Page 112 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

I stop just inside.

“This is excessive.”

Julian looks back at me.

“You say that about everything here.”

“Because everything here is excessive.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it.”

I walk farther into the cellar, trailing my fingers lightly along the edge of one shelf without touching the bottles.

“What am I looking for?” I ask.

“Anything you want.”

“That is an irresponsible thing to say to someone standing in this room.”

“I’ll take the risk.”

I glance over my shoulder. Julian is watching me. The easy warmth from dinner remains in his expression, but something underneath it has sharpened. Maybe it is the wine. Maybe it is the quiet. Maybe it is the fact that there is no one else down here to interrupt the way his eyes move over me.

I turn back toward the shelves. After several minutes, I stop in front of a section of French reds and point toward one of the bottles.

“That one.”

Julian comes up beside me.

“Good choice.”

“You’re not going to tell me I picked the wrong year?”

“No.”

“Disappointing.”

He reaches past me for the bottle and his arm brushes mine. The contact is slight, but my entire body reacts as though he has done something far more deliberate. Heat moves low through me, and I step aside just enough to give him room without creating any real distance.

Julian carries the bottle to the tasting table and removes the cork with practiced ease.

“You do this often?” I ask.

“Open wine?”

“Show journalists around private cellars after dinner.”

His eyes lift to mine.

“No.”

The answer lands cleanly between us.

I move closer to the table.

Julian pours a small amount into one glass, then turns toward me rather than setting it down.

“Smell it first,” he says.