Page 133 of The Silver Fox Brother

Deep down, I know there's a bigger reason I'm asking her to come. But I'm not ready to examine it too closely.

Winter crosses her arms. "I need to check my schedule. Coordinate with my other clients."

"This isn't a request."

Her eyes flash. "Excuse me?"

"We leave Thursday morning. I have my private jet. We'll return Friday evening or Saturday morning depending on how the meetings go."

Winter stares at me, and I can see the war happening behind her eyes. Anger. Frustration. Something else I can't name.

"I don't appreciate being ordered around like I'm one of your employees," she says, her voice tight.

"You signed a contract that includes travel as needed for project consultation."

"This is ridiculous," she says.

"This is business," I say sternly.

We're locked in a stare, neither of us backing down. The air between us is charged, electric, the same tension that's been building since the construction site.

Winter turns abruptly to leave and without thinking, I reach out and grab her arm. The move is involuntary, instinctive. My hand wraps around her wrist and she stops mid-step.

She turns back to face me, and suddenly we're standing close. Too close. Our eyes lock. Her breathing quickens, matching mine. We're inches apart, close enough that I can smell her perfume, can see the rapid pulse at her throat.

We're breathing the same breath, the space between us disappearing. I should let go of her arm, but I don't move. Neither does she. For a suspended moment, it feels like we're about to kiss. Like the only logical conclusion to this tension is for me to pull her against me and finish what we started at the construction site.

Winter's lips part slightly.

"Fine," she says, and the word comes out slow, deliberate.

She pulls her arm from my grasp with measured control, turns, and walks out of my office. The door closes behind her with a sharp click. I'm left standing there, my heart beating out of my chest, my cock hard and straining against my pants.

Chapter Fifteen

Winter

The next day, I'm on the phone with the Brooklyn Heights clients discussing their brownstone renovation timeline when my email pings.

I glance at the screen while the client is talking and see a message from Marcus with the subject line:

Naples Travel Itinerary - Thursday Departure.

I click it open. Detailed flight charter information. Departure time from Teterboro Airport. Car pickup from my apartment at 6am Thursday morning. Return flight options for Friday evening or Saturday morning.

I shake my head at the reminder of this upcoming trip.

The client asks me a question and I refocus on the call,walking through material selections and installation schedules until we wrap up twenty minutes later.

Maya appears in my doorway as I'm hanging up.

"Do you have a minute?" she asks.

"Sure. What do you need?"

She steps inside, tablet in hand.

"I'm looking at your schedule for the rest of the week. You have three client meetings scheduled for Thursday and Friday. Do you want me to move them?"