Page 117 of The Silver Fox Brother

I laugh, and it comes out bitter.

"That's one word for it."

"How did you find out? I mean, the details. If you want to share."

I should deflect. Should change the subject back to work, back to safe territory. Instead, I tell him.

About Madeleine's phone call at the early morning hours. About waking Rowan up and watching his face change when he realized I knew. About the fight that followed—Rowan blaming me for working too much, calling Madeleine easier than me, all the cruelty that came out when he was cornered.

About packing my bags at one in the morning while he watched. About Kate's apartment and breaking down in her living room at two-thirty. About accepting Knox's project the next night, still raw and devastated but knowing I needed to choose myself for once.

Knox listens without interrupting, his jaw tight, his eyes never leaving mine.

"That's why you hesitated," he says when I finish.

"About the project."

"Partially. The complications were significant."

"And now?"

I look around the restaurant—intimate lighting, quiet conversations, the two of us sitting across from each other like this is something more than business.

"Now I'm here. Working on the biggest project of my career. Living in an apartment you arranged. Having dinner with my ex-boyfriend's brother." I laugh.

"It's absurd when you say it out loud."

"It's business," Knox says.

"Is it?"

I look at him directly, and something passes between us that has nothing to do with design or timelines or professional boundaries.

Knox holds my gaze. "What else would it be?"

I don't answer.

"My turn," Knox says.

"For what?"

"Confession. You shared. I should too."

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

He tells me about failed relationships. About women who wanted the Sterling name and the lifestyle that came with it, but not him. About dates that felt like business transactions, carefully choreographed evenings where both parties were performing rather than connecting.

About a three-month relationship with someone named Alexandra Crane that ended because he felt nothing. About choosing work over connection because work was predictable, controllable, safe in a way relationships never were.

"That's lonely," I say quietly.

"So is being with someone who's cheating."

"Fair point."

Knox refills both our glasses.