Page 37 of Diego

His eyes settle on me for a second, and there is that faintly amused look again.

I keep going before I start enjoying it too much.

I bring him back toward the main floor so he can see how the rooms connect now that he understands the layout.

From the kitchen, the lake is visible.

From the living room, the lake is visible.

From the dining room, the lake is visible.

From the office, the primary suite, and most of the upstairs hall, the lake is visible.

Even some of the secondary rooms have a full view, and several have partial views.

By the time we are back in the main living space, Diego has stopped looking like a man simply entertaining the new real estate broker.

That is exactly what I wanted.

I stand near the fireplace while he walks toward the windows again, taking another look outside.

“This house is a lot,” I say, because pretending otherwise would be stupid. “It is more space than you had before, and it comes with responsibilities a penthouse doesn’t. But most of those can be handled by staff or services if you don’t want to deal with them yourself.”

He turns toward me.

“And the upside,” I continue, “is that it gives you room for the life you actually have. You can live here alone without the house feeling empty all the time, but when your family comes over, you’re not trying to squeeze everyone into a space designed for one person. There are places for the adults, places for the kids, enough privacy that you can disappear when you want to, and enough shared space that everyone can be together when you don’t.”

Diego looks around once more.

I do too.

I spent half the night hoping I had understood him well enough to choose this place.

Now, for the first time since Randall handed me Diego’s contact information and told me my job depended on pulling this off, I think I might have gotten at least one thing right.

Chapter Nine

Diego

By the time Blair and I step back through the front doors of the next showing, a mansion, I have already decided I like it more than I expected to.

That has become a pattern today. Every house we have pulled up to, I have been skeptical.

Then walked out the door an hour later, nearly convinced.

This particular house is old enough to have a good amount of history without feeling like a museum, restored carefully enough that the original details are still present. Dark wood runs through the entry and main staircase, the ceilings are high without being cavernous, and almost every room has something worth looking at twice.

Original fireplaces. Arched doorways. Leaded glass. A library that would probably convince anyone to move in without seeing the rest of the place. Even the newer additions have been done well enough that they feel like they’ve always belonged.

It is also enormous.

I glance back toward the staircase as Blair closes the door behind us. “You seem determined to put me in houses large enough to qualify as municipal buildings.”

She smiles as she turns the key in the lock. “You keep saying that, but you also keep finding reasons to like them.”

“That doesn’t make them smaller.”

“No, but it does mean I’m not completely wrong.”