Page 34 of Filthy Rich Silver Foxes
“Thank you again,” I say, and hate how breathless it sounds.
He gives a single nod. Sharp. Final.
And I leave with my heart racing and the distinct feeling that I’ve just stepped onto a very different playing field.
Chapter10
Max
She’s not what I expected.
I don’t usually take meetings off a referral, but Sebastian rarely offers praise. When he does, it means something. Plus, his strange behavior about the girl made me want to dig a little deeper.
Still, I assumed I’d get another over-eager planner trying to impress me with glossy mood boards and Pinterest energy. I wasn’t expecting her.
Genevieve St. Claire walks in with polished professionalism and a spark just beneath the surface. It’s not arrogance. It’s something quieter. Earned. The way she carries herself, the way she answers questions, the way she pushes back without sounding combative. She knows she has something to prove. And I can tell she’s used to people doubting her.
She’s well-spoken. Articulate. Precise. But there’s a moment—just a flicker—where her confidence cracks. A shift in posture. A falter in her voice. She recovers quickly, but I notice.
I notice a lot more than I should.
The silk of her blouse. The slight shake in her hand before she steadies it. The way her eyes dart to my mouth when she thinks I’m not watching. Her perfume—not heavy or artificial, just...soft. Fresh. Feminine. It lingers after she’s gone.
She’s nervous.
And for reasons I can’t explain, I don’t want her to be.
I keep things professional. I always do. The world I live in requires discipline—walls that stay up no matter how many people try to climb them. I’ve built a career on control. On not letting distractions interfere with the goal. But she walks in and suddenly, I’m aware of the curve of her mouth and the flush creeping up her neck when I don’t look away. I’m not even sure I can.
It’s not about attraction. Or maybe it is. I don’t know. I just know that I can't seem to keep my eyes off her. She’s young. Talented. Trying hard not to show how much she cares about making the right impression. There’s something vulnerable beneath all that polish. And determined. It’s a dangerous combination.
I’m almost sad to see her leave when our meeting comes to an end.
The moment the door clicks shut behind her, my phone buzzes. I don’t check it right away. I wait. Because I need a beat to pull my head back where it belongs.
When I finally glance at the screen, Naomi’s name lights up.
I swipe to answer. "You’re calling before noon. What’s on fire?"
"Your brain, apparently," she says dryly. "You sounded distracted in your text this morning. I figured I’d intervene before you did something uncharacteristically emotional."
I sink back in my chair. "Good morning to you, too."
"Don’t ‘good morning’ me. What’s her name?"
"Who says this is about a woman?"
"Because you’re weird, Max. And when you get weird, it’s either because you found a structural flaw in someone’s business plan—or a girl. I’m betting this isn’t about zoning codes."
I don’t say anything. Which is apparently all the confirmation she needs.
Naomi hums. "So? What’s she like?"
I stare out the window. "She’s smart. Young. Talented."
"Pretty?"
I pause. "Distracting."
