Page 74 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

He finishes the last few details, confirms the car service and hotel arrangements once more, then leaves the folio on my desk before stepping out.

I wait until the door closes before opening the itinerary again. I read the page once, then again, then twice more, as though some part of the schedule will change if I stare at it long enough. I reach for my phone and call Daniel before he makes it back to his office.

“Yes?” he answers.

“Update the itinerary.”

There is a brief pause.

“What do you want changed?”

“After Milan, the final interview moves to Lake Como.”

Daniel is quiet for a second.

“At the estate?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“Three days.”

I lean back in my chair and look at the itinerary still open in front of me.

“Contact the estate manager and tell him to prepare everything,” I say.

“Guest suite, transportation, staff, the usual.”

“And Ms. Callahan?”

“She’ll come with me.”

Daniel does not comment.

“I’ll update the schedule and send the revised version to both of you,” he says.

“Do that.”

I end the call and set the phone beside the folio. The decision is practical. The estate gives her access to the family history, the private archives, and a part of Blackwell that no conference room in Manhattan can explain. That’s the reason.

I look down at the page again. Three days on Lake Como suddenly feels like a very long time.

Chapter Eleven

Sophie

The visitor office Blackwell has given me for the next few days sits three corridors away from the executive wing, far enough from Julian’s office that I can almost pretend the distance is useful.

By 9:30, I have my laptop open, two folders spread across the desk, and a string of messages from Grace waiting in my inbox. The room itself is more generous than anything I need, with a wide desk, a low bookshelf, and windows overlooking Manhattan. Someone has stocked the small cabinet with coffee, bottled water, and enough office supplies to support a hostile takeover. It would be easy to disappear into the work.

I try my best. Grace has sent comments on my Boston notes, along with three questions she wants me to follow up on before Italy. I work through them one by one, adding references to the engineering interviews and flagging several points that need verification against the company archives.

For twenty minutes, my concentration holds, then my mind betrays me: The feeling of Julian’s hand at the back of my neck. The weight of his body over mine. The feel of his mouth against my skin. The girth of his cock, filling me entirely. Heat moves through me so quickly that I stop typing. I lean back in the chair and press my fingertips against my temple.

“Get it together,” I whisper.

The office remains stubbornly quiet. I pick up my coffee and take a long drink before returning to the screen. I manage another page of notes before the memory shifts again, this time catching on the rough warmth of his chest beneath my palms and the sound of my name in his voice. My thighs tighten involuntarily. I close my eyes for half a second, then force them open.