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

We even speak about my work. A subject I’ve been meaning to avoid, because bringing it up with the bet on the line, would tense me up. But guess what? Explaining to Eva about what I usually do in the office feels natural. I soon find myself narrating to her a tough negotiation I just recently had with the head of a big medical device firm.

Eva asks me questions about my meeting partner, then throws in such interesting insights that I almost gasp. “I understand your annoyance about Mr. Richmond’s reluctance to let your team take over his office when that’s exactly why he contacted you.” She nods. “But you should look at it from his perspective, too. If your men invade his offices, his employees might start to feel disposable. I know I would. I’d think, ‘Hey, here are these new people doing the same job I’m supposed to do, but they are better at it. It won’t be long before I’m fired.’”

I move to lift a begonia, but freeze in mid-movement.

My gaze snaps to her face. “I think you just pinpointed the real issue, Eva.” How can this be? Zach and I discussed Mr. Richmond’s contradictory attitude over the phone, yet neither of us managed to see Mr. Richmond’s deal as clearly as Eva just explained. Thanks to her, I realize that if we offer for our analyst to work remotely so they won’t invade their office space, then the sign-off process will likely turn into a piece of cake.

Eva blushes as she hears my kudos. “I’m glad if I helped,” she mumbles, then her gaze moves to the line of flowers we’ve just finished and she smiles. “These begonias give so much color. I think Abuelita will be in seventh heaven. She’s wanted me to fix this garden ever since I came home from Silver Hills.”

The garden does look a lot neater, and we’ve only planted half of the flowers I bought. But my attention is hung up on Eva’s last words. “Silver Hills? You lived there?”

“Yes. I moved there three years after Mom died. Shortly after my step-father’s death.”

I tilt my head to the side feeling slightly fazed. Despite the variety of subjects we’ve addressed, the fact that Eva has lived anywhere but San Sebastian never came up.

Why did I assume she has always been tied down to this town?

I sit back on my heels and take off my gloves. “Did you need a change of scenery? After all that happened to you, nobody could blame you.”

Eva shrugs. “I guess. Though if I’m honest, losing my step-dad was also a tiny bit of a relief. Henry was a great guy, but with Mom gone, he’d lost his way. He started to drink and eventually the alcohol got the better of him.”

“I’m amazed how you and your family managed to endure so much misfortune. How did you cope with the pain and stay so normal?”

“I’m not sure I qualify for that term.” She gives me a sweet smile.

But she certainly does. Eva, despite the bad cards that were handed to her, seems a balanced person. Very vigilant, yes, but still full of fire and spunk. What’s her secret?

She pulls off her gloves, too, and wipes her forehead with her hand. “Abuelita always says that there are two ways of facing challenges. One is to lie down and pretend you’re dead so that nobody kicks you. The other is to pick up the fight and give it all you’ve got.” Her eyes drift to the window behind my back. “Of course, the way my grandmother interprets a fight is different from how I do—she is so good and forgiving that I constantly feel inept when I’m with her.”

I reach out and smooth a curl behind her ear. “I’m sure she’s proud of you. People, above all those who are the closest to us, often have the hardest time showing us their appreciation.”

“That’s a pretty wise thing to say,” Eva whispers while she plays with her glove.

I nod and keep to myself that I’ve borrowed my aunt’s wisdom. Even if, as I say the words, I realize how true they are for the first time. Indeed, Marjorie’s favorite phrase perfectly describes my relationship with Murphy or Mother too.

To distract myself from this bothering thought, I steer the conversation back to Eva. “Why did you move back home?”

Eva throws me a quick side-glance. Her eyes are wide and her jaw clenched as if she didn’t expect my question and isn’t particularly happy about it. “Abuelita is getting old. There’s need for a firm hand with my siblings if we want them to become honest citizens in this barrio. My grandmother isn’t able to bear this responsibility alone anymore. So I need to be here to help her.”

I detect a dark edge in her voice when she mentions her neighborhood. Before I can inquire more, a loud yell cuts through the air.

“Eeeevaaaa! Come! ¡Apurate! Hurry! Juan messed up! Biii-iiiig time!”

The voice sounds like it’s coming from the driveway and belongs to a young girl.

“Oh, no. Not again.” Eva’s jaw tightens and she jumps up. Without looking at me, she sprints along the path leading to the street. A second later a squeaking, “¡Oh, santo cielo! Dear heaven!” echoes from their house’s crumbly walls.

My Spanish isn’t good, but I know this exclamation. Eva’s voice is an octave higher than I’ve ever heard her speak. I straighten, and without wasting time to dust off my pants, I rush to her.

Chapter 12

(Nathan)

As I reach the porch, I look around. I can’t find anything that should have prompted Eva’s shock.

She stands beside a little girl who has the same rich shade of brown hair as her, except the child wears it in two cheeky pigtails.

I follow the direction of their gazes, and then I see it.

My new Bentley has gotten some…decorations. Its metallic grey color, the hue of the stormy Pacific Ocean, if I recall the vendor’s pitch correctly, is partially