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Chapter 594
Chapter 594:
“Please, June.” Julian’s voice cracked at the edges. “You are the only person either of them will hear. Issue a public statement — a clear, public declaration that you have no affiliation with either of them and that you demand they stop. It’s the only way to de-escalate this before the damage becomes irreversible p>
June took three slow, deliberate breaths. She pushed the bile back down.
When she turned to face him, her eyes were no longer recognizable as anything warm. They were twin pools of cold, absolute black.
“I am not their babysitter,” she said, her voice a quiet and lethal hiss. “And I am not their trophy p>
She reached up, grabbed the lapels of her lab coat, stripped it off in one sharp motion, and threw it onto the nearest chair. She picked up her keys from the desk.
𝖸our 𝗱a𝘪𝗹𝗒 𝗱о𝘴𝘦 o𝘧 𝗇𝗈v𝘦𝗹𝗌 𝘰ո
Her heels struck the floor like a metronome as she crossed to the door.
Julian pushed himself off the stool in a panic, clutching his side. “June — wait. A press release is safer. You don’t have to go anywhere p>
She pushed the glass door open without turning around.
“A press release is a request,” she said, throwing the words over her shoulder as she walked out. “I’m going to deliver an order p>
The VIP elevator doors slid open on the top floor of the Love Group headquarters.
June stepped out in a sharp black tailored suit. The expression on her face was beyond anger — it was something colder and more absolute, radiating outward like a drop in atmospheric pressure. The executive assistants at their desks looked up and went still. The two security guards flanking the CEO’s office door took one look at her eyes and quietly pressed themselves against the wall.
June didn’t slow down.
She reached the heavy bulletproof glass door of the president’s office and didn’t knock. She drove it open with one hard thrust of her arm.
The door struck its stopper with a deafening bang.
Crawford was behind his mahogany desk, holding an ice pack to the deep purple bruise along his jaw, a spread of financial documents covering the surface in front of him. His head snapped up.
When he saw June in the doorway, every cold, calculating thing in his expression dissolved instantly. What replaced it was a surge of something almost euphoric — the look of a man who believes the thing he wants most has just walked through his door of its own accord.
He dropped the ice pack. He stood and came around the desk, eyes fixed on her face with hungry, open desperation.
“June,” he said, his voice thick and unguarded. He extended his hand toward her arm.
June took a large, deliberate step backward.
She looked at his outstretched hand as though it were something contaminated.
“Don’t touch me,” she said. Her voice was not loud. It didn’t need to be. The disgust in it was a precision instrument, and it cut the air between them cleanly.
Crawford’s hand stopped in midair. The warmth on his face died by degrees. His instincts, honed over decades of reading rooms and people, finally registered the nature of what was standing in front of him.
June’s eyes moved to the bruise on his jaw.