Page 167 of Diego

I give him a small, smug smile. “I lied.”

Diego laughs. “You lie now.”

I shake my head. “It was always this house.”

His brows rise.

“The penthouse was insurance,” I explain. “I was trying to sell you the best house suited to you. You just wouldn't get off that penthouse track. It's why I worked so hard to get it on the lineup. I knew if this house didn't get you, the penthouse was a sure thing.”

“Ah, so you were manipulating me.”

“I was selling,” I correct.

“Both those things sound suspiciously similar.”

“They are completely different.”

He shakes his head, still smiling as he reaches for the tray. “You are impossible.”

“And I was right.”

“You were accidentally right.”

“There was nothing accidental about it.”

He starts to answer, but I catch the shift in his expression before he does. His gaze drops to my stomach for a moment, and the easy teasing recedes beneath everything that happened the last couple of days.

I feel it too.

The room quiets around us.

Diego picks up the tray and settles it more securely across my lap. “Eat something.”

I look down at the breakfast he has brought me. It holds scrambled eggs, buttered toast, fresh berries, and a small bowl of oatmeal with honey on the side. Simple, mild, and appropriate for someone whose stomach has been unreliable at best.

I look back at him. “You are very bossy in the morning.”

“I am very bossy all day. You'll get used to it.”

I take a small bite of toast mostly because arguing with him would require more energy than I have, and my body does need food even if my appetite has not entirely caught up with that fact. Diego watches until I take another bite, which should annoy me but somehow does not this morning.

After a minute, the practical part of my brain finally pushes its way back in. “What about work?”

“Don’t worry about that.”

I look at him.

“There are more important things.”

“I have clients and showings. I have a pricing analysis due.”

“Blair.”

His tone stops me.

He reaches over and rests his hand lightly against my leg through the blanket. “There are more important things.”

I look down at the tray.