Page 106 of The Silver Fox Brother

"Furniture sourcing?" Knox asks as we stand in what will be the living room.

"Meetings scheduled with vendors next week. The standard pieces will arrive within six weeks. Custom piecesfor the penthouse will take longest—twelve to fourteen weeks for fabrication."

"Budget concerns?"

"We're under budget in some areas. I'd like to reallocate those savings to higher-end art for the penthouse."

Knox doesn't hesitate. "Approved."

I turn to look at him. "Just like that?"

"You haven't given me reason to doubt your judgment."

I hold his gaze. "Thank you."

The moment stretches between us, something unspoken in the air, before Knox breaks it.

"About the apartment search."

My shoulders tense immediately.

"If you're looking for a place, I can put you in touch with my leasing team. They manage properties all over the city. Could get you squared away quickly."

I give him a half smile, about to deflect, when he continues.

"Though I'm sure Rowan could handle this for you. You haven't asked him?"

I freeze.

Rowan's name is like cold water dumped over my head. Knox doesn't know. Hasn't asked about my relationship status, wouldn't have any reason to assume anything changed from the family events where Rowan and I showed up together.

I don't want to tell him here. Don't want to explain the breakup in the middle of a construction site, don't want to see whatever expression crosses his face when he learns the truth.

"I'll keep that in mind," I say carefully. "Thanks."

I turn away from him and walk toward the master suite.

"The penthouse master bath. I want to discuss tile options with you before we finalize the order."

Knox follows me, and I can feel his gaze on my back. He lets me change the subject. But I know the question is still there. And eventually, I'm going to have to answer it.

Chapter Eleven

Knox

The next morning, I knock on Winter's office door.

"Come in."

She's at her desk, surrounded by fabric samples and vendor catalogs, but she's staring at her laptop screen with an expression I recognize. Stress. Frustration. The kind that comes from dealing with something that should be simple but isn't.

"Everything alright?" I ask, closing the door behind me.

Winter glances up. "Fine. Just apartment hunting is more complicated than expected."

I cross to her desk. "The realtor I mentioned—"

"I appreciate it, but I can handle this myself."