What Rex Knows

Sienna pov

Rex moved fast for someone who always looked relaxed.

He had me outside and around the side of the building in under two minutes — not the front entrance where the cameras were obvious, but a service exit onto a narrow side street. He knew exactly where to go. That told me something.

“You’ve done this before,” I said.

“Avoided my brother’s cameras? Yeah. It’s a skill.” He glanced back anyway. “Look. I’m going to tell you some things and I need you to not freak out until I’m done.”

“That’s a great opening.”

“Sienna.”

“Fine. Go.”

He blew out a breath. Looked at me like he was deciding how honest to be and then went with honest.

“Kade gets fixated on things. Projects, companies, problems — when something gets his attention he doesn’t let go. He runs it into the ground or he owns it. That’s just him. It’s why he’s good at what he does.”

“Okay.”

“But people are different. The last time he got fixated on a person—” He stopped. “It didn’t end well for anyone involved. He’s not — look, he’s not cruel, I’m not saying that. But when Kade wants something he doesn’t know how to want it quietly. He goes all in. He removes obstacles. He makes plans.”

I thought about the background check. The camera. The coffee order.

“Rex. What are you saying?”

“I’m saying he’s trying not to want you.” He said it directly, the way you say something you’ve thought about for a long time. “And that is way scarier than if he’d just decided to go for it. Because when Kade fights himself — when he’s actively trying to control something — he gets ruthless. He does things to manage the situation. Things that seem reasonable to him that are actually insane.”

The street was quiet. A cab went past. I watched it.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Rex shoved his hands in his pockets. “Because somebody should. Cole won’t — he just watches. He thinks people should sort their own messes out. And your mom sure as hell doesn’t know what she walked into.”

“What did she walk into?”

“A family where the oldest son controls everything, including the things he doesn’t mean to.” He looked at me straight. “I like you, Sienna. You’re sharp and you’re not impressed by any of this—” he gestured at the building behind us “—and that’s rare here. I just want you to know what you’re dealing with so it’s actually a choice. So if something happens, you can’t say nobody told you.”

I stood there and thought about the journal. Open on the desk. The notecard. The raise I hadn’t asked for. The coffee that appeared before I’d said a word.

“What do you want from this?” I asked. “Why does it matter to you?”

Rex almost smiled. “Kade always gets what Kade wants. Always. I’ve watched it my whole life. I just — I wanted someone to get a choice, for once.”

We went back inside separately. I took the stairs. By the time I got to the third-floor hallway of the estate it was past ten and the house was mostly quiet.

Kade was at the top of the main staircase.

Standing there like he’d been there a while. In a shirt now, no jacket, which somehow made him harder to deal with — more human and less like a wall. His eyes went to me and then past me, checking the hallway behind me, and I knew he’d seen Rex and me come in and he was calculating.

He said nothing.

I said, “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”

“I’m not thinking anything.”

“You’re always thinking something.”

He came down two steps. Stopped. “What did he tell you?”

“That’s between me and Rex.”

“Rex doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“He said you’d say that.” I moved to walk past him. He didn’t block me but he turned, following my movement, and I stopped. “What’s your version, then? Since Rex’s is apparently wrong.”

The silence stretched. He looked at me in that way he had — not like he was trying to figure me out, but like he already had and was deciding whether to tell me what he’d found.

“Go to bed, Sienna.”

“That’s your version? Go to bed?”

Something moved in his jaw. “Go to bed.” Lower this time. “Please.”

The please stopped me cold. It was so clearly not a word he used.

I went. Because I didn’t trust what I’d do if I stayed.

✶

I woke at 3am to noise.

Not loud noise. Just sound where there shouldn’t be any — a low voice, tense, controlled. I lay still and listened. Coming from across the hall.

Kade’s room. His door was open a few inches.

I got up. Told myself I was getting water. Moved into the hallway.

He was standing at the window with his back to the door, phone to his ear. Shirt off. I registered that and then firmly registered nothing else about it.

His voice was low and very controlled, the kind of controlled that means the thing underneath is not:

“—I don’t care. That’s not acceptable. Tell him to stay the hell away from her or I’ll make staying away his only viable option. Are we clear?”

A pause.

“I don’t need it to make sense. I need it done.”

He ended the call. Stood there a moment. Then turned around.

Saw me in the hallway.

We looked at each other across the dark.

Neither of us moved. He didn’t look surprised to see me. He looked like a man who’d just been caught at something he’d planned to keep quiet — and was now deciding in real time whether to keep lying or to stop. His eyes moved over my face and I watched him make the decision. “You heard that,” he said. It wasn’t a question.