Page 95 of Diego

“I understand the building had an incident while you were there.”

My pulse jumps. “Yes. There was a small electrical fire on a lower floor. We were instructed to shelter in place while the fire department handled it.”

“So you ended up staying longer than anticipated.”

I almost choke. “A little longer, yes.”

Leah glances toward me.

I angle farther away and focus very hard on the edge of my desk.

Martin continues, completely unaware of my suffering. “Did Mr. Conti spend much time in the primary suite?”

My eyes close.

Oh, God.

“Yes.”

Far too much.

“What did he think of it?”

“He liked it.”

That may be the greatest understatement of my professional career.

“The windows are usually what people respond to most.”

“They certainly made an impression.”

A significant one.

“Good. And the kitchen?”

I stare at my computer screen.

Why does he have to ask about the kitchen?

"It's fitting for the level of cooking he enjoys."

“Did he? He'll certainly enjoy the eat-in aspect of it, then."

Quite enthusiastically.

“Yes," I say faintly. "Yes, he will."

I bite the inside of my cheek as Martin says something about the appliances and renovations. I hear approximately half of it because my mind has supplied a vivid memory of the island, and absolutely nothing about that memory belongs in a business conversation.

I force myself back into the call.

“The overall layout worked especially well for him,” I say, steering us firmly toward safer ground. “The combination of privacy and usable space probably made the biggest impression."

“Was there anything he disliked?”

“No major concerns. He’ll want a full inspection and building review, I would expect, especially after the incident yesterday, but I would expect that with any purchase at this level.”

“Of course.”