Chapter 15 #2
But I know he is.
I can feel it in the way my skin is still buzzing, in the way my heart hasn't stopped racing since the moment he walked through that door.
I get into the first taxi that stops and give the driver my address.
As we pull away from the curb, I finally allow myself one glance back. Through the restaurant window, I can just barely make out Knox's silhouette still seated at his table.
Still watching.
***
The next morning, the car picks me up at 6am sharp. I watch the city blur past the window as we drive through Manhattan and out toward Teterboro. The sun is already fully risen, bright and clear in the morning sky. Traffic is light this early, and we make good time.
Forty minutes later, we pull onto the tarmac at the private airport. The driver opens my door and a staff member in a crisp uniform appears immediately, taking my carry on bag from the trunk.
"Right this way, Ms. Hayes."
He escorts me across the tarmac toward a sleek white jet with the Sterling Luxury logo discreetly positioned near the tail. The stairs are already down, waiting. I climb up and step inside. The flight attendant greets me at the entrance with a warm smile.
"Good morning, Ms. Hayes. Welcome aboard."
"Good morning."
"I'm Claire, and this is Captain Richardson and First Officer Martinez." She gestures toward the cockpit where both pilots nod in acknowledgment.
"Nice to meet you."
I've flown private before with Rowan's family, but this plane is different. More pristine. More spacious. The cabin is outfitted with cream leather seats, polished wood accents, and enough room that it doesn't feel cramped despite the luxury.
As I move further into the cabin, I see Knox. He's standing near the rear of the plane, phone to his ear, his back partially turned as he finishes a call. His voice is low, professional, discussing something about contract terms and closing dates.
Claire appears beside me.
"Can I get you coffee, tea, or another beverage? We'll also be serving breakfast shortly—croissants, scrambled eggs, fresh fruit."
"Coffee would be great. And yes, I'll take whatever you're serving. Thank you."
"Of course. Make yourself comfortable."
I move toward the seating area and choose a seat near the window. As I'm settling in, I hear Knox wrapping up his call.
"That's fine. Send me the revised proposal by end of day." He pauses.
"Yes. We'll discuss it when I'm back in New York."
He ends the call and I feel him approaching. I take a deep breath as Knox sits down in the seat directly across from me. There's a folded Wall Street Journal on the armrest beside him, clearly where he was sitting before I arrived. He looks at me and our eyes meet.
"Winter," he says, his tone neutral.
"Good morning."
He nods once, his expression unreadable. There's something in his gaze that looks like disdain, though it's mixed with his usual stoic control.
"Glad you could make it," he says, and there's a snide edge to the words.
I hold his stare. "I don't think I had a choice."
Knox's jaw tightens slightly, but he doesn't respond.
Claire reappears before the silence can stretch too long.
"Mr. Sterling, can I get you anything else? More coffee?"
"Another espresso," he says without looking away from me.
"Right away."
She disappears toward the galley and Knox opens his mouth like he's about to say something.
But then the pilot's voice comes through the overhead speaker.
"Good morning, this is Captain Richardson. We'll be taking off momentarily. Flight time to Naples is approximately two hours. We're looking at clear skies, minimal turbulence, smooth sailing all the way. Sit back, relax, and we'll have you on the ground in Florida before you know it."
Claire returns with Knox's espresso and my coffee and orange juice, setting them on the small tables beside our seats.
"We'll be wheels up in just a few minutes," she says.
"Let me know if you need anything once we're in the air."
"Thank you," I say.
She moves toward her jump seat near the front of the cabin, preparing for takeoff.
The tense, awkward feeling settles over me like a weight. I pick up my coffee and take a sip, anything to have something to do with my hands. Knox is watching me, his gaze intense and unwavering.
"Did you enjoy your evening?" he asks.
The question catches me off guard. His tone is strange—curious but also laced with something that sounds almost like disgust.
I set down my coffee carefully. "Yes. I did enjoy my evening."
I pause, then add, "Did you enjoy yours?"
Knox doesn't answer. He just stares at me with that same intense glare, his expression unreadable. Claire appears again, reaching for his empty espresso cup.
"All set, Mr. Sterling?"
"Yes."
She takes the cup and disappears again.The moment breaks. I pull my laptop out of my bag and open it, pretending to focus on work. Anything to create a distraction from the charged silence between us. Knox picks up the Wall Street Journal and unfolds it, retreating behind the pages.
The plane begins to move, taxiing down the runway. I stare at my laptop screen without really seeing it, my pulse still racing from the way Knox looked at me.
After takeoff, Knox retreats to the other side of the cabin. He takes calls—at least three over the course of the flight—keeping his voice low but audible enough that I catch fragments about investor meetings and construction timelines.
I make conversation with Claire when she brings breakfast. We talk about Naples, about the weather, about her favorite restaurants in the area. It's pleasant. Easy. A welcome distraction.
The rest of the time, I dive into emails on my laptop. Client updates, vendor questions, Maya checking in about the rescheduled meetings. I respond to everything methodically, grateful for the work to focus on.
The two hours pass quickly. Before I know it, Captain Richardson's voice comes through the speaker announcing our descent into Naples. The plane touches down smoothly and taxis toward the private terminal. Within minutes, we're pulling up on the tarmac.
A sleek black Maybach is waiting. The chauffeur steps out immediately, opening the rear door and moving to collect our bags as Knox and I descend the stairs.
"Good morning, Mr. Sterling," the driver says.
"Welcome to Naples."
Knox nods. "Take us to the Four Seasons."
"Yes, sir."
The driver loads our bags into the trunk while Knox and I slide into the backseat. The interior is pristine—cream leather, polished wood trim, enough space that we're not sitting close.
The driver pulls away from the airport and heads down the main boulevard. Palm trees line the street, the Florida sun bright and warm even through the tinted windows. Neither of us speaks during the drive.
Fifteen minutes later, we pull up in front of the Four Seasons Naples. The resort is massive, modern architecture blending seamlessly with tropical landscaping. Valets appear immediately to handle the car and luggage.
Knox and I walk into the lobby—soaring ceilings, marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking manicured gardens and the water beyond.
We approach the front desk where a polished receptionist greets us with a professional smile.
"Good morning. Checking in?"
"Yes. Reservations under Sterling."
She types into her computer.
"Of course, Mr. Sterling. I have you in our executive suites. Two adjoining suites as requested."
I turn to look at her sharply. "Why are the suites adjoining?"
The receptionist glances at her screen, then back at me.
"Oh, I apologize. The booking request didn't designate whether the suites should be individual or adjoining. It appears there was a miscommunication." She types again, her expression apologetic.
"Unfortunately, we're fully sold out tonight due to a private event. I can try to find alternative accommodations if—"
"It's fine," Knox interrupts, his tone clipped.
"I'm sure we'll manage not to bother each other."
He turns back to the receptionist and I shrink slightly beside him, my jaw tight. The bellman appears and collects our bags while the receptionist hands Knox two key cards. Knox passes one to me without looking at me.
We walk toward the elevator in silence. The bellman follows with our luggage on a cart. The elevator ride up is quiet at first, the only sound the soft hum of the machinery.
Then Knox speaks.
"In about an hour, we'll head out to the development property. I have to take a call and get it squared away, then we can head over there." He glances at me briefly.
"It won't take much of your time."
His tone is back to stoic, professional, detached.
I nod. "Fine."
The elevator doors open onto a long, lavish corridor. Wide hallways, thick carpet, contemporary art on the walls. We walk down the hall and I see that Knox's suite is on one side. Mine is further down on the adjacent end.
I roll my suitcase toward my door and briefly turn back. Knox has already disappeared inside his suite, the door closing behind him with a soft click.
I swipe my key card and step inside, closing the door behind me and I take a deep breath.
The suite is stunning. The entryway opens into a spacious living room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a private terrace. Beyond the terrace, the water stretches out endlessly, glittering in the afternoon sun.
The living room is elegantly furnished—a plush cream sofa, two armchairs, a glass coffee table. A large flat-screen TV is mounted on the wall above a sleek console. Near the windows, there's a dining table with four chairs.
To the left is a small kitchen, fully equipped with a stainless steel refrigerator, a sink, and polished marble countertops. Everything pristine and untouched.
I walk toward the bedroom.
The master suite is just as impressive. A king-size bed dominates the space, dressed in crisp white linens. More floor-to-ceiling windows flood the room with natural light, making it feel airy and open.