Chapter 174
Chapter 174:
He reached over and took the hand of a young socialite in a bright red dress standing nearby. “Care to dance?” he asked, pulling her toward the floor as the orchestra shifted into a faster, upbeat tempo.
The woman flushed with pleasure — Julian Thorne was a considerable catch, and she wanted every photographer in the room to notice. She stepped onto the floor and threw herself into a wide, theatrical spin, not watching where she moved.
Her stiletto heel came down hard on the trailing fabric of June’s starry blue mermaid gown.
June was in mid-stride. The sudden pull jerked her sharply backward. Her center of gravity disappeared, her body twisting to the right as she plummeted toward the marble floor. A muffled sound escaped her lips as her ankle rolled outward, the unnatural pop of the joint echoing in her own ears.
Crawford reacted instantly. He simply opened his left hand, letting the champagne glass fall, and lunged forward — his arm wrapping around June’s waist and catching her just inches before her head struck the stone.
The glass shattered against the marble.
The sharp crack cut through the music. The entire ballroom fell silent.
June’s face drained of color. Cold sweat broke out across her forehead. The pain in her ankle was a blinding fire shooting up her leg.
𝖱e𝘢𝘥 𝗳𝗋o𝗺 у𝗈𝘂𝘳 𝗽𝗁𝗼𝗻e 𝗼ո.с𝗼𝗺
Crawford ignored the crowd entirely. He dropped to one knee on the dance floor, his expensive suit pants soaking up the spilled champagne, and reached out — his hands hovering carefully over June’s rapidly swelling ankle.
That single image was a spark thrown into a powder keg.
Cole’s control evaporated.
He shoved past a cluster of investment bankers, his shoulder hitting one man hard enough to make him stumble. He didn’t slow down. He crossed the floor in heavy, predatory strides, the air around him dropping several degrees.
He reached them and seized Crawford’s wrist in a grip that turned his knuckles white.
“Take your hands off my wife,” Cole said. His voice was a low, guttural growl — cold and sharp as a blade.
Crawford rose slowly to his feet. He didn’t flinch or step back. He pulled his wrist free with a forceful jerk, meeting Cole’s height squarely.
“If you had actually done your job as a husband,” Crawford said, his tone carrying a dark, unhurried contempt, “she wouldn’t be hurt right now p>
Cole’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ground together. The muscles in his neck stood out in sharp relief.
He looked down at June. She was biting her lower lip, her face pale, her breathing shallow with pain.
Something struck his chest — a sudden, sharp pang of genuine panic that he didn’t understand and didn’t want to examine.
The woman in the red dress was shaking nearby, apologizing in a continuous, desperate stream. Julian stood a few feet away, rubbing his temples, fully aware of what a catastrophe this had become.
Cole bent down and reached toward June, preparing to lift her.
Her eyes snapped up to his. They were completely empty.