“The food has already been ordered,” Lacey reminded him. “That’s why Charlie and Roy are going downstairs.”

“We’re still taking a solid hour for lunch.” Rock eyed Reid. “You need to learn how to take some time for yourself, bro.”

I stood there, mesmerized by the dynamic. Rock, the reluctant CEO, a biker from Montana in the position only because his dead father’s will mandated it. Reid, the youngest brother who’d been groomed to take over but relegated to second fiddle.

And behind me, the middle brother. Roy Wolfe. Quiet. Creative. A reclusive genius. An old soul.

Nothing like either of his brothers.

A truly magnificent work of art in himself. The gods had definitely smiled on him when he was born.

“They’ll be arguing about this for a while,” Roy said quietly. “Let’s go.”

We left the conference room and Roy closed the door behind us.

Silence as we walked to the elevator.

Silence as Roy pressed L for lobby.

Silence as we descended. Roy seemed…rigid.

Silence when the door opened, and we walked across the tiled floor.

The thought-provoking painting again drew my gaze, and I slowed my pace. Then I turned to Roy. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”

“Because I wanted you to see me as the artist, not as Roy Wolfe.”

“I don’t even know Roy Wolfe. Why would it have mattered?”

“Because I wanted your honest opinion. Not the opinion you’d give an heir to the Wolfe fortune.”

“What makes you think I wouldn’t have been honest?”

He chuckled. “No one wants to criticize a Wolfe, silver.”

Silver? “Uh…what?”

“You heard me.”

“My name’s Charlie.”

“I know that.”

“Then why did you call me silver?”

“Your eyes. They’re silver. Sparkling silver. I’ve never seen eyes like yours.”

Wow. Double Wow. My eyes were gray, maybe a hint of blue. Honestly, my most mundane feature. Sparkling silver? Not even close.

“I’d like to paint those eyes,” he continued.

Wow again.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

“Looks like lunch is here.” Roy strode toward a young guy carrying two bags with a nearby Indian restaurant logo on them.

For a few seconds, I stood dumbly, unable to make my feet follow him. I simply gaped at him, his suit fitting so perfectly on his body, his nearly black hair hanging in a silky tail over the dark gray wool.

He took the two bags, mumbled some words to the delivery guy, and then he turned back to me.

“I guess I could’ve handled this myself,” I said.

“These are actually pretty heavy,” he said. “I got them.”

“Then you don’t need me.”

“You got plans or something?”

“Well…no.” Could I be any more stupid? “I mean, just lunch upstairs with the rest of you.”

He laughed softly. “That’s what I thought.”