Chapter 178
Chapter 178:
He held her elbow with steady support as she maneuvered toward the car, then placed one large hand firmly over the roof frame as she lowered herself into the low leather seat, ensuring she didn’t knock her head. June settled in. Crawford closed the door, collapsed the umbrella, and returned to the driver’s seat. The Aston Martin let out a low growl and eased into the morning traffic.
One block away, Julian Thorne sat under the heated awning of an upscale corner café, nursing a punishing hangover and gripping a cup of black coffee as though it were the only thing tethering him to the earth.
He glanced idly at the street. His eyes snagged on a silver Aston Martin stopped at the red light.
Julian sat up. He knew that car. Crawford had a near-pathological attachment to his vehicles — no one drove them, and he had never, in all the years Julian had known him, put a woman in the passenger seat.
Julian leaned forward and squinted through the rain. The sharp, unmistakable profile of the woman beside Crawford came into focus. She was looking down at a tablet.
It was June.
Julian choked. He spat a mouthful of scalding black coffee across the café table, coughing violently, and didn’t even reach for a napkin.
He stared as Crawford — without touching her — reached across the center console and quietly adjusted the AC vent so the warm air redirected onto her shivering shoulders.
It was a small, unhurried, deeply domestic gesture. The kind a man only makes for a woman he genuinely cares about.
Julian’s hands were unsteady as he pulled out his phone and snapped three clear photos of the car and its occupants before the light turned green and the Aston Martin accelerated away.
𝗝оіn о𝗎𝗋 𝗰𝗼m𝗆𝘂ո𝘪𝗍𝗒 𝗈𝘯
He sat back in his chair, staring at the screen.
He replayed Crawford’s words from the terrace the night before. He had told himself it was the alcohol — a passing flare of ego. But Crawford Love did not personally chauffeur anyone through a rainy Tuesday morning commute.
Julian’s stomach dropped. If Cole found out about this, the fallout wouldn’t be a fistfight. It would be a full-scale financial war between the Compton and Love empires.
Inside the sports car, the atmosphere was something else entirely.
Crawford drove with one hand on the wheel, his eyes on the road, his peripheral attention entirely on June. June moved through the data on her tablet and fired three sharp, technically aggressive questions about the funding structure without looking up.
Crawford answered each one without hesitation, matching her intellect point for point.
The exchange sent a current of pure adrenaline through him. The obsession was growing — uncontrolled, unstoppable, like fire finding dry wood.
He brought the car to a stop in front of the Apex Bio building and watched her gather her crutches, his eyes dark with quiet, possessive focus.
As June stepped out, Crawford’s phone began vibrating insistently in the cup holder.
Julian. The interrogation was about to begin.
Thirty minutes later, Julian stormed through the massive glass doors of the Love Group headquarters.
He ignored the front desk receptionists entirely, bypassed security, stepped into the private executive elevator, and drove his palm against the top floor button.