Page 61 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

We step inside alone.

I press the button for my floor, and the doors slide shut.

The silence changes the instant we are enclosed together.

Julian stands beside me, close enough that I can feel the warmth of him without being touched. I keep my eyes on the glowing numbers above the doors for several seconds before looking over. He is watching me. Neither of us smiles.

The elevator continues upward while the tension between us tightens with every passing floor, and by the time the doors open, there is no longer any question about why he is coming to my room.

As the elevator doors open onto a quiet corridor, I step out first. Julian follows a pace behind me, close enough that I can feel his presence without looking back. The hallway seems longer than it did last night, every muted footstep stretching the distance between the elevator and my room.

My heartbeat has gone uneven.

I can still smell him, that clean masculine scent that followed me through dinner and the walk back, and the awareness of him behind me makes my skin prickle beneath the fabric of my dress. The entire evening feels as though it has narrowed to this moment so quickly that I have barely caught up with it. I know exactly why he is here. I know why I invited him upstairs. Somehow, knowing does nothing to make the anticipation easier.

When I reach my door, I open my handbag and search for the key card. It is nowhere near where I thought I put it. I move aside my lipstick, wallet, and phone, suddenly far too aware that Julian is standing directly behind me.

“You’re making me nervous,” I say, still looking into my bag.

His voice comes low and close.

“I haven’t done anything.”

“That might be the problem.”

A quiet laugh leaves him. I finally find the card and pull it free. My fingers are less steady than I would like as I swipe it across the lock. The light flashes green, and I push the door open.

The suite is dark until I reach for the switch near the entrance. Warm light spreads across the living room, catching the cream furniture, the polished wood, and the wide windows overlooking the city.

Julian steps inside and glances around.

“I see they took care of you,” he says.

“They did.”

“I’m glad.”

I set my handbag on the console table and move toward the small kitchen area because standing still feels impossible.

“I only have whatever they stocked in the minibar,” I say.

“There’s wine. Vodka. Probably something overpriced pretending to be whiskey.”

Julian follows at an unhurried pace.

“Wine is fine.”

I open the minibar and pull out a bottle of wine, then another smaller bottle before turning toward him.

“Either?”

He closes the remaining distance between us and places his hand lightly over the bottle in mine.

“Either is fine,” he says.

His eyes never leave mine. The room goes very quiet. I look down at his hand over mine, then back at his face. His gaze is steady, but there is nothing casual in it now. My eyes drift to his mouth before I can stop myself, and when I look back up, I know he noticed.

Neither of us says anything. Together, we lower the bottles onto the counter. Julian remains in front of me, close enough that I have to tilt my head slightly to hold his gaze. His hand lifts, slow enough to give me every opportunity to move away, and his fingertips brush along my jaw before settling lightly against the side of my face.