Page 16 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

"I suppose I can spare sixty seconds."

The voice reaches the room before he does. Low. Even. Controlled. Then he steps through the doorway. For the briefest moment, everything else fades into the background. He's tall, just as his brother— 6'3"—with broad shoulders that fill out the dark charcoal suit he's wearing as though it had been tailored stitch by stitch for him alone. The jacket hangs perfectly across his frame, the crisp white shirt beneath open at the collar just enough to soften what is otherwise an unmistakably commanding presence.

He isn't handsome in the polished, approachable way Adrian is. He's...I struggle to find the right word before my brain seems to stop cooperating altogether.

Striking.

There isn't a single feature competing for attention. Everything simply works together. Strong jaw. Dark hair that's been pushed back with careless fingers rather than painstaking effort, although unlike his brother, Julian has some salt and pepper streaks at his temples and his crown, which elevates his appeal tenfold. A light shadow along his jaw that suggests the beginning of a beard by day's end.

Then his eyes meet mine. Blue. Not simply blue, but a clear, piercing shade that somehow manages to be both startlingly bright and completely unreadable at the same time. For one impossible heartbeat, the room disappears. I forget the carefully rehearsed introduction I'd been mentally practicing since leaving Philadelphia. All I'm aware of is the unsettling sensation that this man has looked directly through every professional wall I've spent years building. It lasts less than a second. Then reality catches up with me and I realize I've forgotten to breathe.

Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

I force myself to inhale just as Adrian steps between us, blissfully unaware of the tiny internal crisis unfolding inside my head.

"Julian," Adrian says, motioning toward me, "this is Sophie Callahan."

Julian's attention never wavers. His expression doesn't change. Not noticeably, anyway. If I weren't trained to study people's reactions for a living, I might have missed the almost imperceptible flicker that passes through his eyes before disappearing as quickly as it came.

He closes the remaining distance between us. Everything about him feels... composed.

Not cold.

Controlled.

There's a difference.

"Sophie," he says.

My name sounds different in his voice.

Lower.

Slower.

As though he's testing it before deciding whether he likes it. I extend my hand.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Blackwell."

His gaze drops briefly to my hand before returning to my face. Then he takes it. His handshake is firm. Warm. Confident. Not lingering. Not rushed. Professional. Yet the instant our hands meet, a strange awareness shoots unexpectedly through me. It's nothing dramatic. Nothing anyone else in the room could possibly notice, just...awareness.

The unmistakable realization that I'm suddenly, acutely conscious of myself. The warmth of his hand. The closeness between us. The fact that he's several inches taller than me. The faint scent of cedarwood and something clean I can't quite place.

My pulse betrays me with one hard beat against my ribs. I withdraw my hand a fraction sooner than I normally would. I have to remind myself to stay professional.

"I'm looking forward to working with you," I say, relieved that my voice sounds perfectly steady.

"So am I."

His answer is short and a matter-of-fact.

No unnecessary charm.

No effortless charisma like Adrian.

If Adrian naturally fills a room with warmth, Julian seems to command one simply by existing in it. It's... unnerving. Adrian looks back and forth between us with an amused smile.

"I was just telling Sophie she should spend some time with you while she's here."