Page 115 of The Silver Fox Brother

"So have you,” I respond.

"Exactly. We both need to eat. Might as well eat together.”

The statement sounds more like a command than a suggestion.

I hesitate, my materials still in my arms. This is different from the lunch we had weeks ago. Lunch was midday, quick, professional. Dinner is evening, longer, more personal.

"Unless you'd rather not," Knox adds.

"No. I mean, yes. Dinner is fine."

"Good. I'll make a call."

He pulls out his phone and speaks to someone briefly. I can't hear the full conversation, just his voice confirming a time. He hangs up and looks at me.

"Table in twenty minutes. It's close. We can walk."

"What about your driver?"

"I gave Victor the evening off."

Something about that statement feels significant, but I don't examine it too closely.

"Okay," I say. "Let me drop these materials in my office."

"I'll meet you in the lobby."

By the time I return to the lobby, Knox is already there, suit jacket still on but tie loosened slightly at the collar.

We step outside into the early evening. It's late summer in Manhattan, still light out, the air warm but not oppressive. We walk side by side through the West Village, maintaining professional distance, but this feels different from walking to site visits. This feels personal.

"How's the apartment working out?" Knox asks after a block of silence.

"It's perfect. Really. Thank you again."

"Stop thanking me. It's a practical solution."

"Still. It was generous."

Knox glances at me. "You would have done the same."

"I don't have corporate apartments to offer."

"You would have found another way to help."

I look at him. "How do you know?"

"Because I've watched you work for the past two months. You solve problems. It's what you do."

There's warmth in his voice, something different from his usual professional tone.

"Is that a compliment?" I ask.

"It's an observation."

"Sounds like a compliment."

Knox almost smiles. "Take it however you want."