Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Knox
I haven't heard from Winter since we landed at Teterboro forty-eight hours ago. No calls. No texts. Nothing. I tell myself I'm giving her space. That she needs time to process whatever Naples was. That I shouldn't push.
We don't have a team call scheduled this week. The Tribeca project is in good shape and Winter's studio is handling the procurement independently. I don't expect to see her at the office. But the silence still bothers me more than I want to admit.
I pull up my emails and try to focus on the backlog that accumulated while I was gone. Project updates from Fletcher. Investor inquiries about the Dallas development. Contract revisions for the Chicago waterfront property.
None of it holds my attention. My office phone rings and I glance at the caller ID. Marcus.
I pick up. "Yeah."
"Your brother is here." Marcus's voice is tight, careful.
"He's upset."
I lean back in my chair.
"What's he here for?"
"I don't know. He won't say. Just asked to see you immediately."
I pause for a beat, then say, "Send him in."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
I hear Marcus hesitate on the other end, then say,
"Sorry, excuse me, Mr. Sterling—"
The line goes dead.I set down the phone and stand, moving around to the front of my desk—bracing myself for whatever is coming.
The door to my office slams open.
Rowan storms in, his face red, his jaw tight with barely controlled rage.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he shouts.
I don't have time to respond before his fist connects with my face. The punch catches me on the jaw, snapping my head to the side. Pain explodes across my face and I taste blood.
I recover quickly, my hand going to my jaw as I straighten up. I don't hit back immediately. I just stare at him. Rowan is breathing hard, his fists still clenched at his sides.
"Feel better?" I ask, my voice calm despite the throbbing in my face.
"You hired Winter?" Rowan demands.
"What kind of sick game are you playing?"
My stomach drops.
He knows.
But then I process his words.
Hired Winter. Not sleeping with Winter. Not fucking Winter behind his back.
Just..hired.
"It's business," I say evenly. "She's the best designer for the project."
"Bullshit!" Rowan steps closer, his finger jabbing toward my chest.
"You're trying to get back at me. Hiring my girlfriend to work on your project."
"She's not your girlfriend—"
“—She is!" Rowan's voice rises.
"We're together. We've been together for two years."
I cross my arms, keeping my expression neutral.
"You were together. Past tense. Your relationship with her is over."
Rowan shakes his head. "No it's not. She still loves me. We just had a disagreement, but we're getting back together."
For a moment, I think he's about to reveal that he knows about Naples. That Winter told him. That this whole confrontation is about me crossing a line I shouldn't have crossed.
But he doesn't.
"Did she tell you that?" I ask carefully.
Rowan's jaw tightens.
"I was at her place last night. We talked. She needs time but she's coming back to me."
The words hit me harder than his fist did.
Last night? He was at her place last night?
I don't know whether to believe him. But the certainty in his voice makes my chest tighten.
"If she's coming back to you," I say slowly, "then why does it matter who I hire for my projects?"
Rowan's hands clench into fists again.
"Because you're doing this to hurt me. You hired her because you knew it would piss me off."
"I hired her because she's talented."
"You hired her because she's mine!"
"She's not yours," I say, my voice hardening.
"She's not a possession, Rowan. She's a person who makes her own decisions."
Rowan laughs bitterly. "Right. Just like the company was a decision you made. Just like everything you do is about proving you're better than me."
"I'm not trying to prove anything."
"You left Sterling Commercial because you couldn't handle working under Conrad," Rowan says.
"You had to go off and build your own empire. Show everyone that you could do it better than Dad ever could."
"I left because I wanted to build something of my own. That had nothing to do with you."
"Everything you do has to do with me!" Rowan shouts.
"You've spent our entire lives competing with me. And now you're using Winter to do it."
I step closer, my own anger rising now.
"I'm not using anyone. This is a business arrangement. Nothing more."
I say the words, but the lie is palpable. It is something more—much more. Rowan stares at me for a long moment, his chest heaving with anger.
Then he says quietly, "Stay away from her."
"That's not your decision to make."
"I'm tired of you taking things from me," Rowan says, his voice low and dangerous.
"First the company, then Dad's respect, now the woman I love. I'm done letting you win."
"This isn't a competition."
"It's always been a competition," Rowan says.
"And I'm not losing her to you."
He turns and walks toward the door. I should let him leave. Should let this end here.
But I don't.
"She left you," I say to his back.
"She walked out because you cheated on her. You took her for granted. That's not my fault."
Rowan stops, his hand on the door handle. He doesn't turn around when he speaks.
"She'll forgive me. She always does."
Then he opens the door and walks out, slamming it behind him. I stand there alone in my office, my jaw throbbing, my mind racing.
He doesn't know. Rowan doesn't know about Naples. Doesn't know I've touched her. Doesn't know I've had her in ways he never will again. But he also said he was at her place last night.
Is that true? Did she see him? Did they talk?
I pull out my phone and pull up Winter's contact. My thumb hovers over the call button. Then before I can dial, my office phone rings. I set down my cell and answer.
“This is Knox.”
"Knox, we have a situation in Boston."
It's Fletcher, and his voice is tight with urgency.
"There's been a fire."
I go still. "What?"
"Construction site. HVAC system malfunction in one of the upper floors. It spread fast. Fire department got it under control but there's significant damage."
"Was anyone hurt?"
Fletcher pauses.
"One of the contractors. Third-degree burns. He's at Mass General right now."
My blood runs cold. "How bad?"
"Bad enough that his family is threatening to sue. OSHA is already on site. We need you here. Now."
I close my eyes and press my fingers to the bridge of my nose.
"I'll be there in four hours."
"Thank you. I'll meet you at the site."
I hang up and stand there for a moment, my phone still in my hand. I look down at Winter's name on the screen.
I need to ask her about Rowan. Get to the bottom of whatever the hell is happening. But I don't have time. I need to get to Boston. I grab my jacket and head for the door.
***
By 4pm, I'm standing in what's left of the fourteenth floor of the Boston development. The smell of smoke is overwhelming. Burn marks streak across the walls and ceiling. The HVAC unit that malfunctioned is a charred, twisted mess of metal.
Fletcher is beside me, hard hat on, clipboard in hand.
"Fire marshal says it was a faulty installation. The contractor who got hurt was doing routine maintenance when it ignited."
"Where is he now?"
"Mass General. ICU. Burns on his arms and chest. They're saying he'll survive but it's going to be a long recovery."
I run a hand over my face.
"Have we contacted his family?"
"Yes. They're at the hospital. Legal is handling communication but they want to speak with you directly."
Of course they do.
"What about OSHA?"
Fletcher grimaces.
"They're downstairs doing their inspection. Preliminary findings suggest we might not have followed proper safety protocols during the HVAC installation."
"Might not have or didn't?"
"Didn't."
I close my eyes. This is bad. I have pride myself on having virtually no incidents on my site for nearly all of the years that we’ve been operational. This will be very bad if we don't handle it correctly.
"Get me a full report on what happened," I say.
"I want to know every step of that installation. Who signed off on it? Who was supervising. Everything."
"Already on it."
"And I need to get over to the Lawyer’s office—now."
Fletcher nods. "I'll drive you."
The lawyer's office is twenty minutes away. I spend the entire drive on the phone with our legal team in NYC, our insurance company, and the project manager who oversaw the HVAC installation.
By the time we arrive, I have a clearer picture of what went wrong. The contractor we hired cut corners. Didn't follow the code. And one of my employees is paying the price. We spend hours looking at on site cameras and the incident reports.
By the time we leave, it's almost midnight. Fletcher drives me to my hotel.
"You should get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be long."
"I know."
I check into the hotel and go straight to my room. I pull out my phone and see a missed call from Marcus. Two emails from investors asking about the Boston situation.
Nothing from Winter.
I sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the blank screen. I should call her. But I'm exhausted. And honestly, right now, dealing with what happened in Boston is a welcome distraction from thinking about her. I set the phone on the nightstand and lie back on the bed.
Three days later and I still haven’t left Boston. OSHA completes their investigation and issues citations. We're facing fines and other blowback, if we can't prove the contractor acted independently. I spend mundane hours in meetings with lawyers, insurance adjusters, and safety inspectors.
Fletcher offers to take over so I can go back to New York, but I tell him I've got it handled. The truth is, being here is easier than being there.
Easier than confronting whatever is or isn't happening with Winter. Easier than dealing with Rowan. Easier than admitting that I might have already lost something I never really had to begin with.
My phone is on the table next to me, screen dark. I haven't called Winter. Haven't texted. She hasn't reached out either. Maybe Rowan was telling the truth? Maybe she did see him? Maybe she is going back to him? Or maybe she's just as confused as I am about what Naples meant.
I don't know. And right now, I'm too consumed with keeping my company from imploding to figure it out.