Page 80 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

“I think I would still write,” I say.

“But maybe not the same way.”

“What way?”

“Less like I had something to prove.”

The words leave me before I can reconsider them.

Julian’s expression changes.

“To whom?” he asks.

I give a small shrug. “Everyone, probably.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It can be.”

His eyes remain on mine. The space between us feels narrower than it did a moment ago. I reach for another document at the same time Julian does, and our fingers brush across the paper.

Neither of us moves immediately. His hand is warm against mine. The contact is slight, but it pulls every memory of Boston sharply back into focus. My pulse stutters. Julian looks down at our hands, then up at me. For one suspended second, we are standing too close.

Close enough that I can see the pale blue of his eyes darken.

Close enough that I can smell his aftershave.

Close enough that if either of us leaned forward, the question would disappear.

I pull my hand away first.

“I should probably get started,” I say, reaching for my notebook.

“Grace is expecting pages by tonight.”

Julian straightens slightly.

“Right.”

I gather the folders I need and force my attention onto the labels.

“Thank you for bringing me down here,” I tell him.

“You’re welcome.”

I look at him once more. His expression has gone controlled again, but not cold.

That almost makes it worse.

“I’ll see you upstairs,” I say.

“You will.”

I turn and head toward the door before I can change my mind about leaving. By the time I reach the corridor, my breathing is too shallow and every nerve in my body feels awake.

***

Later that afternoon, I am back in the visitor office with my laptop open and the archive notes spread across the desk when Daniel appears at the door carrying a slim file folder.