Chapter 290
Chapter 290:
Cole’s hand froze. The memory of her holding a glass shard to her own throat flashed through his mind. He saw the same absolute revulsion in her eyes now, and knew with sickening certainty that his touch would be a violation she would physically fight off.
A guttural, animalistic sound of defeat and rage tore through his teeth. He wanted to smash something, but a white-hot flash of agony from his back paralyzed the impulse. Instead, he slammed his palm flat against the wall beside the door. The dull thud was a pathetic echo of the violence raging inside him.
Cole turned his back on her and walked out into the hallway, the toxic acid of humiliation burning a hole straight through his stomach.
The morning sun did nothing to warm the freezing anger in Cole’s blood.
He sat at a corner table in the hotel’s luxury dining room. He had not slept a single minute. The burns on his back throbbed with a sickening, wet heat, but the mental replay of June’s disgusted face was torturing him far worse. He stared down at his black coffee, his jaw locked so tight his teeth ached.
𝖲𝗮𝗏𝘦 𝘆𝗈𝗎𝗿 𝘧𝘢𝗏𝗼r𝘪t𝗲 𝗇ov𝖾𝗅𝘀 o𝗻.с𝗈𝗆
“Cole! Honey, I cannot believe you are here p>
A high, artificially sweet voice sliced through the quiet hum of the restaurant.
Cole’s stomach violently churned. He snapped his head up.
Alycia Beasley was walking toward his table. She wore a pristine, perfectly tailored white Chanel suit, her hair blown out into flawless waves. She looked like a magazine cover of the perfect corporate wife.
She slid into the chair directly across from him, completely ignoring the dark, murderous aura rolling off his body.
“I had your assistant track your location,” Alycia pouted, reaching across the table to lay her manicured hand over his. “I flew out in the middle of the night just to make sure you were okay p>
Cole stared at her hand. He felt absolutely nothing but a suffocating wave of irritation. He opened his mouth to tell her to leave.
Before he could speak, the heavy brass doors of the dining room swung open.
June walked in.
She was buttoning a sharp charcoal gray blazer that had arrived an hour prior via silent courier, along with a burner phone containing a single encrypted message from Crawford: FBI has a lead. Dress for war. Her hair was pulled back into a severe, tight knot, her face a mask of cold focus. She looked completely untouchable. Walking exactly half a step behind her was Crawford Love, dressed in a custom navy suit, his posture radiating absolute, lethal dominance.
Alycia’s eyes tracked Cole’s gaze. She saw June. A vicious, ugly light sparked in her pupils.
This was her territory. This was her chance to establish dominance.
Alycia stood up. She circled the table, grabbed Cole’s arm, and yanked him to his feet. The sudden movement pulled the burned skin on his back. He let out a sharp hiss, but Alycia did not notice. She dragged him across the dining room floor, heading straight for June.
“June! What a massive surprise,” Alycia called out, her voice loud enough to turn the heads of several wealthy patrons seated nearby.