Page 81 of Wrong Room, Right Billionaire

“More like thirty,” I say, and he just stares at me. I laugh again. “It’s fine. I promise. Everyone is doing it.”

“Aren’t you familiar with the phrase if everyone was jumping off a bridge…?” he asks.

And I choose to ignore him. Because I am doing this. I’ve always wanted to do this. And like I told him, I’m not afraid. Not of heights or anything else. I follow the group of people up to one of the lower ledges, which is about a third as high as the waterfall itself. So maybe about twelve feet. Honestly, I’d jump from the high peak except for the fact that I am pregnant.

It’s obvious that I am new, but the locals are lovely and kind as usual, even giving me some pointers.

“Saltar al medio,” one of them tells me, pointing into a central space down in the water.

“In the middle.” I nod.

“Sí.” He smiles. “Lejos de las rocas.”

Away from the rocks. Got it.

I take a deep breath and look down at Morgan, who is staring up at me from the shore. Then, with a wild cry, I leap, landing in the cool pool below with an exciting swoosh.

When I resurface, I can hear everyone cheering, and I pump a fist in the air, mentally checking another item off my bucket list.

“Muy bien,” one of the women says.

“Si!” I tell her. “Eso fue muy divertido!” That was very fun.

We laugh and joke for a moment, and I glance back at Morgan over my shoulder, who is still standing by the shore. I have to squint against the sun to see him, but I am pretty sure he is smiling.

“Marido?” someone asks me. Husband.

I giggle nervously. “Oh no. He’s my boss,” I blurt out and then realize that’s probably kind of weird, even though it is true.

“Boss.” They nod, not totally buying it.

“Yeah,” I blush, looking at him again. “And my Prometido.”

Fiancé.

And even though it feels weird to call him that…it also doesn’t. It’s a cocktail of swirling feelings, and honestly, I kind of like the static in my chest. Like a sparkler on the Fourth of July.

“He’s handsome,” one of the girls says, and everyone agrees, including me.

“Yes. He really is,” I say before making my way back over to him. I swim until I can touch and then stand, sashaying back in his direction.

“Well?” I ask. “What do you think? Too crazy?”

“I’m not sure it matters what I think as much as what your followers think,” Morgan tells me, and I give him an odd look.

“What are you talking about?” I ask as I approach him, my chest still rising and falling from the adrenaline.

“I mean, I posted this less than three minutes ago and they’re already going nuts over it,” he says and sure enough, Morgan got the whole thing on camera, posting it under BaleResorts.

“Oh my God,” I say, half gasping and half laughing. He also tagged my account in the post, so if I had to guess, my phone is exploding as well.

“They love it,” he says.

“I guess that’s a good thing,” I tell him.

“I think it’s a great thing,” he says. Then he puts his phone away and pulls me into him again. “But you know what’s even better?”

“What’s that?”