Page 67 of The Silver Fox Brother

"Anything interesting?"

I reach for my water glass, take a sip.

"Just the usual. Chen project prep mostly."

"That project is really coming together for you."

"It is."

The server returns with the wine, goes through the ritual of showing Rowan the label, pouring a taste, waiting for his approval. Rowan nods, and the server fills both our glasses before leaving the bottle on the table.

Rowan raises his glass. "To a good week."

I raise mine, and we drink.

The wine is good—rich, smooth, exactly the kind of expensive vintage Rowan always orders. I take another sip and set my glass down.

"How was your day?" I ask, because that's what I'm supposed to ask.

His face lights up.

"Good. Really good, actually. The Brooklyn development is moving faster than projected. My father was actually impressed with the timeline adjustments I proposed."

"That's great."

"It is. Means we might break ground two months early, which would give us a huge advantage in the market." He leans forward slightly, animated now.

"And the investor calls this afternoon went well. We're looking at another twenty million in backing if we can finalize the zoning approvals."

"That's significant."

"It's massive. This project could be the biggest thing Sterling Commercial has done in five years."

He talks for the next ten minutes about the Brooklyn development—zoning challenges, architectural revisions, his father's evolving vision, the investors he's courting. I listen, nod at appropriate moments, ask questions that show I'm engaged.

My mind drifts.

Knox explaining his vision for Sterling Tower. The way he looked at the penthouse space, hands gesturing as he described what he wanted to create. His voice when he said, "Buildings are where people live their lives. That matters."

"Winter?"

I blink, refocus. Rowan is looking at me, wine glass halfway to his lips.

"Sorry. What?"

"I said you're quiet tonight."

"Just tired. Long day."

He sets his glass down, reaches across the table to touch my hand.

"You work too hard."

Coming from him, the statement feels ironic. But I don't say that.

"Maybe," I say instead.

The server returns to take our order. I choose the branzino. Rowan orders the ribeye, rare. The server nods and leaves.