Page 123 of Diego

About the moment the documents are signed, the funds transfer, and I stop being his broker.

He has been waiting six weeks for this.

And I am about to change everything.

The nausea comes so quickly that I have to swallow against it.

Oh, God.

No.

Absolutely not.

You cannot get sick right now.

Do not get sick in the garage in front of Diego.

I force myself to breathe normally and adjust my grip on the briefcase, hoping the movement gives me something ordinary to do. “We should go upstairs. Everyone is probably waiting.”

But Diego does not move. His smile has faded.

His eyes narrow slightly as he studies my face.

Shit.

“Is something the matter?” he asks.

“No.” My answer comes much too fast.

I know it. He knows it.

I shake my head and start toward the elevators. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine. We should go.”

I make it only a few steps before realizing he is not beside me.

When I turn, Diego is watching me.

“Blair.”

“I’m fine.”

He starts toward me, and suddenly every instinct I have is screaming that I need him to stay exactly where he is.

Not because I am afraid of him.

Because I am afraid he will see too much.

He stops in front of me just as the elevator indicator lights up overhead. His expression has lost every trace of teasing now.

Before I can step away, he reaches up and takes my chin lightly between his fingers.

My breath catches.

He tilts my face slightly, studying me.

Oh, God.

He can see right through me, can’t he?