Page 121 of Diego

Stop.

I draw another breath, but it catches halfway.

My heart is beating too fast now.

I know what is happening, which doesn’t seem to help stop the panic attack creeping over me.

I push my chair closer to the desk and lower my eyes to the documents, trying to give myself something concrete to look at.

I see some more of the closing papers.

My pulse pounds harder.

I have to tell him.

Today.

I know I do.

I just have absolutely no idea what happens after I say the words.

Oh, God. I'm going to have a panic attack right here in the middle of the office. I press my fingernails into my palm, hoping the pain will help.

It doesn't

Then my phone rings.

The sharp sound jolts straight through me, snapping the spiral apart so suddenly that I nearly jump.

And suddenly I can breathe again.

Thank God.

I grab the receiver before it can ring a second time.

“Blair Owens.”

I pull the Corvette into a space in the building’s private garage a little before 2:00 and turn off the engine, but I make no move to get out.

For several seconds, I sit there with both hands resting on the steering wheel and listen to the faint ticking of the engine as it cools.

My briefcase is on the passenger seat beside me, packed with everything I could possibly need. I have checked and rechecked the file so many times that I could probably recite it from memory.

Upstairs, Jonathan Montes is waiting with Martin Keller and his attorney, Priya Sethi. Diego’s attorney, Nadia Halpern, confirmed this morning that she would be there, along with Callum Greer, the title-company closer handling the actual transaction.

Building management has already arranged final access, the funds are ready, the documents have been reviewed, and barring some last-minute catastrophe, Diego Conti is going to own the penthouse before I leave today.

And somewhere in the middle of all of that, I have to tell him I am pregnant.

My stomach rolls.

I close my eyes and breathe in slowly through my nose.

Just get through the closing.

That is all I have to do first.

Walk upstairs. Be Blair Owens, real estate broker. Smile at the appropriate people. Review whatever needs reviewing. Answer questions. Make sure the transaction I have spent the last six weeks shepherding toward completion actually closes. Then, when everyone else is gone, and Diego is standing inside the penthouse he finally owns, I can destroy whatever plans he thinks he has for the rest of his afternoon.