Page 116 of The Silver Fox Brother

We reach the restaurant a few minutes later. It's small, intimate, not the kind of place you bring clients for business dinners. Candlelit tables, soft music, quiet conversations.Romantic. My pulse quickens.This doesn't feel like a business dinner.

The hostess greets us with a warm smile.

"Mr. Sterling. Your table is ready."

She leads us to a corner table, private and away from the other diners. Knox pulls out my chair, and I sit. The hostess hands us menus and disappears. Knox looks at me across the table.

"Wine?"

I meet his eyes. "Yes."

"Definitely yes."

We order wine—a red that Knox selects without consulting the list. The sommelier nods approvingly and disappears. The first glass goes down faster than it should. Knox signals for a second bottle before we've even ordered food.

"Trying to get me drunk?" I ask.

"Trying to get you to relax."

"I'm relaxed."

Knox leans back in his chair.

"You're tense. You’ve been tense for the past two months.”

"So have you."

"Fair point."

The waiter appears with menus. We order without really looking—something that sounds good, food that neither of us will remember later. The waiter leaves, and we're alone again in our corner of the restaurant. The conversation starts safe. Project timelines. Material deliveries. The usual topics we've covered in dozens of meetings. But the wine loosens something between us. Knox sets down his glass and looks at me directly.

"Can I ask you something?"

"That depends on what you're asking."

"Rowan. What happened?"

My shoulders tense immediately.

"You don't have to answer," Knox adds quickly.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because I've seen how you react when his name comes up. Because you're living in a corporate apartment instead of your own place. Because something happened that made you walk away from two years."

I take another drink of wine.

"Why does it matter?"

"It doesn't. Not professionally. But I'm curious."

The wine has lowered my defenses enough that I answer.

"He cheated. For over a year. I found out when his mistress called his phone at twelve-thirty at night."

Knox's expression hardens.

"He's an idiot."