Page 46 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

His laughter fades, but his eyes remain on mine. The air between us stills. Neither of us speaks immediately, and the silence is no longer purely comfortable. It carries something warmer beneath it, something I feel in the slow beat of my pulse and the way his attention lowers briefly before returning to my eyes. I reach for my pen, though I have stopped taking notes.

“We should probably finish the last section,” I say.

“We should,” Julian replies, but he does not look away.

For another moment, neither of us moves. Then he shifts his chair closer to the table, and I turn to the next page as though the interview has not quietly become something neither of us knows how to name.

By the time I close my notebook, the clock on the wall reads 2:04 pm. Julian glances at it, then back at me, and the surprise in his expression mirrors my own.

“I think we’ve covered enough for one day,” I say as I switch off the recorder.

“We went well past the schedule,” Julian replies.

“We did.”

Neither of us moves immediately. The interview is finished, but the room still holds the quiet intensity of the last several hours, as though ending the recording has not restored the distance that existed this morning.

Julian gathers the papers in front of him, then pauses.

“Do you have plans tonight?”

The question catches me off guard.

“No,” I answer.

“I was planning to review my notes and order something at the hotel.”

“A few board members and executives are having dinner nearby,” Julian says.

“You’re welcome to join us.”

I look at him. The dinner is not listed anywhere on the itinerary, and he knows I know it.

“That sounds useful,” I say carefully.

“It should be,” he replies, though his gaze stays on mine a moment longer than the answer requires.

The silence stretches before Julian reaches for his phone, and the professional ease returns to his voice.

“I’ll have a driver pick you up at 6:30,” he says.

“The restaurant isn’t far from your hotel, but it’ll be easier.”

“Thank you,” I tell him.

“I’ll be ready.”

Julian opens the door and speaks to a staff member passing in the corridor.

“Would you walk Ms. Callahan to the entrance? Her car should be waiting.”

“Of course,” the woman replies.

I gather my handbag and notebook, then turn back toward Julian.

“I’ll see you tonight,” I say.

“You will,” he answers.