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Chapter 456
Chapter 456:
June pulled aside the heavy velvet curtain, expecting Sloane with a cocktail.
There were two people at the round table.
Sloane sat looking mildly apologetic and entirely too amused. Sitting directly beside her, unhurriedly flipping through a leather-bound wine list, was Easton Hahn.
He looked up. The warm ambient light caught the gold rims of his glasses. His deep, intelligent eyes locked onto June instantly, and a slow, devastatingly composed smile spread across his face.
The trap had been perfectly set.
June stood at the entrance of the semi-private alcove. A flicker of genuine surprise crossed her face, but her professional composure quickly reasserted itself.
“Good evening,” she said, offering a polite smile as she stepped into the room.
𝘞𝘩𝘢t 𝖾v𝗲𝗿𝘺𝗼ո𝖾 𝗂𝘴 𝗿𝖾𝗮𝗱і𝘯𝗀 𝘰𝗻
Easton immediately rose from his seat. His movements were fluid and impeccably graceful. He rounded the table and pulled out a chair for her — a gesture so natural it felt as though they had dined together a hundred times.
“Good evening, June,” Easton said. His voice was a low, resonant baritone that seemed to fill the intimate space. “I hope you don’t mind my uninvited presence. I’m afraid I crashed your dinner p>
Sloane waved a hand dismissively from across the table. “Easton practically hijacked my reservation. He claims he just finished some agonizingly boring corporate negotiation nearby, and since we are family, I couldn’t exactly leave him starving on the sidewalk p>
June smiled and set the heavy, ten-million-dollar lockbox carefully on the floor by her feet. “I don’t mind at all. It’s good to see you, Easton p>
Easton’s sharp eyes tracked the movement of the black security box. He recognized the biometric lock and the reinforced steel, and he understood that whatever it contained was highly valuable — but his emotional intelligence was far too refined to ask a probing question. Instead, he smoothly steered the conversation toward a recent modern art exhibit Sloane had curated.
The waiter arrived with the first course, and a genuine warmth settled over the alcove. Easton possessed a dry, sophisticated wit that balanced Sloane’s chaotic energy perfectly. For the first time all day, the heavy knot of tension in June’s stomach began to unravel.
When the main courses arrived, the waiter placed a massive, bone-in Tomahawk steak and a beautifully prepared French butter-baked lobster on the table.
June reached for her heavy silver knife and fork. She had spent the last nine hours typing aggressively and analyzing data, and the repetitive strain had left a dull, throbbing ache in her right wrist. She pressed the blade into the thick steak, but her wrist gave a sharp twinge. Her movement slowed, turning slightly awkward.
Easton noticed instantly.
He did not ask if she was all right. He did not draw any attention to her difficulty.