Page 33 of The Silver Fox Brother

"I know."

He leaves, and I'm alone in the locker room. I sit there for a moment, towel around my neck, looking at nothing in particular.

Fletcher's right. This project deserves the best. Which means the shortlist Marcus is compiling better have someone on it who can execute vision without compromise, who understands that luxury doesn't mean cold, who can deliver on a six-month timeline without cutting corners.

I stand, head for the showers, let the hot water work through the tension still lingering in my shoulders from the game.

By the time I'm dressed and heading back to the car, it's 1:47 PM. Victor is waiting at the curb with the Bentley.

"Back to the office, Mr. Sterling?"

"Yes. And I'll need the car again at six-thirty tonight."

"Of course."

I settle into the back seat, pull out my phone, and text Marcus.

Knox: How's that designer list coming?

His response is almost immediate.

Marcus: Just finished. Ten firms. I’ll have it on your desk this afternoon.

Knox: Good. I'll review it this afternoon.

I pocket my phone and look out the window as Victor navigates through midday traffic.

The afternoon moves like it always does—fast, relentless, no breathing room between one thing and the next.

I'm back at the office by 2:15, still riding the post-racquetball endorphin high, but there's no time to sit with it. Marcus has already lined up the rest of my day in fifteen-minute increments, each block color-coded on my calendar like a military operation.

Lunch is a salad Marcus ordered from the place downstairs—grilled chicken, mixed greens, something with vinaigrette that I eat at my desk while reviewing contract amendments for the Queens project. I taste none of it. Food is fuel, nothing more, and right now I need fuel to get through the next four hours.

At 2:30 PM sharp, my PR team calls. Melissa, the account director who's been trying to get me on magazine covers for the past three years.

"Knox. Hi. I'll keep this brief because I know you're busy."

"Appreciate that."

"Manhattan Magazine wants you for their October issue.'The Developers Reshaping New York.'It's a cover feature. Full spread, interview, photo shoot at one of your properties. It's incredible exposure."

I lean back in my chair, already knowing my answer.

"No."

"Knox—"

"The building is the story, Melissa. Not me. If Manhattan Magazine wants to feature Sterling Tower, I'll give them access to the site, the renderings, the vision. But I'm not doing a photo shoot."

There's a pause on the other end. She's heard this before.

"They specifically want you. The developer behind the vision. Readers want to know who's building these spaces."

"Then they can read the architectural plans. My answer is no."

Another pause. "Can I at least tell them you'll think about it?"

"You can tell them I appreciate the interest, but my position hasn't changed. The work speaks for itself."