Page 36 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

Julian: Works for me.

I set the phone down. Steve has always been predictable in the best possible way. We met our freshman year at MIT after discovering we were the only two people in a systems engineering seminar willing to argue with the professor's mathematical assumptions. Most people avoided debating faculty. Steve considered it entertainment. Twenty-five years later, not much has changed.

The members' club sits only a few blocks from the office, tucked behind an understated limestone façade that reveals nothing about the conversations taking place inside. Steve is already seated when I arrive. He raises his glass.

"You're late," he says.

I glance at my watch.

"I'm 2 minutes early," I say.

"Exactly," he says.

I laugh quietly as I take the chair across from him.

"How's Hannah?" I ask.

His entire expression softens.

"Good," he says.

"Still putting up with you?" I ask.

"Barely," he says.

The bartender places a bourbon in front of me without asking. Steve notices.

"You spend too much time here," he says.

"They know what I drink," I say.

"They know where you sit," he says.

"They're observant," I say.

"They're concerned," he says.

I shake my head.

"So," I ask, "how are things?"

"Honestly?" he asks.

"When have you ever answered dishonestly?" I ask.

He grins.

"Fair point," he says.

He takes a sip.

"I think she's the one," he says.

I stare at him.

"The one?" I ask.

"I know," he says.