Page 110 of The Silver Fox Brother

Winter closes the refrigerator, bottle of sparkling water in hand, but doesn't leave immediately.

"By the way," she says, and I look up.

"Thank you. For the apartment. For helping with all of that."

"You went with the Greenwich Village place?"

"Yes. I moved in over the weekend."

There's something in her expression—pleased, maybe relieved—that makes me set down my espresso cup.

"And it's working out?" I ask.

Winter nods, then pauses. "Actually, it's kind of a coincidence. I used to live two blocks from that apartment. So I'm back in the neighborhood I loved."

Something in my chest tightens at that. I thought of the Greenwich Village location because of proximity to her studio and the Tribeca site. Pure logistics. But somehow I managed to put her back in the neighborhood she wanted.

"I had no idea," I say.

"I know. But I'm glad it worked out that way." She smiles—just slightly, but it's there.

"So thank you. Really."

"You're welcome."

We stand there for a moment, the kitchen suddenly feeling smaller than it is. Winter's fingers tighten slightly around the water bottle, and I realize I'm just staring at her.

She clears her throat. "I should get back to work."

"Right. Yes."

Winter leaves, and I'm alone with my espresso.

A few hours later, I'm walking back from a meeting with Tom when I see Winter coming down the hallway from the opposite direction, phone to her ear, clearly in the middle of a conversation with a vendor.

We pass each other. She gives me a brief nod, still talking, and I catch her perfume as she walks by. I resist the temptation of turning around.

Later that afternoon, Tom stops by to give project updates in the main conference room. It's an informal gathering—just department heads and a few project managers—and I decide to join to hear the status on some of the other developments.

I don't expect Winter to be there, but she walks in a few minutes after the meeting starts, taking a seat across the table. Tom must have invited her to get the Sterling Tower construction updates directly. Tom presents progress on three different projects. I try to focus on the data, the timelines, the budget projections but my eyes keep drifting across the table.

Winter is taking notes on her tablet, completely focused on the presentation. Our eyes meet once. Twice. Three times during the forty-minute meeting. Each time, the look holds just long enough that I lose track of what Tom is saying.

The meeting ends. People start gathering their materials, conversations breaking into smaller groups. I'm talking with two of my associates about the Naples development when I see Winter in the corner, speaking with Tom. He's explaining something, gesturing with his hands, and she's listening with the same focused attention she gives everything.

Tom says something that makes her laugh. I should be paying attention to what my associates are saying, but instead, I'm watching Winter interact with Tom, trying to understand why seeing her laugh at something he said bothers me more than it should.

"Knox?"

I refocus on the conversation in front of me.

"Sorry. What was the question?"

We finish the discussion, and I head back to my office.

Marcus patches through a call with investors for the Dallas project. We spend thirty minutes reviewing quarterly projections and market positioning. When I hang up, there's an email waiting from another investor group asking for updated timeline documentation for the Tribeca project.

I need the updated file from Winter. I pick up my desk phone and dial Marcus.