Page 48 of The Silver Fox Brother

"Hello, I'm looking to speak with Winter Hayes?" A male voice, professional, unfamiliar.

I shift the phone to my other ear.

"Who's calling?"

"I'm calling on behalf of Mr. Sterling's office—"

Mr. Sterling. Rowan's office. He must need something, maybe running late for dinner plans I've forgotten about.

I cut in. "Yes, this is Winter Hayes speaking."

There's a brief pause. "Oh, hello Ms. Hayes. This is Marcus from Sterling Luxury Developments. Mr. Sterling would like to schedule a meeting to discuss a potential project. Would you have availability this week?"

My pen stops mid-note.

Sterling Luxury Developments.

Not Sterling Commercial. Not Rowan's office.

Knox.

I set my pen down carefully, my brain scrambling to catch up.

"I'm sorry—could you say that again?"

Marcus doesn't miss a beat, his tone professional, measured.

"Of course. I'm calling on behalf of Knox Sterling. He's interested in meeting with you to discuss a potential design project."

Knox Sterling wants to meet with me.

Rowan's brother. The one who left the family business years ago and hasn't looked back. The one person Rowan can barely mention without tension creeping into his voice.

I realize I haven't responded. "What kind of project?"

"Mr. Sterling prefers to discuss the details in person," Marcus says smoothly.

"But I can tell you it's a potential design project, and he'd at least like to tell you about it. See if it might be of interest to you."

"I see." I pull my calendar closer, my mind still trying to piece together how this is happening. Knox Sterling—who I've maybe spoken to five times in two years, brief hellos at family gatherings—somehow knows about my firm.

The curiosity hits before I can stop it.What kind of project?I shouldn't be curious. This is complicated territory—Rowan's brother, family politics I don't fully understand, lines I probably shouldn't cross. But I’m curious.

"When were you thinking?" The question comes out before I've decided whether to say yes.

"Would tomorrow afternoon work? 2pm?"

Tomorrow. Less than twenty-four hours from now.

I glance at my calendar. Thursday afternoon is open—I'd blocked it for design work, nothing that can't be moved.

Say no. Tell him you need to check your schedule. Call Rowan first.

But the word that comes out is different.

"Thursday at two works."

"Excellent." I hear typing on Marcus's end.