Law #1: Never Bet on Love: A Sweet Billionaire Love Story (Laws of Love) Read online

  Law #1: Never Bet on Love

  Laws of Love Series

  Agnes Canestri

  Contents

  Gift to my Readers

  OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Epilogue

  Author’s note

  OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR

  About the Author

  Gift to my Readers

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  OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR

  Laws of Love Series

  Law #1: Never Bet on Love

  A billionaire. A salsa dancer. And a bet that might mean losing their hearts..

  Go to: mybook.to/lol1

  Law #2: Don’t Play with a Player

  Is there any actual proof that mixing business and pleasure is a bad idea? Asking for a friend…

  Go to: mybook.to/lol2

  Law #3: Don’t Fall for the Athlete

  He broke her heart. She won’t let him do it again...

  Go to: mybook.to/lol3

  Law #4: Don’t Trust the Bad Boy

  She thought she knew what she needed in her life. Can this bad boy show her she might have she been wrong all along?

  Go to: mybook.to/lol4

  Cirella Bay Series

  Big Flames & Small Lies

  She thought nothing unexpected ever happened in Cirella Bay. Oh, how wrong she was…

  Go to: mybook.to/cirella1

  Dark Secrets & Sweet Kisses

  Solving this small local mystery will be all fun and games. That’s if she can keep her heart safe from her sidekick’s —the snarky but handsome detective’s— charms…

  Go to: mybook.to/cirella2

  Gems of Love Series

  Gems of Love BOXSET

  All five books in one collection. The BEST DEAL on the series. Go to: mybook.to/gol-boxset

  Loving the Boss

  It could be her fresh start. If only she can avoid falling for her boss…

  Go to: mybook.to/gol1

  Gambling with the Billionaire

  Love was never on the menu…

  Go to: mybook.to/gol2

  Fake-Dating the Single Dad

  It was the perfect plan. Until their feelings turned all too real….

  Go to: mybook.to/gol3

  Saving the Brother’s Best Friend

  It was only a simple favor between friends. Until it wasn’t…

  Go to: mybook.to/gol4

  Falling for the Undercover Agent

  She was just a job. Until she wasn’t …

  Go to: mybook.to/gol5

  Other Books

  Saving His Heart (Jackson & Hole Firefighters)

  Rule #1: Don’t date a fireman.

  Rule #2: Don’t fall for your best friend.

  Rule #3: Never forget rules one and two

  Go to: mybook.to/saving-his-heart

  A Lesson in Love (Standalone forbidden love story)

  Sometimes what’s forbidden can’t be ignored…

  Go to: mybook.to/alessoninlove

  Chapter 1

  (Nathan - Day 1)

  What would the worst day of your life look like?

  This is a question my economics professor asked me back in grad school. What his point was, I couldn’t quite say. Maybe he wished to identify my deepest desire by knowing what events could shatter it?

  For me, it seemed like a cheap attempt to send me on a fruitless soul-search. Something I didn’t fancy doing. I’ve known what I wanted in life ever since I was six and Father died. I’ve never needed a philosophical riddle to point me in the right direction.

  But during these last five minutes, I realized my professor’s question wasn’t just rhetorical nonsense. Now I have my answer.

  It’s today. Without any doubt.

  When my brother Murphy decided to pay an unexpected visit to my office, striding in with a grin on his face, I still assumed I’d be able to continue with my afternoon as always. A five minute chat to satisfy Murphy’s constant need for bonding, and I could get back to my report.

  But when he settled down with care on the chair in front of my wide mahogany desk, as if planning to stay, and shifted his brows into his signature don’t-I-have-the-best-ideas look before speaking, I should have known this day wouldn’t be the same.

  Murphy has the most horrible ideas. Ever. And the one he’s just presented is no exception.

  My brother’s green shirt stands in such contrast to the monochrome shades of my work space that I almost have to squint as I stare at him. The hues of the sunset shine through my floor-to-ceiling windows, turning Murphy’s jovial expression into a bloody Joker mask while his blond hair glows like a halo.

  This eerie vision only increases the effect of the bomb he’s just dropped.

  Murphy seems unaware of how his news is affecting me. “So what do you think, Nate? Excellent plan, isn’t it?”

  I can’t seriously fathom how people pay my brother money to counsel them about their life crises. I certainly wouldn’t give him, or any shrink, a dime for some wishy-washy comments about opening up and accepting myself.

  But that’s beside the point.

  Which is, how could Mother grant her blessing on this? And more importantly, why?

  When she told me a week ago that she needed to take some time to evaluate my desire for promotion to CEO, I thought she just needed a chance to consider whether my exceptional track record of bringing in clients was enough to beat Larry our most senior director’s years of experience. I certainly never expected her to join forces with my brother to come and backstab me with such a setup.

  I meet Murphy’s enthusiasm with a somber glare. “Why isn’t Mother here to tell me this?”

  “She and Malcom left for a one-week cruise to celebrate Malcom’s birthday.” Murphy purses his lips as if he disapproves of me forgetting about Mother’s holiday plans.

  So what? “With all the duties I need to take care of for the company, I can’t keep close tabs on every insignificant detail,” I bark at him, annoyed.

  I really can’t. At least one Montgregor must be fully focused on AMEA’s success, right?

  Also, taking time off isn’t Mother’s usual habit. She loves to keep our boa
rd of directors, including me, on a short leash. Unless, of course, it was our step-dad’s request. For that leech, Mother would go around the world and beyond.

  No, Nathan, stop.

  Yes, I promised myself last Christmas I’d stop criticizing Mother’s illogical adoration for the person who’s half the man my father was. And I need to stick to this commitment, come what may. Even if it’s hard not to grumble about Mother’s awful timing to play the good wife when it has this impact on me and my dream.

  How could she approve Murphy’s crazy idea and sail to the Caribbean as if nothing happened?

  My shoulders lock up as I shift forward on the richly decorated seventeenth-century chair Mother recently bought for my office. It’s friggin’ uncomfortable and clashes with the minimalist style I love, but Mother said it conveys the right vibes for visitors.

  As if the Montgregors need to impress anyone. Our reputation—the one Father laid the foundations of—already took care of that.

  “I understand.” Murphy nods, but his face says he really doesn’t. Or if he does, he certainly doesn’t agree. Which becomes utterly clear as he continues. “The fact that you consider these aspects ‘insignificant’ is exactly the reason Mother decided to involve me in this whole process.”

  I put my palm on the cool surface of my desk, and my skin immediately leaves a wet smudge.

  Okay, Nathan breathe.

  If I just keep calm, maybe I can set the universe back on track. A reality where the goal I’ve been working toward these past eight years isn’t shattered through my brother’s clueless intervention.

  I inhale slowly. “Okay. So Mother put my well-deserved promotion on hold. Fine. This I can accept. The rest? No way. Murphy, I know you mean well, brother. At least I hope you do…but you’re not qualified to judge whether or not I should become CEO. You don’t even work for the company! It doesn’t make sense.”

  Murphy purses his lips, implying, Why not, without actually saying it. “Mother is unsure whether or not you’ve got what it takes. If she should choose Larry over you. But she couldn’t come up with a suitable test for you. That’s where I come in. Bringing out people’s hidden strengths or weaknesses is my specialty, remember?”

  I know Mother has always had a soft spot for Murphy and his excitingly creative geniality—her words, not mine. But to let him decide whether or not I’m fit to take over the very company I’m single-handedly propelling toward never-known success?

  Seriously?

  “Why would Mother even second-guess my skills? I might be younger than Larry, but my acquisition ratio beats his anytime. The numbers I bring in each month speak for themselves, don’t they?”

  My voice has a hint of resentment at first, but as I go on, I start to feel more confident. Indeed, AMEA has never closed a year as successful as this last one, and it’s all because of the deals I’ve managed to secure. Mother is aware of this. Perhaps she’s just ensuring that Murphy doesn’t feel left out when I’m promoted? Even if, it was Murphy’s choice to study psychology. He could very well have put his brain behind our true legacy instead of curing dysfunctional personalities.

  Murphy scratches his chin, a gesture he only does when he’s trying to buy time. I might not be a therapist, but I know my brother. He wants to tell me something he knows I won’t like.

  A vague sense of nausea washes over me.

  How does Murphy’s Law go? Anything that can go wrong will go wrong…?

  My gut suddenly tells me to buckle up, because the next thing out of my brother’s mouth is going to hammer these words into my mind with force. And he is a namesake to this very law. It must be life’s wicked sense of humor.

  Murphy clears his throat. “Yeah, your numbers are excellent. Nobody can argue with that. But Mother and I feel that you have a few crucial blind spots…”

  “What?” I jerk back, slamming my hands on the desk, shaking the pencil holder out of its place. “I have no effin’ blind spots. I’m driven, focused, and future-oriented. I’m the better choice. The best one, really. I have all the skills needed to lead our company.”

  Murphy gapes at me then gives out a bemused snort. “Oh, gosh, Nate. I sometimes forget how funny you are.”

  The truth is, I’m not funny. At least nobody has called me that in my thirty-three years of life.

  Brilliant, yes.

  Cutthroat, once or twice.

  Cold? Pretty frequently.

  But my sense of humor has never been praised much. Maybe I prefer to take life seriously, but it’s the only way to be successful. “I didn’t mean it as a joke,” I say dryly.

  Murphy’s wipes his eye with his palm and his expression becomes serious. “I know. That’s what so droll about it.”

  I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean?”

  Murphy leans forward. “I mean, this cocky ignorance about what you lack is the reason Mother agreed to have me assess your worthiness. What’s more, she’s given me free rein about selecting the task that will decide your promotion.”

  “She gave you free rein?” My jaw goes slack.

  “Indeed. Mother knows that, even if I’ve chosen an alternate career path, I’m just as worried about having the right person lead our company as she is.” Murphy nods with emphasis, and not even a single strand of his bangs moves.

  Despite the absurdity of the situation, I can’t stop myself from wondering exactly how much gel he must’ve combed into his hair to achieve this effect.

  If only you were as concerned with AMEA’s success as you are with your hairstyle, you would have stayed to carry on Father’s legacy…

  I swallow back the comment before it reaches my lips, realizing that if Mother is allowing my brother to test me as he pleases, I’m not likely to change her mind.

  I blink at the pile of documents that I pushed to the corner of my desk when Murphy entered my office. My skin prickles with irritation. Some of these files have been on hold for over a week now, awaiting my approval. I don’t have time to perform random exercises just to please Murphy.

  But I also know that once Mother decides on something, she never backs off. Call it pride or simple stubbornness, but she sticks to her word, even if all evidence suggests that she’s made a wrong choice. In this, we are the same.

  I grit my teeth to suppress the nasty thoughts swirling in my head, like how I want to shave Murphy’s goldilocks. I cross my arms in front of my chest. My safest option is to listen to what Murphy has come up with and hope it won’t be too painful or time-consuming. Perhaps I can even find a way to steer his plan in a direction that suits me best.

  “Okay, brother,” I murmur. “I’m ready. Please enlighten me. What should I do better to convince you that I’m the man for the job? Are you going to set a new benchmark I need to reach? An impossible client I need to acquire? Say it, and it’s done.”

  Murphy sighs. “Nate, that’s not at all what I have in mind. I know you’re good at bringing in business. The best, maybe.”

  Now, we’re talking. My lips curl up at his praise. “Finally, something we agree on.”

  “Yes. But numbers are only one half of being a leader. The other half is people. Your employees. And quite frankly, you’re terrible with them. You don’t care about them. You don’t empathize with them. You just manipulate them like pieces in a jigsaw puzzle you’re eager to complete…just like you do with us, your family.”

  I stare at my brother in disbelief.

  What’s he saying?

  None of my employees has ever complained about me not caring enough. True, I don’t spend time chatting with my secretary about her love life, and I don’t ask the sales crew about their children, nor do I invite the accounting guys for a coffee or lunch.

  But this doesn’t make me a bad leader. Only one with a clear vision about what’s important and what’s not.

  I adjust the pencil holder back in its rightful place. I blink at Murphy.

  He’s squinting at me like I’m one of his patients.

  I hate wh
en he does this, but I can’t snap at him now. I need to convince him he’s focusing on a senseless argument. If I call it that, however, I’ll confirm the prejudice he just shoved into my face. So I sigh and open my arms. “Okay, I don’t oppose your reasoning entirely. Tactical thinking, sales, and sealing deals are my thing. People? Not so much. But you can’t seriously doubt that I’d be a good CEO, just because I’m not empathic enough, right? I mean AMEA’s business isn’t the same as your daily bread and butter. We are a strategic consulting firm, not the Red Cross. Here, Murph, you don’t need to love your employees to get them to do—no, wait, even better—to make them want to do the things you need. I’d say that caring for them too much would even be counterproductive.”

  Murphy’s brows shift upward. “Oh, really? So you’re telling me you can make people want what you want because you don’t love them?

  “In a way, yes.” I shrug. “It’s easier to manipulate people if you don’t mix your own feelings into the equation.”