Page 97 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

The dismissal is polite, but definite. I turn toward the waiting car before I can spend too much time wondering what happened on that phone earlier or why his mood shifted so quickly afterward.

The ride back to the hotel is quiet. By the time I reach my suite, Milan is glowing beyond the windows, all warm stone and scattered lights stretching between the rooftops. For a few minutes, I stand there wishing I had seen more of it than conference rooms, offices, restaurants, and the back seat of a car.

Then I turn away and start packing. Most of my things are still organized from the flight, so it does not take long. I fold the last dress into my suitcase, set tomorrow’s clothes aside, and check the messages waiting on my phone before opening my notebook one final time. Grace has sent a reminder about the draft deadline.

I close the notebook, set the alarm, turn out the light, and let the room go quiet.

Chapter Fourteen

Sophie

The helicopter touches down on a private helipad carved into the hillside above the lake, and even before the rotors begin to slow, I understand why Julian had looked almost amused when I asked how long the drive would take.

Lake Como stretches below us in a sweep of deep blue framed by mountains, villas, terraced gardens, and clusters of pale stone buildings tucked into the green slopes. From this height, boats leave narrow white trails across the water, and sunlight flashes against the lake with enough force that I have to narrow my eyes when I step out.

Julian comes around the helicopter before I can reach for anyone else’s assistance.

“Watch your step,” he says, extending his hand.

I place mine in his.

His fingers close securely around mine as I step down, and the contact sends a familiar warmth up my arm. He keeps hold of me until both of my feet are firmly on the ground, his other hand briefly settling against my waist when the uneven surface throws off my balance.

“I’ve got you,” Julian says.

“I’m fine.”

“I know.”

He releases me only after I am steady. The words are ordinary. His hand against my body is considerably less so.

I smooth my blue sheath dress and follow him toward a waiting vehicle that takes us down a narrow private road toward the water. Julian says very little during the short ride. He checks one message, responds to it, then puts his phone away and leaves it there. I notice because I have grown accustomed to seeing the device somewhere within reach of his hand.

At the bottom of the hill, a polished wooden speedboat waits at a private landing.

“This keeps getting more subtle,” I say.

Julian glances toward the boat.

“You preferred the helicopter?”

“I’m still processing the helicopter.”

“You survived.”

“Barely.”

His mouth curves.

The boat captain takes our luggage while Julian steps aboard first. He turns immediately and offers me his hand again. This time I hesitate for half a second before taking it. Julian notices. His eyes lift to mine, but he says nothing.

I step onto the boat, and his hand shifts from mine to my waist as the hull rocks gently beneath my feet. My body tightens at the contact. The breeze carries the clean, masculine scent of him toward me, and for one dangerous second, I am aware of almost nothing except his palm against the side of my body.

Then he lets go.

“Sit,” Julian says. “It gets faster once we clear the dock.”

I lower myself onto the leather seat and look toward the lake before my expression can give me away. The boat cuts across the water minutes later, the wind pulling loose strands of hair from around my face as we move between steep green hills and villas that seem to rise directly from the shoreline. Some are ornate and theatrical, others nearly hidden behind stone walls and cypress trees.