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Chapter 379
Chapter 379:
Easton walked into the living room wearing the white bathrobe, the belt tied loosely around his waist, exposing a deep V of his chest. His dark hair was damp and fell messily over his forehead.
June’s breath caught. She quickly averted her eyes, her cheeks burning.
“The tea is ready,” June said, her voice slightly higher than usual. “Your clothes will need about thirty minutes p>
Easton thanked her and settled onto the long grey fabric sofa.
June sat in the armchair across from him, separated by the glass coffee table. The silence in the room was thick, vibrating with an unspoken tension that neither of them chose to name.
To break it, Easton reached forward to pick up an architectural digest magazine resting on the edge of the coffee table.
As he leaned forward, his sharp eyes swept naturally across the sofa cushions.
His hand froze in mid-air for exactly half a second.
Tucked deep into the crevice between the cushions, completely out of place in the pristine room, was a tiny piece of black fabric — a pair of sheer, black lace underwear. It must have fallen from one of the storage bins when the staff hastily moved her belongings from the master suite.
The air in the living room evaporated.
𝖱𝘰𝗆𝗮𝗇𝖼е а𝘯𝘥 𝘱asѕi𝗈𝘯 𝘰ո
June followed his gaze. When she saw the black lace resting inches from his thigh, her heart stopped. The blood rushed to her face so violently she felt dizzy. A wave of paralyzing shame crashed over her.
She opened her mouth, but her vocal cords were completely paralyzed.
Easton’s reaction was a masterclass in absolute control.
He did not smirk. He did not stare. He smoothly completed the motion, picking up the magazine as though he had seen nothing but grey fabric.
He opened it, flipped to a random page, and leaned back.
“The use of negative space in this Tokyo exhibit is fascinating,” Easton said, his voice perfectly calm and conversational.
He ignored the moment entirely, deliberately and flawlessly building an immediate, protective wall to spare her from the humiliation.
June let out a slow, silent exhale.
The silence that followed was no longer merely awkward. It burned with something far more dangerous — and neither of them reached to put it out.
Beep-beep-beep.
The loud, cheerful chime of the dryer finishing its cycle shattered the heavy, suffocating tension in the living room.
June jumped slightly in her chair, feeling as though she had just been rescued from a burning building.
“I’ll get your clothes,” June said quickly, practically hobbling toward the laundry room on her medical boot.
When she returned, Easton had retreated to the guest bathroom to change. He emerged a few minutes later, back in his bespoke suit. The fabric was warm and smelled faintly of her laundry detergent. The raw intimacy of the bathrobe was gone, and the professional boundary between them was, at least partially, restored.
Easton walked to the front door. He turned to look at her, his dark eyes soft.
“Thank you for the tea, June,” Easton said, his voice low. “And for the dryer. Today was… highly productive p>