Page 128 of The Silver Fox Brother

"Lunch? I'm starving and you look like you could use a drink."

I hesitate for half a second, then nod.

"Yeah. Let's do it."

One hour later, we settle into a corner table in the clubhouse dining room—dark wood, leather chairs, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the course. The kind of place where deals get made over scotch and cigars.

Fletcher orders a burger. I order the steak and a scotch, neat. The waiter disappears and Fletcher leans back in his chair, studying me.

"Alright, what's going on?"

I raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"You've been distracted all morning. Quiet, even for you. Something's up."

"I'm fine."

"You're full of shit." Fletcher grins.

"Come on. We've been friends for fifteen years. I know when something's bothering you."

The waiter returns with our drinks. I take a long sip of the scotch, letting the burn settle in my chest before I answer.

"The Tribeca project," I say finally.

"It's more complicated than I expected."

Fletcher's expression shifts to concern.

"Complicated how? Budget issues? Timeline problems?"

"No. The project itself is fine. Ahead of schedule, like I said."

"Then what's the complication?"

I set down my glass and meet his eyes.

"Winter Hayes."

Fletcher's eyebrows shoot up.

"Your designer? What about her?"

I don't answer immediately. The words feel heavier than they should, like admitting this out loud makes it more real.

"We had dinner about a little over a week ago," I say carefully.

"It was supposed to be about the penthouse design. A working dinner."

"Okay..."

"It wasn't just about work."

Fletcher's eyes widen slightly, and then a slow grin spreads across his face.

"Wait. Are you telling me—"

"We ended up at the construction site afterward. There was a disagreement about a design element. We went to settle it."