Chapter 15 #3
The bathroom is connected—marble floors, a massive glass-enclosed shower with dual heads, and a large soaking tub positioned beneath a window overlooking the gardens.
I set my bag on the bed and unpack a few essentials. My laptop. A change of clothes for later. Toiletries.
I use the bathroom, splash water on my face, freshen up.
When I return to the living room, I pull out my laptop and set it on the dining table. I connect to the Wi-Fi and open my email.
That's when I hear it; a faint voice—Knox's voice.
I freeze.
My eyes drift toward the corner of the room near the kitchen. There's a door there—plain, unassuming.
The adjoining door.
I stand slowly and move toward it, my footsteps quiet on the carpet. I press my ear against the door. Knox's voice is clearer now. He's on the phone, his tone professional but firm. Something about revised contracts and timeline adjustments.
He's close. Just on the other side of this door. I look down at the handle. My hand reaches out slowly, fingertips brushing the cool metal. Then I pull back. I reach down and check the lock. It's engaged.
"Best if we keep it that way," I murmur to myself.
I take a step back, exhale slowly, and return to the dining table. I open my laptop and force myself to focus on the screen in front of me. But Knox's voice is still faintly audible through the door, a constant reminder that he's right there. Just on the other side.
An hour later, I'm down in the main lobby.
I step into the grand foyer and search for Knox.
The space is massive—marble floors, high ceilings, contemporary art installations positioned throughout.
I spot him standing by the window near the far wall, phone to his ear again.
He turns and his eyes catch mine across the way.
I start walking toward him. He begins walking toward me too, and for a moment we're moving toward each other across the lobby. I'm almost close enough to stand beside him when he suddenly pivots and heads toward the revolving door.
I follow.
The Maybach is waiting out front. The driver opens my side of the car and I climb in. Knox waves him off before he can circle around.
"It's alright," Knox says, opening his own door and sliding into the backseat beside me.
He gives the driver an address and we pull away from the hotel. Knox is still on the phone, his voice low and controlled as he discusses timeline adjustments with whoever is on the other end.
I look out the window, watching the palm trees and waterfront properties blur past.
But I can smell him. Clean aftershave. Masculine. The same scent that's been burned into my memory since the construction site.
I glance over.
He's looking straight ahead, his expression unreadable, deep in thought as he listens to whatever is being said on the phone. Then suddenly his eyes shift and lock onto mine—just for a few seconds. I turn back to the window quickly.
Moments later, Knox finishes his call and hangs up. He shifts in his seat, the leather creaking slightly.
I take a deep breath. "So where are we going exactly?"
"A development. One of mine. In Old Naples." He pauses.
"There's an issue with the contractor that I need to address, but I also wanted you to see the design concept. As I mentioned."
"Okay. Let's get to it."
Silence settles between us.
Then Knox speaks again. "Everything alright? You seem quiet."
I'm still looking out the window, not at him, when I respond.
"I'm fine. Just have a lot of work to do."
Knox doesn't say anything. The rest of the drive passes in silence.
Twenty minutes later, we arrive at the development site. The property is stunning—a luxury residential building positioned along the waterfront, modern architecture with clean lines and floor-to-ceiling glass. The landscaping is already in place, the exterior mostly complete.
We get out of the car and head toward the entrance.
Inside, the development is nearly finished.
Marble floors installed, lighting fixtures in place, custom millwork already mounted on the walls.
Workers are scattered throughout, making final adjustments.
I'm wondering why Knox brought me here when so much is already done.
A man in a hard hat approaches. "Mr. Sterling. Good to see you."
"James. This is Winter Hayes, the designer on my Tribeca project. Winter, this is James Caldwell, the general contractor here."
We shake hands and exchange pleasantries.
Knox turns to me. "Why don't you take a look at one of the units on the other end? I need to speak with James about the penthouse issue."
"Sure."
I walk through the building, exploring the completed units.
Everything is well done—cohesive design, high-end finishes, thoughtful layout.
I can see the vision clearly. Modern luxury with coastal influences, similar to what I'm doing with the Tribeca project but adapted for the Florida market.
It does make sense that Knox wanted me to see this.
Forty minutes pass as I move through the space, taking notes on my phone, examining details. Then my phone rings in my hand. I glance down at the screen.
Incoming call: Rowan Sterling
My stomach drops. I stare at it, watching it ring. Once. Twice.
"Is that your phone ringing?"
Knox's voice behind me. I spin around quickly, pressing the phone against my side to hide the screen.
Did he see who was calling? I can't tell from his expression.
Knox steps closer, his eyes on mine.
"Well? What did you think of the design?"
I take a breath and refocus.
"It's beautiful. I can definitely see the vision and the theme."
Knox tilts his head slightly. "So you approve?"
I cock an eyebrow. "I know you didn't fly me all the way down to Naples to get my approval on a multimillion-dollar luxury development that's already near completion."
Knox pauses, and something shifts in his expression.
"No. Not really. But I did want your opinion."
The air between us feels charged.
"We have another stop," Knox says, his voice lower now.
I nod. "Alright. Let's go."
The afternoon passes as we visit another property—a smaller development in a different part of Naples.
Knox walks me through the concept, points out specific design choices, asks my thoughts on material selections.
It's professional. Focused. But there's an undercurrent of tension that never quite dissipates.
By the time we finish, the sun is starting to lower in the sky.
We get back in the car and Knox gives the driver directions back to the Four Seasons.
"I have an event tonight," Knox says as we drive.
"A banquet dinner. Client-sponsored. I want you to attend with me."
I glance at him. "Okay. What's the dress code?"
Knox looks at me, and there's something flirtatious in his expression.
"You have a little black dress and nice shoes?"
"Yes."
"Then you're fine."
I hold his gaze for a beat longer than necessary before looking away. We arrive back at the resort and head inside. The lobby is busier now, guests moving through the space, staff attending to check-ins and inquiries. We make our way to the elevator and step inside. As we ride up, Knox speaks.
"You should order room service. Get whatever you want." He pauses.
"We can meet around seven."
There's a beat of silence.
"Where should we meet?" I ask.
"Should I just knock on your door?"
Knox looks at me. "I guess we can meet in the lobby. If that's more comfortable for you."
We stare at each other in the elevator, the air between us thick with unspoken tension.
The elevator dings and the doors slide open, breaking the moment.
I step out of the trance. "Okay. I'll be ready."
I step out of the elevator and walk down the hall, Knox following a few paces behind. We arrive at our respective suite doors at the same time. I try to resist, but I can't help glancing back over my shoulder before I swipe my key card.
Knox is looking at me.
I turn the handle and walk inside, closing the door behind me.
I take a deep breath and lean against the door for a moment.
Then I walk to the bedroom, straight to my suitcase and I pull out the black dress I packed, along with the heels and the small clutch I brought. I never leave home without it.
I set everything on the bed and assess the outfit. Whatever this evening is, I need to be ready.