Page 135 of The Silver Fox Brother

"That's impressive. How long have you been doing that?"

"About four years. I started it right out of grad school."

"Bold move. Most people play it safe with the big firms first."

"I didn't want to wait for someone else to give me permission to do what I already knew I could do."

Jake grins. "I like that. Confidence is attractive."

The conversation continues. He tells me about growing up in Chicago, about his move to New York two years ago, about the private equity firm where he works. I nod along, asking questions when appropriate, but I'm only half engaged.

He's nice. Perfectly nice.

And I feel absolutely nothing.

"Have you traveled much for work?" Jake asks.

"I imagine high-end clients have properties all over."

"Some. Mostly stay local to New York, but I've done projects in the Hamptons, Connecticut, a few in Miami."

"Miami's great. I was just there last month for—"

He stops mid-sentence, his attention caught by something behind me. I'm about to turn around when I hear a familiar voice near the entrance.

Knox.

My entire body goes rigid. I turn slowly and see him walking through the door with two other people—a woman in a sleek black dress and a man in a tailored navy suit. The woman is laughing at something Knox said, her hand resting briefly on his forearm in a way that feels too comfortable, too familiar.

My stomach drops. Out of all the restaurants in Manhattan—hundreds, thousands of options—Knox Sterling just walked into this one.

The hostess greets them and starts leading them toward a table on the opposite side of the room. Knox is scanning the space as they walk, probably checking the layout, assessing the crowd the way he always does.

And then his eyes land on me. He stops walking. Just freezes mid-step. Our eyes lock across the restaurant, and the air shifts. Everything else—the low music, the murmur of conversations, Jake sitting across from me—it all fades into white noise. There's only Knox, staring at me with an intensity that makes my pulse spike.

The man in the navy suit says something to Knox, gesturing toward their table. Knox breaks eye contact and continues walking, but I can feel the tension radiating from him even from across the room.

They sit down at a table with a clear sightline to where I'm sitting.

"Winter?"

Jake's voice pulls me back. I turn to face him, my heart pounding.

"Sorry, what?"

He's looking at me with slight concern.

"You okay? You just got really quiet."

"I'm fine. Just thought I saw someone I knew."

Jake glances over his shoulder toward where Knox is sitting, then back at me.

"Anyone important?"

"Just a client."

The lie comes easily, but my hands are shaking slightly under the table.