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

He rubs his protruding brow bone. “No, your mother’s wealth wasn’t a decisive factor at all. If I’d stayed in service as a pilot, I couldn’t have given Holly what she most desired. A husband who is at her side. So I chose the woman I love, instead of the career I trained for.”

I shift uneasily from one foot to the other. “But you told Murphy so many tales about Greg, The Flying Mouse…flying must have been a passion for you?”

“You remember those stories? And yet you never wanted to enter when I yarned to your brother.”

“No, but I often sat in the corridor and listened to them anyway,” I admit.

“Oh, Nathan.” Malcom shakes his head, smiling. “I should have checked to see what that rustling was outside.”

“Yeah, those were the peanuts I snacked on,” I add with a grin.

Malcom sucks in a breath. “To answer your question, yes, flying was something that fascinated me. But your Mother was, and is, my love. She is my real passion. As long as I can keep her happy, I’m good. Also…” He winks. “I do fly a self-built glider regularly now, and it’s way cooler than the engine-driven models, I tell you.”

“Maybe someday I’ll join you.”

I don’t know who is more bewildered at my spontaneous proposition, me or Malcom, but he’s certainly quicker than I am at gathering his wits. “That would be awesome. Pick any day and I’ll take you.”

Isn’t it weird what a short week can accomplish? Seven days ago, I thought Malcom was a freeloader who gave up his work to bask in the riches my father had set up for us. How is it that I never even considered his act of renouncing his dream-job a sacrifice for love?

For the first time in my life, I look at Malcom and my vision of him isn’t clouded by my past hurt about him taking the place I believed belonged to Father. Perhaps Father never truly occupied that anyway. My father’s dream was to build AMEA, not to make Mother a happy wife or be a caring parent to me and my brother. It’s sad, but it’s still the truth. And recognizing it is long overdue for me.

As if Malcom perceives my change of attitude, he allows himself a rare gesture of tenderness with me and pats my face gently. “Before you ask, Nate. I don’t regret my decision. And I never will.”

The door of the library slams open.

“It’s your turn, Nate,” Murphy calls from the doorway. His blond curls stand out in high contrast with the corridor’s suffused lights.

I try to read from his face how his meeting with Eva went, but his features are a serene mask, and I won’t grant him the satisfaction of asking. I don’t want him to think I’m anxious about the outcome. It could ruin my entire plan.

Malcom gives me an encouraging glance. “Go, Nate. Holly’s eager to speak with you. But remember, my offer to fly together stands anytime you want.”

“Thank you,” I answer and walk to my brother, my stomach is suddenly back to the same rocky consistency it had when we entered this room.

It’s unexpected, and thus even more stunning, that Malcom and I managed to connect after more than twenty years. But now, the most crucial event of tonight awaits. I need to pass my test with Mother and Murphy. Once I’m done, I can hurry back to Eva.

Because, strangely, the talk with Malcom did nothing but strengthen my desire to confess to her how much I love her.

Chapter 33

(Eva)

I hover my fingers over the dill-and-chive deviled eggs topped with tangy pickled shrimp. The sauce looks so yummy and creamy, but it would certainly stain my beautiful ball gown. I’m not used to eating in a frothy dress while standing on stilettos. I would surely drizzle salsa on myself.

My gaze shifts to the rest of the table. It’s certainly not lacking in inviting and colorful canapés. Practically any dish on the buffet could be a Michelin star chef’s creation, and maybe it is. There are giant oysters, roasted fingerling potatoes with caviar, crispy polenta bites with some kind of green tapenade—probably not just a simple guacamole, but some fancy algae-like concoction—as well as skewered shrimp and ham rolls topped with apply jelly.

I throw a side glance at Marjorie, who’s still speaking with that elderly man who stopped her five minutes ago. They seem engrossed in their conversation, so it might actually be a blessing that I’m this undecided about whether or not I should dare to eat. At least while I’m standing at the buffet table, I don’t appear like a lost soul wandering without a scope, while everyone else is chatting.

When is Nathan going to be downstairs? Without his protective shield, I feel naked in the room. Especially with the plaguing thoughts about how I let Murphy trick me into confessing my love. I hope Nathan comes back in a good mood. Even if he became CEO, he would likely have less time to hang out with me.

I sigh and pivot back to the exquisite finger foods. It’s much better to channel my restless energies toward picking one than to start obsessing about how Nathan’s work schedule may or may not be able to accommodate our relationship. If I’m important to him, he’ll surely find the time. I just need to trust him on this.

I reach toward a mid-sized oyster. I’ve never tried any before now, but I saw a woman with a high-bun and tiara swallow one with one slurp. It might be a less risky choice than anything else.

“I wouldn’t do it if I were you,” A young waitress whispers behind my back.

Her voice is familiar. I turn and recognize Lola, one of our waitresses from the Desert Rose.

“Lola.” I smile at her. “What a surprise.” I’d completely forgotten, but Daphne did mention that Lola works for the Montgregor family events every now and then.

“Ditto.” She grins back, her thickly outlined lips curling