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Chapter 457
Chapter 457:
Instead, he calmly set down his own utensils, stood, and unbuttoned his custom-tailored suit jacket, draping it over the back of his chair. He slowly rolled up the crisp white cuffs of his dress shirt, exposing his strong, vascular forearms. Then he leaned across the table and, with quiet, absolute authority, reached out and pulled June’s heavy porcelain plate directly toward himself.
“Let me handle this,” he murmured. His tone left no room for argument.
June blinked, her hands hovering over the empty tablecloth. “Easton, you don’t have to do that. It’s fine p>
“We are off the clock,” Easton replied, not looking up from the plate. “Call me Easton, and let me be useful p>
June sat back and watched him work.
His hands moved with the precision of a surgeon. He used the knife to flawlessly extract the lobster meat from the shell in one perfect, unbroken piece, then sliced the Tomahawk steak into perfectly even, bite-sized portions. He noticed the caper-infused butter sauce pooled on the side and caught the almost imperceptible wrinkle of her nose. With a thoughtful pause, he decided to separate it. “Not a fan of capers?” he murmured, already using the edge of the knife to scrape them away from her meat and isolate them on the far side of the plate.
The entire process took less than two minutes. He pushed the perfectly arranged plate back in front of her.
June stared at the food. A strange, tight sensation gripped her chest.
For four years inside Compton Manor, she had been the one serving — the one anticipating Cole’s moods, cutting his fruit, managing his diet, and walking on eggshells. No one had ever simply taken her plate and cared for her with such quiet, demanding tenderness.
The somatic contrast was overwhelming. A sudden, unexpected warmth bloomed in the center of her chest, gently pushing away the lingering coldness of her marriage.
𝗡o𝘷е𝘭𝘴 𝗶𝗻 𝘵𝗿𝘦𝗇𝘥 𝗼n ѕ.𝗰𝗼m
Across the table, Sloane watched the exchange with raised eyebrows. She took a slow sip of her wine, silently acknowledging her cousin’s incredibly smooth, calculated maneuvering.
June picked up her fork and took a bite of the lobster. She looked up at Easton, her eyes softening. “Thank you, Easton p>
Easton reached for his crystal wine glass. The ambient light caught the dark, predatory satisfaction swirling in the depths of his eyes.
“It is entirely my privilege,” he said softly. He tapped his glass lightly against her water goblet.
Their eyes met over the rims of their glasses. The air between them suddenly felt thick — charged with a subtle, undeniable tension that had nothing to do with legal strategy.
At that exact moment, Sloane’s cell phone rang.
She glanced at the screen, and genuine frustration flashed across her face. She shot up from her chair. “Damn it, it’s the gallery — an emergency with the climate control. I have to run. June, I’m so sorry, we’ll do this again soon. Easton, you’re paying p>