Page 102 of The Silver Fox Brother

We hang up, and I sit back in my chair, staring at my laptop screen.

Apartment hunting. I've been living in a hotel in the Financial District for three weeks now, and while the hotel is fine—comfortable, clean, functional—it's not home. I need my own space. Need to stop living out of a suitcase and start rebuilding the life I walked away from when I left Rowan.

My phone buzzes with a text. Unknown number.

I open it.

Unknown: I miss you. Please call me.

Rowan.

I delete the text and block the number. That's the fourth number I've blocked this month. He keeps finding new ones. I set my phone face-down on my desk and take a breath.

I haven't seen Rowan in three weeks. Haven't spoken to himin three weeks. The last time was the night I left, and I have no intention of breaking that streak now.

My email pings. Message from Marcus at Sterling Luxury:

Subject: Meeting Confirmation - Wednesday 11 AM

Ms. Hayes,

Mr. Sterling is available Wednesday at 11 AM in his office. He'd like to review progress on all three units and discuss timeline for the next phase. Please bring updated renderings and material selections.

Best,

Marcus

I type a quick response confirming the meeting, then pull up the project files for Sterling Tower. I haven't seen Knox in a week. We had two video check-ins while he was in Dallas—brief, professional, focused entirely on project milestones and budget updates. No charged moments through a screen. No proximity. No awareness of the way his hands move when he gestures or the way he listens with complete focus.

Just business. Which is exactly what it should be.

I tell myself I don't miss seeing him in person. Don't miss the eleven AM meetings in his officeor mine, don't miss standing close enough to catch his cologne, don't miss the way he challenges my design choices and trusts my expertise in equal measure.

I'm lying to myself. But I'm getting very good at it.

Maya knocks on my doorframe.

"Sterling fabric samples are on your desk. Also, lunch?"

I glance at my watch:11:45.

"I'll grab something later. I need to review these samples and prep for tomorrow's apartment showings."

Maya gives me a look. "You need to eat."

"I will. Later."

She doesn't look convinced but doesn't push.

"Let me know if you need anything."

She leaves, and I'm alone with my laptop, my project files, and the fabric samples waiting on my desk.

Minutes later, there's a knock on my office door.

Maya appears holding a large bouquet of flowers. Expensive roses, clearly from a high-end florist, arranged in a crystal vase.

"These just arrived," she says, setting them on the corner of my desk.