Law #1: Never Bet on Love: A Sweet Billionaire Love Story (Laws of Love) by Agnes Canestri (i read book txt) 📕

it happen. Doing some sightseeing could create the perfect frame. I wave. “My private jet can take us there at any time. So what about tomorrow? Maybe we could even make it a day trip. Go and have a walk in San Diego, then eat in a nice restaurant.”

The thick files I left on my table flash through my mind, but I cast away the worry about not being able to address them. It won’t do me any good to get those cases worked out if I don’t win this lousy bet.

“Wait, wait!” Eva holds up her hand. “What? Did I hear that correctly? Are you saying we should fly to the ocean tomorrow and spend an entire day together?”

I square my shoulders. “This would be my idea, yes.”

Eva’s face turns into an unreadable mask. “I’m sorry, but did you think this through?”

What did she hope I would suggest? “Yes, I did. You don’t like it?” A confused frown settles between my brows.

“Let me get this straight.” Eva brushes back a dark tress from her forehead. “You saw me dancing. You thought I looked good. So you invite me to share your fancy lifestyle for a day?”

“Yes.” Except I don’t usually fly to the ocean, or basically anywhere, except to AMEA’s subsidiaries or to my clients.

Eva throws her hands in the air. “What an offer! What’s not to like, right?”

Maybe we’re getting to the same page? “Right,” I add, relaxing a bit.

“I see.” Eva smiles and leans closer. “Did you also hope that after a tiring day of walking around…” Her nostrils flare. “I don’t know…maybe… I’d come to rest right in your bed?”

Her words and her closeness make my breath catch.

Eva snorts and moves back. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but no. I’m very busy, so I have no time. I’m sure, though, that you will”—she waves her arm around the bar—“find someone else who feels spending a day with a rich man she doesn’t know is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” She stands up. “I don’t.”

I’m trying to get my head around her words. Did she just refuse me?

From the corner of my eye, I catch a self-satisfied grin on Murphy’s face. He’s watching my humiliation with a gloat on his lips.

I jump up. I can’t let Eva off like this. I agreed to this game. If I give up now, I’m proving that Murphy’s right about me. That I can’t affect people the way I want to.

I position myself in Eva’s way.

She stops.

I reach out and grab her hand. “Eva, wait.”

She flinches but doesn’t pull back. “What?”

“I-I-I…” Oh heavens, now I’m stuttering. Did Murphy mix something in my drink to make sure I lose the bet? It would explain the waves of heat rolling over me. “It was nice to meet you, Eva.”

Her brows arch. “Nice meeting you too, Nathan.”

I release her, and she lowers her hand immediately. But she doesn’t dart off. She stands there, staring into my eyes for a long second. At least I think it’s long, because I can count at least thirty throbs in my jugular artery while we’re looking at each other.

Eva clears her throat. “Anyway, I need to go now.” She pushes me gently to the side, and this time I let her. She hurries to the bar and, after a second, disappears.

I shuffle back to Murphy, trying to digest what just happened. It’s been years since a meeting where I intended to achieve something blew up so disastrously in my face. Is it because I didn’t prepare enough mentally? Or does it have to do with this weird tingling in my fingers? Maybe Eva’s attractiveness has blinded my judgement and made me behave inefficiently and poorly focused?

I’m still replaying the last few moments of our encounter in my head as I reach my brother at the bar, and I hop up on the barstool beside him.

Murphy pushes a beer to me. “Drink up. You might need some refueling. From what I could see, it wasn’t smooth cruising. Yet.”

I roll my eyes at him, because he’s stating the obvious. Then his last word hits me. “Yet?”

Murphy grins and takes a sip from his bottle. “Yes. You didn’t quite have her eating out of your palm, but I saw flickers of chemistry between you two.”

Flickers of chemistry? It’s the understatement of the year if he’s describing my bodily reaction. I’m not sure about Eva’s though. I did detect a glint of interest in her eyes just before we parted. But it could have been my imagination.

I pick up the round cup holder from beneath my bottle and roll it back and forth between my palms. “Or maybe you’re not as good an analyst as you think,” I murmur.

Murphy puts his palm on the cup holder, halting its movement. “Nope. My instincts rarely deceive me. With Eva, you’re still in the race.”

My eyes dart to him.

He seems convinced of what he’s saying. Murphy isn’t as untalented at predicting the emotions of others as I like to depict. As much as I hate admitting it—especially now that he’s the judge of my future—my brother has decent gut feelings about people. So if he thinks I still stand a chance with Eva, despite her clear refusal, he’s likely right.

This thought infuses me with new confidence. “You’re right. So what if round one went down without a victory, huh? A war is made up of many battles. I still have a week to convince Eva…”

I pause.

Wait a minute… Why is Murphy encouraging me? Isn’t it strange?

Murphy points at my furrowed brows. “I can read your unspoken question. No, Nathan, I don’t wish for you to lose this bet. I want you to give it your best and prove that the worries Mother and I have about you are baseless. That’s what I want.”

“If it were me, I wouldn’t want you to win. But we’re as different as an apple and a banana, right?” I empty my beer with a few eager gulps, then straighten. “Anyway, I have