Chapter 295
Chapter 295:
She had been staring at scrolling lines of chemical data for six straight hours. Her neck ached and her eyes burned, but she could not stop. The FBI had sent over the latest shipping manifests from the Providence port, and she was cross-referencing the batch numbers of the counterfeit drugs.
A soft knock on the heavy glass door broke her concentration.
“Come in,” June said, not taking her eyes off the screen.
The door opened. June expected to see one of the tactical analysts. Instead, the rich, overwhelming scent of roasted black truffles and melted butter flooded the sterile air of the office.
She looked up.
Crawford walked into the room. Behind him came a man in the pristine white uniform of a Michelin-starred executive chef, pushing a silver cart loaded with covered porcelain dishes. Crawford gestured toward the small glass conference table in the corner. The chef transferred the plates quickly and silently, bowed, and left, pulling the door shut behind him.
Crawford stood near the table. He had removed his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, exposing his thick forearms. The lethal, aggressive energy he had carried at the luncheon was completely gone.
𝗣o𝗉𝘂la𝘳 s𝘁оr𝘪e𝘴 o𝗻
“I came to apologize,” Crawford said. His voice was low, smooth, and entirely sincere.
June blinked. She closed her laptop.
“I allowed my personal disgust for Cole Compton to dictate my actions in a professional setting today,” Crawford continued, holding her gaze. “I used you as a weapon in a boardroom. That was entirely inappropriate, and I am sorry p>
June looked at him. She knew exactly what he had done, and she knew exactly why. He had burned a bridge to protect her dignity.
“I heard what you said to him,” June replied, her voice calm. “You defended me. Thank you p>
The tension in Crawford’s shoulders vanished immediately. He let out a slow breath — he had been quietly terrified she would see his actions as possessive overreach.
June stood. Her stomach let out a soft, embarrassing rumble. She glanced at the silver cart.
“Since the food is already here,” June said, a faint, genuine smile touching her lips for the first time in days, “would you care to join me, Mr. Love p>
It was the first time she had ever invited him into her space outside of strict operational necessity.
A flash of pure, unmistakable warmth lit Crawford’s dark eyes.
“It would be my honor,” he said.
He pulled out a chair for her. They settled by the floor-to-ceiling window, and outside, the Boston skyline was deepening into a bruised, vivid purple as the sun went down.
For thirty minutes, the war with Cole, the counterfeit drugs, and the impending divorce ceased to exist. They ate the extraordinary food and talked about the architecture of the city. June found herself noticing, gradually and with some surprise, that beneath the terrifying billionaire exterior, Crawford was deeply observant and profoundly respectful of her mind.
She felt her muscles finally begin to relax. The heavy, suffocating weight she always carried in Cole’s presence was entirely absent here.
Crawford watched the soft evening light catch the curve of her cheek. His chest tightened with a quiet, profound affection. He wanted to freeze this exact moment in time.