Page 128 of Diego

“No, it was good.” She turns slightly toward me. “I’m just not really in the mood, I guess.”

“That is unfortunate. Montes seemed very proud of it.”

Her gaze drops to the glass again. “You can have it if you’d like.”

I lift an eyebrow.

She turns fully toward me now, and something almost nervous flickers across her face. “In fact, maybe it would be a good idea if you had it.”

I smile, trying to put her at ease. “Trying to get me drunk, Ms. Owens?”

A small smile touches her lips. Then it disappears almost immediately.

That concerns me far more than anything else she has done all afternoon.

I cross the room toward her, stopping a few feet away. “Blair. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Her brows furrow, and I can tell she's far away right now.

“You have been acting strangely all day.”

“I have not been strange.”

“You nearly jumped out of your skin when I knocked on your window, you looked like you might be sick in the garage, and you have spent the last two hours pretending everything is perfectly normal.”

She exhales softly and looks toward the windows again.

I wait.

For once, I do not tease her.

The penthouse is quiet now that everyone is gone. After weeks of contractors, inspectors, brokers, attorneys, and people walking in and out of these rooms, the silence feels unfamiliar. This is the first moment it has actually felt like mine.

It should feel good.

Instead, all I can think about is Blair standing in front of me, looking as though she is bracing herself for something.

I reach out, and with a finger under her chin, I turn her to face me fully. “Is it about me?”

Her lips part, but nothing comes out, which unsettles me.

Blair always has something to say.

She glances toward her briefcase, then down at the floor, and I see her take a slow breath.

It’s not an answer, but it is enough to cause a tightening in my chest.

I keep my voice quiet. “If you have changed your mind about whatever you think I have planned for today, say so.”

Her expression changes. “Diego—”

“I mean it.” I hold her gaze. “You do not owe me anything because the sale closed. You never did.”

She stares at me for a second, and whatever I expected to see in her face, it is not what appears.

It is not relief.

It is… devastation?