Law #2: Don't Play with a Player: A Sweet Office Romance Story (Laws of Love) by Agnes Canestri (web ebook reader .txt) 📕

“Which one?” Hugh brushes his bangs to the side to see me better.

“You know, Du-uu-mb Ways to Dii-eee…” I sing the catchy little rhyme to him.

As my jingle fills the room, all jaws drop around me.

Probably none of them expected me to actually chant the song to them, and while I’m doing it I realize it might’ve been a pretty stupid decision, after all.

I only sing in the comfy security of my shower. I’m not only submitting them to my terrible intonation, but my example probably has no relevance to their anti-smoking campaign.

I quickly cut my performance short and shrug. “I don’t remember all the ways the song listed, but there was one about poking a grizzly bear with a stick and another about taking your helmet off in outer space. It’s a song that a metro company used, I don’t recall where. Maybe in Australia?”

Devon claps his hands. “I know this video. You watch all these adorable cartoon characters dying in the dumbest of ways, and then you get to the moral of the story, which is that the dumbest possible way to die is by slipping at the edge of a train platform or crossing over a train track.”

“I know it too.” Anna nods. “It isn’t a bad inspiration for us. It shows that you can reach people when you do the unexpected.” Her eyes move to the ceiling. “I wonder how we could do that with the placement itself. Cigarette packages are old. But so are TV commercials and posters…”

I draw in a sharp breath because an idea is coming to me.

A hint of a smile appears on Devon’s lower lip. “I can see you’ve just had a stroke of genius, right?”

Can he read my face that well?

I nod. “Something popped into my mind, but I doubt it’s genius.”

Devon tilts his head, his eyes locking with mine. “Laia, why don’t you give it a go?”

“Really?” I ask.

“Sure.” Devon grins.

I can’t possibly say my suggestion aloud. They’ll hate it.

As if Devon senses my hesitation, he leans close and lowers his voice. “Laia, I know you didn’t originally want this job. But maybe it’s just what you need. If you took Fu’s position, your opinion wouldn’t be asked in meetings like this. But I promised you that, as my assistant, you’ll try your wings at many things. So why not take this chance? Don’t be afraid. Say what you want. Nobody will judge or belittle you. I promise.”

His baritone stirs my stomach.

I’m not used to people taking a chance on me. Fine, I’ll just tell them what I think. I wanted to be more extroverted, and this is an excellent chance to practice this skill.

If things go wrong, at least I’m already used to people laughing at me.

I let my gaze travel to the other participants. They, too, seem interested in knowing what I think. Even Rick blinks expectantly, which blue-pencils his previous hostility in my mind.

I return to Devon’s blue eyes and nod. “Okay, but please don’t laugh.”

“Nobody is going to laugh,” Anna assures me.

“Just say it. I’m sure it’s good,” Devon encourages me.

His kind words give me the final push I need, and I draw in a breath to tell them my idea.

Chapter 12

(Devon)

After the pre-con meeting is over, Laia gathers up Rick’s horrendous photos.

“Where can I put these designs?” she asks.

“Straight to the bin,” Rick answers before I can chime in.

“The bin?” Laia’s forehead wrinkles with confusion. “But it’s your work, Rick.”

“I might have taken these pictures, but I can accept when my creation is deemed unfit.” Rick flashes a theatrical, I’m misunderstood, grimace at Laia.

Rick’s overly dramatic nature never bothered me before. I can usually attribute his preposterous gestures to being an artist and, all in all, a decent one.

Even if his zombie plan is a slip-up.

But today, his whole demeanor is getting on my nerves. Why is he still hanging out here? The rest of the team has already returned to their own spaces, whereas he seems eager to continue the conversation with Laia. Rick’s interest in Laia bugs me.

My assistant has a lot to learn about the company, my work methods, and everything. She needs a clear and focused head for that. And mingling with Rick could be a distraction.

I stand up and fetch the posters from Laia’s hands. “I’ll sort these out. Rick.” I give him a somber stare. “I think you should join the others and start brainstorming which visuals could best support Laia’s idea. But, please, leave the living dead out this time.”

Rick adjusts his glasses and sniffs. “Sure, Devon. You’re the boss.”

His voice is slightly offended, but I couldn’t care less. His primary responsibility is to deliver good campaigns for our clients, and during this meeting he failed to do that.

When Rick is gone, Laia peers up at me. “Are you sure you want to give my idea a try? Like seriously?”

“Why not? It’s great.” To be honest, Laia’s suggestion isn’t just great. It’s terrific. “How did you come up with it?” I ask.

Laia shrugs. “You know I’m a bookworm, but so is my mom…though, she prefers thrillers, which I don’t like. Anyway, I thought, if your ad tapped into the pool of people who like to read, across all genres, that would represent a huge chunk of the smoking market you plan to target.”

I give her an appreciative smile. “You thought well. We can slip specifically designed pages toward the end of books, in both paperback and e-copies, which will increase our reach even further. Did you think of a slogan yet?”

A shy glint invades her eyes. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

Of course, she did. If this girl isn’t a wunderkind…

“Let me hear it.”

Laia holds out a hand. “May I write on the back of one of the posters?”

I hand her one of Rick’s creations, and our fingers brush against each other. A pleasant glow spreads on my palm from her touch. She really has