Page 49 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

Sophie’s eyebrows lift slightly.

“I’m not sure whether that’s reassuring coming from a general counsel.”

“It depends on the article,” Vivian replies.

“The Lockridge series?”

“Reassuring for me,” Vivian says. “Probably less so for Lockridge.”

Sophie smiles. “That seems fair.”

Vivian keeps her gaze on Sophie for another moment before releasing her hand. The appraisal is not hostile, but it is unmistakable. Vivian does not meet anyone without assessing the possible consequences of their presence.

Marcus joins us, and I introduce him as the head of corporate development. Within minutes, Sophie is speaking with all three of them as though she has attended Blackwell dinners for years. She asks Marcus about the company’s recent investment strategy, listens closely to Vivian’s explanation of regulatory exposure, and redirects Preston when he attempts to turn a question into a speech.

She does it without forcing the conversation or performing intelligence for the room. She simply pays attention, which is rarer than it should be. I remain beside her longer than necessary.

When a server approaches with champagne, Sophie takes a glass and thanks him. Her fingers curve around the stem as she turns back toward Vivian.

“Do you review every major engineering partnership before it reaches the board?” Sophie asks.

“Only the ones capable of creating an international incident,” Vivian replies.

“That sounds like most technology partnerships.”

Vivian’s mouth shifts into the faintest smile.

“You may survive this dinner after all.”

Sophie laughs, and I find myself watching the movement of her lips instead of listening to Marcus’s response. She glances at me, catching my attention before I can redirect it. Neither of us looks away immediately.

“Are you going to tell me where I’m sitting?” Sophie asks.

I recover first. “Beside me.”

Something flickers in her expression, though her smile remains composed.

“Convenient,” she says.

“For the interview,” I reply.

“Of course.”

Vivian looks between us but says nothing. A server opens the doors to the adjoining dining room, signaling that the table is ready. The other guests begin moving toward their seats, but Sophie remains beside me.

“Would you excuse me for a moment?” she asks.

“I’d like to find the powder room before dinner.”

“It’s at the end of the corridor, on the left,” I tell her.

“Thank you.”

She passes close enough that her fragrance catches me again before she disappears through the doors. I watch the empty corridor for a second longer than I should. When I turn back, Vivian is still standing near the table, observing me with the same measured focus she usually reserves for contracts containing hidden liabilities.

I hold her gaze. Vivian lifts one eyebrow, then takes her seat without saying a word. Preston waits until Sophie disappears into the corridor before leaning closer to me.

“You’re letting a reporter get awfully comfortable,” he says.