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Chapter 412
Chapter 412:
The terrified rabbit froze. It sniffed the air, hopped twice, and pressed its tiny nose against Easton’s fingers.
Easton smiled. He gently scooped the rabbit up and cradled it against his chest.
June walked over and let out a long breath of relief. She looked down at the ruthless corporate lawyer kneeling on a New York City sidewalk, holding a fluffy white bunny, and couldn’t help it — a soft, genuine laugh escaped her lips.
Easton stood and carefully transferred the rabbit into her arms.
S𝗵a𝗿e 𝘺𝗼𝘶r 𝘵h𝘰𝘶𝘨𝗁t𝘴 𝘰𝘯
As she took the animal, a sudden gust of wind swept down the avenue, whipping a few loose strands of June’s dark hair across her face and catching them on her lip gloss.
Easton did not hesitate.
He reached out. His long fingers brushed gently against her cheek, hooking the stray strands and tucking them softly behind her ear. His fingertips lingered against her warm skin for a fraction of a second.
June’s breath caught. She looked up into his dark eyes. The noise of the street fell completely away. The air between them crackled with a heavy, undeniable electricity.
Across the street, parked deep in the shadows of an alleyway, sat a massive black bulletproof SUV with heavily tinted rear windows.
Crawford Love sat in the back seat, a crystal glass of expensive bourbon in hand. He had just left a late-night meeting and was heading home when his driver stopped at the red light.
His eyes were fixed on the street corner.
He watched Easton Hahn drop to one knee. He watched him gently transfer the rabbit. He watched him reach out and touch June’s face.
He saw the way June looked at him. She did not pull away. She did not look uncomfortable. She looked soft.
Crawford’s face remained completely blank, but his eyes turned to chips of freezing ice.
A dark, territorial surge of jealousy detonated in his chest. He gripped the whiskey glass so tightly his knuckles cracked.
Cole Compton was a pathetic, easily manipulated fool — already out of the game. Brogan Clements was a soft-hearted boy scout.
But Easton Hahn was a predator. Intelligent, patient, and lethal. Crawford knew a true threat when he saw one.
He lifted the glass and drained the rest of the bourbon in a single swallow. The ice cubes clinked sharply against the crystal.
He pressed the intercom button.
“Run a full background check on Easton Hahn,” Crawford said, his voice deadly quiet. “I want every detail — his schedule, his finances, his movements. Specifically as they relate to June Erickson p>
The library of the Compton Hamptons estate was completely silent.
It was three in the morning. June sat in a high-backed leather chair, working through a stack of clinical trial reports. Eleanor had given her absolute sanctuary in this house.
The heavy oak doors burst open with a violent crash.
June flinched, dropping her pen.