Page 118 of The Silver Fox Brother

"Why did you stay with him? Rowan?"

"I thought I loved him. Thought we were building something together. Turns out I was building alone."

"His loss."

I almost smile. "You have to say that. I'm designing your project."

"I don't have to say anything. And it's true. His loss."

The second bottle of wine is disappearing faster than the first. We're both buzzed now, the edges softened, the guards lowered.

The conversation has shifted completely. From professional to personal. From guarded to vulnerable. From designer and developer to just Knox and Winter, two people who've been circling around something for weeks without naming it.

"Can I ask about the family?" I venture.

"About why you and Rowan don't speak?"

"Don't speak is generous. We actively avoid each other," he quips.

"Why?" I ask.

Knox is quiet for a moment, turning his wine glass in his hands.

"My father expected me to take over Sterling Commercial," he says finally.

"He groomed me for it from the time I was old enough to understand what the company was. But I didn't want to build what he was building. Didn't want to be him."

"So you left."

"Ten years ago. Started Sterling Luxury from nothing. My father saw it as betrayal. Rowan was caught in the middle and chose to stay with Conrad, take the path I refused."

"And the rift never healed."

"No. Conrad doesn't forgive easily. And I don't bend."

I think about the family events I attended with Rowan over the past two years. The awkward dinners where Knox would show up, stay twenty minutes, and leave. The way Diane would watch him go with heartbreak written all over her face.

"Your mother tries," I say.

Knox nods. "She plays mediator. But she won't go against my father. Never has."

"That's why family events are so tense."

"Awkward is the word I'd use. But yes."

"I always wondered. You'd show up, stay just long enough to be polite, then leave."

Knox looks surprised. "You noticed?"

"Hard not to. Diane would look heartbroken every time you left early."

"Guilt is her specialty."

We talk for another hour. The food arrives at some point, and we eat without really tasting it. The wine keeps flowing. The conversation keeps deepening. The walls that have been carefully maintained for two months are coming down brick by brick, and neither of us is trying to stop it.

We're seeing each other now—really seeing each other. Two people who've been dancing around something unspoken since the day I walked into his office to sign that contract.

Eventually, the conversation circles back to work; to the penthouse and to the master suite that's been the subject of debate since our first site visit.