Page 31 of The Silver Fox Brother

Final score: 21-15.

"You're a bastard," Fletcher says, breathing hard, hands on his knees.

"You're just slow."

"I'm measured."

"That's what slow people call it."

He laughs, shaking his head. "Sarah's right. You're unbearable when you win."

"Sarah's never seen me lose."

"Neither have I, actually. It's deeply annoying."

We head for the locker room, both of us sweating through our shirts, the post-game endorphin high settling in. This is the part I need—the physical exertion, the competition, the brief escape from the relentless pace of development schedules and investor meetings.

The locker room is nearly empty, just us and one other guy at the far end who's on his phone. Fletcher heads for the showers. I grab a towel, sit on the bench, and check my own phone.

Two emails from Marcus. One from my legal team about the Vertex contract penalties. A text from James confirming drinks tonight..

Fletcher emerges from the shower, towel around his waist, hair dripping.

"So. How was the Hamptons this weekend? That big shindig your parents throw every year?"

I don't look up from my phone. "Same as always."

"That bad?"

"It's a garden party with two hundred people I mostly don't care about, making small talk about developments and market trends while pretending we're all having a wonderful time."

"Sounds delightful."

"It's tolerable." I set my phone down.

"Saw Ted Donovan from Blackstone. He's looking at financing options for a project in Brooklyn. Might be worth a conversation."

"Ted's solid. Anyone else interesting?"

"The usual suspects. David Morrison from Goldman. Katherine Vance—she's running that new private equity fund focused on real estate. My father spent half the night holding court about Sterling Commercial's Brooklyn project."

Fletcher grabs his clothes from his locker.

"And you?"

"I made an appearance. Said hello to my mother. Shook my father's hand. Left after twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes? That's generous for you."

"Diane asked me to come. I came."

Fletcher pulls on his shirt. "You talk to Rowan?"

"No."

"At all?"

"We nodded at each other across the tent. That's the extent of our interaction."