Page 117 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

“No laptop?”

“No.”

“You’re voluntarily taking time off?”

“I didn’t say anything that dramatic.”

She laughs softly. The sound makes me want to climb back into bed and forget every plan I have just made, as I fuck her senselessly. I kiss her again instead, and when I pull away, she is still smiling.

“Breakfast downstairs in an hour,” I tell her.

“That gives you time to shower and get ready.”

“And you?”

“I should probably put on clothes before Clive finds me wandering around the estate like this.”

Her gaze drifts over me with enough intention that I feel the effect immediately.

“That would probably be wise,” she says.

I look at her for another second before standing.

“An hour, Sophie.”

“I heard you.”

I leave before my self-control changes its mind.

My room is quiet when I walk in, and the first thing I see is my phone on the desk where I left it the night before. The screen is full. Missed calls. Messages. Email notifications stacked one after another.

Vivian.

Adrian.

Daniel.

Several members of the New York legal team.

I pick up the phone and scan the subject lines. The issue Vivian flagged in Milan has clearly moved beyond an early review. There are references to outside counsel, document requests, internal exposure assessments, and an urgent leadership call that happened while I was asleep.

I open one message from Adrian.

Adrian: Call me when you get this. This is moving faster than we expected.

Another from Vivian follows beneath it.

Vivian: Legal has this contained for now. I’ll brief you when you’re available.

I read through enough of the thread to understand that no decision currently requires me. Every instinct I have tells me to call New York anyway, to take control before someone else mishandles something. To spend the next three hours inside a conference call until I understand every possible outcome. I look toward the window instead. Beyond the glass, the lake is brightening beneath a clear blue sky.

My executive team is already handling the situation. For once, I decide to let them. I hold down the power button until the screen goes black, set the phone back on the desk, and walk toward the shower. When I head downstairs for breakfast, I leave it there.

By late morning, the lake looks almost unreal beneath a cloudless blue sky, the sunlight turning the water into shifting bands of sapphire and silver. After breakfast, Sophie and I take the boat toward Bellagio with no interview scheduled, no notebook between us, and, for once, no reason to watch the clock.

Sophie insists on walking without an itinerary as soon as we reach Bellagio, pulling me into narrow streets lined with cafés, small shops, and stone stairways climbing away from the waterfront. She buys a pair of sunglasses she does not need, persuades me to drink limoncello considerably earlier than I normally would, and laughs when I tell her I am beginning to question the wisdom of giving her an unscheduled day.

“You’re the one who planned the day off,” Sophie reminds me as she lifts her glass.