Chapter 282
Chapter 282:
The sheer, impossible contradiction of the moment crashed into her all at once. The man she despised to the marrow of her bones had just used his own body as a shield between her and the scalding heat. The image was so wrong and so undeniable that it left her mind completely, momentarily blank.
Chaos erupted in the narrow corridor.
The busboy was screaming on the floor. The restaurant manager sprinted from the dining room with a pale, horrified face, shouting for someone to call an ambulance. Two waiters rushed toward Cole with clean towels, desperately trying to blot the boiling liquid from his ruined coat.
“Get away from me!” Cole roared. The sound shook the walls. He shoved the waiters back with his left arm, his face a mask of agonizing fury.
𝘕e𝗐 𝗰𝘩𝗮ptеr𝘀 𝗲𝘷𝗲r𝘆 𝘄𝘦е𝗸 𝗼ո
He didn’t look at the manager. He didn’t look at the shattered porcelain. His bloodshot eyes were locked entirely on June.
His right hand shot out and clamped around her wrist like a shackle.
“Walk,” he said, his voice a low, ragged command.
He didn’t wait for a response. He turned and pulled her down the corridor, his heavy boots leaving a trail of soup and blood across the carpet.
June stumbled forward, her wrist burning under his grip. “Cole! Let go of me! You need a hospital p>
He ignored her completely. The pain radiating from his back was blurring his vision at the edges, but the adrenaline of possession kept him upright. He reached the heavy mahogany door at the end of the corridor, drove it open with his boot, and pulled her inside.
It was a massive, ultra-exclusive VIP private dining room. Five older men in expensive suits sat around a large circular table — the senior board members of the logistics company Cole was in the process of acquiring. They froze in unison, cigars halfway to their mouths, staring in stunned silence at the soaked, smoldering billionaire who had just kicked his way into the room dragging a woman behind him.
Out in the main dining room, Crawford heard the crash and the screaming. His head snapped up. He looked toward the corridor.
June was not there.
A freezing spike of panic drove straight through his chest. He threw his napkin onto the table and moved fast, crossing the dining room in long, deliberate strides. He found the mess on the floor, seized the terrified manager by the collar, and pulled him close.
“Where is the woman who was standing here?” Crawford said, his voice dropping to a quiet, murderous murmur.
The manager pointed a trembling finger at the mahogany door. “Mr. Compton — he dragged her in there p>
Crawford released the man and walked toward the door.
He didn’t knock. He raised his leg and drove his boot into the center of the door with devastating force. The lock exploded from its housing. The door flew open and slammed into the wall with a crack that silenced every sound in the room.
Crawford stepped inside. The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.