Law #2: Don't Play with a Player: A Sweet Office Romance Story (Laws of Love), Agnes Canestri [novels for students .txt] 📗

“What’s your name?” he says.

“Laia, Laia Flores. I belong to the rare species of non-coffee drinkers,” I jabber. It’s pure nervousness that made me add that last silly bit.

Though I’m not affected by Devon Griffin’s devilishly good looks, I’m uncomfortable about being singled out by him.

Despite my quivering stomach, I stand his observing glance with a straight face. After all, I’m here to demonstrate my aptitude for writing and not my barista skills.

His lips twitch. The tiny movement makes his eyes flicker, adding a certain softness to his features.

“A non-coffee drinker. Interesting. And so is your name. It’s not very common. Do you write it with a simple ‘i’?” he inquires.

I can literally feel the other candidates’ gazes, including Chelsea’s, dig a hole into my chest. They must be pondering the exact same thing I am.

Why is Devon wasting so many words on my name?

“Yes, with an ‘i’.” I nod. “It’s a shortened version of the Catalan name Eulàlia. It means sweet-speaking.”

“Ah, really? And are you sweet-speaking?” Devon arches his brows.

He has a very peculiar shade of blue irises. It gives me a sense of déjà vu. I know I’ve seen his color somewhere, but I can’t recall where. Probably because I’m distracted by the accelerated pulse slamming in my neck.

“Uhm, not always. No,” I mutter.

Especially not now, dang it.

This could be my occasion to outshine Fu and his fancy suit. While I have the CEO’s attention, I could show him that I’d be a valuable addition to his creative team, thanks to my wit.

But what do I do instead? I bore him with an idiotic detail about my name.

I inhale and set on to correct my mistake. “Mr. Griffin, just like Fu, I—”

Devon is already moving on to Sarah. “Let’s do it like this, Sarah. You start with Fu, and I’ll start with…” He smiles at Chelsea.

“Chelsea,” my friend says, batting her long lashes.

“My name is Helena,” the redhead adds.

“Good to know,” Devon answers. “But I’d like to start with…” His eyes flick to me. “Laia.”

I freeze. Why does Devon want to begin the rounds with me?

“I’m not interviewing for the…” My eyes dart to Sarah. This time she notices my pleading glance and takes the relay from me with a confident smile.

“Devon, Laia would like to apply to our creative department, just like Fu.”

“Is that so? Well, then…” Devon’s eyes narrow at me, then he turns to Sarah. “Then just send Laia up to my office once she’s done with you. In the meantime, I’ll speak to the other candidates.”

“But—” I squeak.

“But what, Laia?” Devon’s penetrating glance is on my face once more. “Is there a problem?”

There couldn’t be a worse moment for my mind to draw a blank, but my brain hasn’t received the memo. Instead of coming up with a polite way to refuse his invitation, I find myself musing about how it would be to work for Devon.

What’s happening to me?

Sarah comes to my aid. “What I meant is that Laia came to do only the copywriting interview. Like Fu.”

“Ah.” Devon taps on his forehead. “I see. That’s no problem. I imagine that Laia won’t mind doing two interviews, instead of one?”

I want to tell him that I very much would mind it. I’m not here to compete with his groupies, especially not with my roomie, so there’s no need for me to endure a second round of questions once I survive my first meeting with Sarah. But I’m afraid if I blurt this out bluntly, he’ll take offense and won’t let me do any internship.

Why does he even want to speak to me? Could it be just his attempt to annoy me? He can’t be that peevish about the fact that I didn’t want to prepare his morning cup, can he?

I inhale and raise my eyes to meet his. “No, it won’t be a problem, Mr. Griffin.”

“Devon.” He smiles.

“No, it won’t be a problem, Devon,” I repeat while I stare at him.

As his cheeks lift and press his eyes into tiny crinkles, I suddenly know where I saw his eye color. It’s the exact shade of those cornflowers my mother used to plant in our backyard when I was little.

Almost as if the puzzling hue of Devon’s eyes have occupied a hidden corner of my brain since he appeared.

“Everything okay, Laia? Ready to start the interview with me?” Sarah’s voice snaps me out of my reverie.

“Yes, ready. Very,” I declare cheerfully.

“Then let’s go into the orange room over there,” Sarah says.

I exchange a look with Chelsea and mouth “good luck” at her.

She gawks at me with her what’s-going-on gaze. Her brows furrow and she purses her lips, but I can’t stop to explain my take on events, because Sarah’s already moving toward the meeting room.

I stride behind the HR manager, trying to instill some pep into my timid step when I hear Devon’s baritone.

“Until later, Laia.”

Chapter 4

(Devon)

I bury my face into my palms and let out a long, exhausted sigh.

My fifth interviewee, a sassy and overly flirty brunette, has just finished sashaying her way out of my office. To think, only one-tenth of the applicants were invited to an actual interview. The remaining candidates should be the crème de la crème, but they clearly are not.

Katja warned me that this would happen when I asked her to add the PA position to the other internships on our website. She predicted that my reputation would attract a vast number—but the wrong kind—of applicants. According to Sarah’s report, even those who didn’t make the cut were predominantly female. Which, together with the interviews I’ve just conducted, makes me suspect that my secretary might have been right.

None of the women I spoke to is the right fit for my company. Not when they all act like they’re auditioning for The Bachelor.

To be honest, I’d have gladly offered a drink to any of them, had I met them in a club, but I can’t, with a clear conscience, take