone of why she has been so afraid to open up to me. “I imagine it was your mother’s way to protect you, right? She didn’t want you to fall into the same trap as she did with your father. Thank you for letting me peek at such a personal memory of yours.”

  “Yes, it was Mom’s attempt to ensure I wouldn’t suffer like she did. And no thanks necessary. I spent the past hour gossiping about your mischiefs with your aunt, so it’s only fair that you hear about some of my secrets.” Her eyes fill with warmth, then as if she just remembered something, she taps her forehead. “Didn’t you say you had something special you wanted me to try?”