Page 168 of Diego

I know he is right, which is irritating.

Dr. Mehta had been very clear before I left the hospital. I am not confined to bed, but the next couple of weeks are supposed to be quiet. Very quiet. No long days on my feet, no rushing between properties, no hauling files around the city, no pretending that sitting down for ten minutes between appointments qualifies as rest.

I take a bite of surprisingly creamy egg and chew slowly.

“What about Randall? What am I supposed to tell him or anyone at work? One of the owners of the company knocked me up, and now I'm on bed rest. He'll never let me live down the listing now. He’ll think I slept with you to get the sale.”

Diego’s expression hardens immediately. “Randall can think whatever the hell he wants, but he will not say it to you, and he will not use this against you.” He leans back slightly, jaw tight. “You are taking medical leave because your doctor told you to. That is all he needs to know.”

I pick at the edge of my toast. “You know that won’t stop him from putting pieces together.”

“No, but it will stop him from making it your problem.” His eyes stay on mine. “And for the record, you did not get that sale because you slept with me. I'm not going to pretend I didn't ask for you because I found you attractive, but if I genuinely thought Randall was the better broker, I would have stuck with him. But as it happened, he was a shitty broker. I wanted a new one, and you came to mind. You found the property yourself, and you closed the deal despite five weeks of delays. Fuck Randall and what he thinks.”

I look down at the tray again. “You make it sound very simple.”

“It is simple.” His voice softens. “Your work is yours, Blair. I am not letting Randall take that away from you because he’s a jealous little shit. He might not be at Meridian that much longer anyway.”

I look at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

“Let's just say we've looked more closely at his work and we're not fans. In fact, you could have his position if you wanted it.”

“No,” I say quickly. “That's not what I want. Or at least that's not how I want it. I don't want you to just give the position to me because I'm your baby mama or whatever.”

I can practically feel him fighting the grin.

My eyes narrow. “What?”

“Baby mama?”

“Oh, shut up.”

His mouth finally gives in. “Cara, I would never have guessed you had it in you.”

I point my fork at him. “I am recovering from a medical emergency. Mocking me is cruel.”

“I’m not mocking you. I’m enjoying this tremendously.”

“Which is worse.”

He laughs, but when he reaches over and lowers my fork before I can threaten him with it again, the amusement eases from his expression, and his voice softens.

“Right now, all I want you to think about is resting. All I care about is your health. Nothing is more important. That means no more work worries. Doctor’s orders.”

I sigh. “Okay, okay.” I finish a few more bites before giving up and setting the food down. “I really want a shower.”

“How about you eat a little more first?” Diego tries to push more food on me.

“I can't. I'm not comfortable. I want out of these clothes. Hospitals make me feel disgusting. I won't be able to relax until I've showered.”

“You were just discharged.”

“Nothing in the rules says I can't shower.”

He considers me for a second, then takes the tray away and sets it aside. “Fine. Shower.”

“Thank you for granting permission,” I say sarcastically.

“You are welcome.”