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

I exhale loudly.

Perfect, just what I need. My seven-year-old sister interrogating me. Also, where did she learn to use the word loaded? She must have been playing with those kids from that blue house. They speak like little adults. Correction—badly educated little adults.

But it doesn’t matter what slang my sister used, my answer is clear. I don’t like them. And the only reason I spent a bit of time last night—okay, perhaps slightly more than necessary—pondering about Nathan is because his behavior was cheeky…and inappropriate. It’s not because I felt drawn to him or anything. Not even when he took my hand as we said good-bye.

Especially not then.

Espie bounces on her toes. “Eva, answer me. Do you or don’t you?”

I stroke her silky hair. She’s the only one in our family who inherited my mother’s tresses. Everybody else, including me, has a thick mane, much rougher to the touch. “I don’t particularly fancy rich men, Espie. They too often take things in life for granted. They don’t go through the same trouble of getting what they want like the rest of us. They assume that everything should fall into their lap when they say so. I don’t think it’s fair.”

I think back to Nathan’s startled face when I refused him. Maybe I taught him a lesson that will serve him well? Men like him have to learn that not all women will fall head over heels for them just because of their wealth.

Juan’s freckled cheeks move into a frown. “You know what, Eva? I’m going to show Boris at school tomorrow that the world isn’t his. He might have the latest Transformers, but he bullies everyone and thinks it’s okay. But it’s not, is it?”

Oh, fudge. What did I just do?

It wasn’t my intention to turn my younger brother into a vigilante. He might get expelled from school if he starts teaching lessons to his richer companions. Even if some of them are admittedly spoiled rats like that Boris.

“No, no, Juan. That’s not what I meant.” I point at his chest for emphasis. “You are not punishing, nor teaching anyone a lesson, me entiendes? Are we clear? Not before you learn how to act like a good boy yourself. Just look at the mess in this house. Abuelita and I can’t clean up after you all the time. You need to—”

My brother holds up his tiny palms in protest. “Okay, okay. Fine, whatever. You can stop with the preaching already.”

Abuelita puts her hand on Juan’s head. “Go and get dressed, Juanito. I want to leave for church soon.”

“But I’m dressed already. Espie is the one who needs to get ready. I’ll go and kick the ball while she does. Can I? Please? Pretty please?” Juan gives us an imploring look. His chin trembles slightly as if he could start crying if we refuse him. Which is exactly why it’s so difficult to say no when he does that. And I’m sure he knows it.

Abuelita, as expected, nods. “Okay, but just a little. And don’t get dirty!”

Juan rushes to the entrance door to get his ball while Espie pulls on Abuelita’s dress. “Can you make me a ponytail? A long one. I wanna look like Rapunzel,” she whines.

Abuela sighs. “Sure I can. Let’s go, Espie.”

They go upstairs, leaving me alone in the living room.

I feel lucky that neither of the kids asked why I’m not attending the mass with them, as it’s their habit. I don’t want to begin a new discussion with Abuelita about my lost faith. It’s not even true that I don’t believe anymore. I just don’t like going to our church, because everything and everyone reminds me of my mother.

Also, this way I can avoid bumping into my ex or anyone from his gang. Those two-faced jerks don’t mind dealing drugs and dressing up for church on the very same day. It sickens me that our whole community, including me—someone with first-hand information—keeps quiet about their petty criminal activities. But, as my wise grandmother always warns me, we can’t risk their supplier’s retaliation. Those are big fishes and their revenge wouldn’t be pretty.

The wisest thing to do would be to leave San Sebastian for good…

A twitchy sensation spreads to my legs as I recall the countless times I’ve aired this argument to Abuelita and her dismissive reaction to it. I wish Abuelita didn’t want to stay in our hometown. But, unfortunately she does. She doesn’t want Espie and Juan to have to change schools, and she can’t abandon her duties for our church. Which settles the situation, unfortunately. Even if I know that taking away Alejandro would keep him safe, I can’t leave my grandmother in charge of my two younger siblings. She can’t cope with them anymore on her own.

I swallow twice to rid my throat of the prickling bitterness and decide to focus on something more cheerful. I glance at my watch. I’ve got more than two hours of freedom.

What shall I do with it? Laundry or the market place? Maybe Cathy’s flower shop?

Just as I’m about to decide, Juan returns to me, running. “Somebody is here for you, Eva,” he pants.

“For me? Who is it?” I do a quick mental check whether I’ve made any appointments. Nope.

Juan presses his hands to his mouth and leans in as if to whisper. But as I bend closer, he yells into my ear, “It’s a maa-aan.”

I give my brother an annoyed oh-you’re-just-so-funny grimace and hurry to the door.

Did Fernando send one of his pals to snoop around in Abuelita’s house? It wouldn’t be below him. Abuelita told me that his gang is courting younger kids now too—probably to groom them as early as possible for their deplorable purposes.

As I get closer to the window of our corridor, I glimpse at our driveway.

And my heart stutters. Big time.

There is a dark Bentley parked beside Abuelita’s old sedan. The contrast between the two vehicles couldn’t be more conspicuous. But that’s not