Chapter 281
Chapter 281:
A young busboy was pushing through the kitchen doors at that same moment, carrying a massive silver tray balanced precariously on his shoulder. At the center of the tray sat a large porcelain tureen filled to the brim with the restaurant’s signature dish: boiling lobster bisque. Thick white steam rolled from the surface, carrying the rich scent of seafood and butter into the corridor.
Cole was thirty feet away, moving down the hallway with his eyes fixed on the back of June’s neck. He was preparing to reach her, to grab her arm, to force her to talk to him.
Then the accident happened.
The rival CEO’s associate pretended to stumble and burst through a side door, colliding violently with the busboy. The impact was brutal. The busboy’s feet slipped on the polished hardwood and he cried out as the tray tilted violently forward.
The heavy tureen launched into the air. A full gallon of boiling liquid erupted from the bowl in a scalding arc aimed directly at the back of June’s head and shoulders.
рo𝗽𝘶𝘭𝘢𝗿 ѕtо𝗋і𝘦𝘴 oո
June heard the scream. She began to turn — but her brain couldn’t process the danger fast enough.
Cole’s pupils contracted to pinpoints. His heart stopped.
Pure biological instinct bypassed his conscious mind entirely. He didn’t think. He drove his legs into the floor and launched himself across the thirty feet with terrifying, explosive speed.
He reached June a fraction of a second before the liquid did.
He seized her shoulders, spun her around, and slammed her back against the wall, throwing his entire body over hers. His arms locked tight around her waist and he pressed her face into his chest, turning his broad back into a wall of flesh between her and the impact.
The tureen struck the wall and shattered. The boiling bisque hit Cole’s back with devastating force, instantly soaking through his wool coat and silk shirt and driving the scorching fabric against bare skin.
A wet, horrifying hiss rose in the corridor.
Cole’s body convulsed violently. A guttural, agonized roar tore from his throat — the sound of a man whose nerve endings had just been detonated. His knees buckled slightly, but his arms didn’t loosen. They tightened, crushing June against his chest with the grip of steel cables, holding the shield until he was certain the danger had passed.
June was frozen in absolute shock, her face pressed against him. She could hear his heart slamming in an erratic, terrified rhythm. The rich scent of the soup was immediately overtaken by something sickening — the sweet, acrid smell of scorched skin.
His breath came in hot, ragged waves against her hair. His entire frame was shaking, muscles locked in continuous spasm.
Slowly, June tilted her head back and looked up at his face.
His skin was the color of dirty ash. Cold sweat poured down his forehead. His dark eyes were wide and wild and locked onto her face with a desperate, consuming intensity.
“Are you…” Cole rasped, his voice a broken, wet whisper. “Are you hurt p>
June’s lungs stopped working.